Chapter 9
The rooftops of Brooklyn were still warm from the heat of the day, glowing amber in the dying light. Ghost-Spider perched on the edge of a billboard, her knees tucked to her chest, mask off, hoodie pulled up. She barely registered the passing time, watching the cars and people below like they belonged to another world—one she wasn’t part of anymore.
She heard him before she saw him. That familiar thwip followed by the light sound of sneakers landing just behind her. Spider-Man. He didn’t say anything. Just took his usual place beside her—upside down, hanging from a webline, swaying softly in the breeze. Together, they watched the city breathe.
“I like it best at this hour,” he said quietly, voice slightly distorted by his mask. “It’s like… the whole world’s holding its breath.”
Ghost-Spider glanced at him, then back at the streetlights flickering on one by one.
“I feel lonely,” she blurted. Her voice was quiet. Small.
He didn’t laugh, didn’t dismiss it. Just let the silence stretch before answering.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s kinda part of the gig.”
She waited, hoping for more. Anything that made the ache in her chest feel less like it was going to split her open.
“But I think what helps,” Spider-Man continued, “is remembering who you’re doing it for. The city, sure. But also… the people that make it worth it.”
Ghost-Spider looked at him.
“For me, it’s this girl,” he added with a soft chuckle. “She’s kind of ridiculous. Smart as hell. She snorts when she laughs and wears combat boots with skirts. Always fights for what’s right—even when it sucks.”
Gwen’s stomach twisted. Her throat tightened. He was talking about her. About Gwen Stacy. And she was right here—except she wasn’t. She was lying to him every single day, watching him pour his heart out while she hid behind a mask.
“She’s like my moon,” he said. “I don’t know if she knows that. But she keeps me grounded. Lit up. Even when she’s not around.”
Gwen looked away sharply, blinking back tears.
He couldn’t see her face. Thank god.
“I think if I lost her,” he said quietly, “I’d break in half.”
The words hit her like a punch. Her breathing grew shallow, her hands trembling inside her gloves. The air felt too thick to breathe in.
She was lying to him. Every patrol. Every rooftop. Every conversation.
She was there, in front of him, and still he didn’t know.
And the worst part?
If he ever found out, he’d probably hate her for it.
“I gotta go,” she said suddenly, standing.
“Ghosty?” Spider-Man asked, confused.
“I—Sorry. Just remembered something,” she lied, already backing away.
“Right. Uh… later, then.”
She turned and ran, not even bothering to web-swing away. She needed to be anywhere but there.
Behind her, the moon rose high in the night sky.
And it never felt more lonely.
The message Gwen sent had been short. Just one line: “Can we meet?”
Miles didn’t hesitate. He told her to meet him at one of his favorite rooftop spots—a quiet place nestled between two brownstones, string lights tangled through old pipes, with a cracked record player that sometimes worked if you hit it just right. It was private, beautiful in a rundown Brooklyn way. Romantic, even. He figured if something was bothering Gwen, this would be the place to talk it out.
When Gwen arrived, Miles was already waiting. He smiled, soft and a little unsure, dressed in his favorite jacket and hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets.
“You look nice,” he said, stepping closer.
“Thanks,” Gwen replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She had tried to hide the puffiness around her eyes with makeup, but it only made her look more tired.
Miles reached over and took her hand. “I was worried, you’ve been acting… different.”
Gwen didn’t reply. She looked down at their intertwined hands like they weren’t hers. She felt like she was floating—like her body was just a shell and her heart had stayed behind on that rooftop with Spider-Man.
Miles led her to the edge of the building where an old mattress and a few throw blankets had been set up. They sat. Gwen didn’t speak. She couldn’t.
“I’ve missed you,” Miles said gently. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I—”
He paused, then leaned in and kissed her.
It was soft. Hesitant. Tender.
But it felt like lightning had struck her.
Not the good kind.
Gwen pulled back sharply, tears already in her eyes. She didn’t know when they had started falling.
Miles blinked, startled. “Gwen?”
She covered her face with both hands, shoulders trembling as she started to cry—really cry. Her sobs were quiet but aching, raw and sharp like glass under her skin.
Miles was beside her instantly. “What’s wrong? Did I—did I do something?”
“No,” Gwen choked out between sobs. “No, you didn’t. You’re perfect.”
“Then—what is it? Gwen, talk to me.”
She shook her head, trying to speak but unable to find the words. Everything she wanted to say felt like a betrayal.
“I can’t—Miles, I can’t do this anymore,” she finally forced out, voice cracking. “We have to break up.”
The words stunned him. He froze.
“What? Why?”
“Because you deserve someone better. Someone who’s… honest. Someone who doesn’t lie to you every single day.”
Miles stared at her. “Where is this coming from? What are you talking about?”
“I’m just—” She hiccuped a breath, wiping at her face. “I’m just not who you think I am.”
Miles shook his head. “That’s not true.”
Gwen stood, backing away like she was afraid she’d take it back if she stayed too long.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Then she turned and ran—again—leaving Miles behind under the soft glow of the string lights, heart breaking quietly as the record player began to hum a dusty old love song that neither of them could hear.
