Surprise

Harry finally slides off of me, and falls back onto the bed. We stay silent for a moment, our heavy breathing filling the air. 

“How did you find out?" I ask, my voice softly ringing out.  

“It was just a lot of coincidence