Miles felt like he hadn’t slept in days.
His body was moving, technically—he was going to school, showing up to classes, pretending to eat lunch—but everything felt like it was on autopilot. His limbs were heavy. His mind couldn’t focus. Everything had become a dull blur.
It had been two days since Gwen broke up with him, and he hadn’t stopped replaying her words in his head.
“You deserve someone better.”
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“I’m sorry.”
The ache was constant. A gnawing pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He kept checking his phone, over and over, but there were no new messages. No explanation. No follow-up. Just silence.
In chemistry class, he stared at the whiteboard without really seeing it. Mr. Dell was going on about Pauline's laws and other rules, but it all bounced off Miles like static. Useless noise.
Beside him, Ganke was scribbling notes, but he kept glancing over with increasing concern. Finally, during a lull in the lesson, he leaned in and whispered, “Bro… are you okay?”
Miles blinked like he was waking up from a dream.
“Huh?”
“You look like a ghost,” Ganke said, his voice low but laced with worry. “Like, you’re not here. What’s going on?”
Miles shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
Ganke raised an eyebrow. “You’re always tired. This is different.”
Miles didn’t answer. He just looked back at the board and tried not to let the tears burn the corners of his eyes again.
Later that afternoon, Spider-Man messed up two simple web swings and landed face-first into the side of a building.
It wasn’t a hard hit. He was used to getting smacked around. But today? It knocked the wind out of him.
He stayed there for a second, body plastered awkwardly against the bricks, forehead resting on the concrete. He didn’t even care.
The city kept moving below. Traffic honked. People shouted. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. But Miles just clung to the side of the building like he was too tired to keep going.
When he finally peeled himself away, he half-heartedly dealt with a purse snatcher and forgot to even web the guy up properly. The dude got away.
He didn’t chase him.
He didn’t care.
He just swung back home, landed on his fire escape, and climbed inside his bedroom window like a ghost.
Rio Morales noticed the moment he walked in.
She was sitting on the couch, reading, but her eyes followed him. He didn’t even greet her—just trudged to the kitchen, grabbed a slice of pizza, and collapsed onto the couch like gravity had doubled.
“Mijo,” she said softly.
He grunted in response.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She studied him for a second. Then she said, “Is it about Gwen?”
That broke him a little more. His lips pressed tight, and he gave her a single nod.
Rio didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she moved closer, pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“I’m here when you’re ready,” she whispered.
Miles didn’t say anything. He just sat in silence, pizza forgotten in his hand, staring out the window into the darkness.
Gwen didn’t even know how she ended up on the rooftop.
One minute she was curled up under her covers, her pillow damp with tears, and the next, she was web-slinging aimlessly through the night. The air was cool and brushed against her skin like a sigh. Brooklyn’s lights blinked beneath her like stars turned upside down. Everything was too loud, too fast, too overwhelming.
And then she saw him.
Spider-Man.
He was perched on the edge of a water tower, elbows resting on his knees, his mask tilted down toward the streets below. His silhouette looked tired. Heavy. Like the world was resting on his shoulders and no one else even noticed.
Gwen didn’t hesitate. She landed a few feet away and crouched, her knees tucked to her chest.
Neither of them said anything for a long time.
The city kept breathing beneath them. Sirens in the distance. A soft hum of life. Somewhere, someone laughed.
She didn’t know how to break the silence, but eventually, it broke on its own.
“Rough week?” he asked.
Gwen let out a soft laugh that was more like a breath. “Something like that.”
“Same.”
She turned her head slightly to look at him. Even through the mask, she could tell his shoulders were tense. Like he was holding something in. Something big.
“Everything’s just…” Gwen started, but the words got stuck. She sighed. “I feel like I’m breaking everything I touch.”
Spider-Man tilted his head. “You’re not.”
“I broke my grades. My health. My friendship. I broke… someone I care about.”
He was quiet, and she wondered if he was thinking about Gwen. Real Gwen. The one he didn’t know was sitting beside him.
“I get it,” he said after a long pause. “Sometimes it feels like the mask is the only thing holding the pieces together.”
Gwen nodded. She hugged her knees tighter. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Badly,” he admitted, a hint of humor in his voice. “But sometimes, you get lucky. You stop a mugging. You make a kid smile. You sit on a rooftop with someone who actually gets it.”
That last part made her heart ache.
She didn’t deserve this.
But she wanted to hold onto it just a little longer.
“Do you ever wish you could just… tell someone?” she asked. “Take off the mask and say, ‘This is who I am. Please still like me.’”
He chuckled, but it was bitter. “Every day.”
Gwen smiled sadly behind her mask. “Yeah. Same.”
They fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It was quiet. Peaceful. They sat side by side, two strangers who weren’t really strangers, sharing a heartbreak neither of them could name out loud.
Eventually, Spider-Man stood. “We should get going. There’s probably a cat stuck in a tree somewhere.”
“Bet you I get there first,” Gwen said, standing too.
“Bet you don’t.”
They leapt off the building at the same time.
She felt a little lighter.
Just for now.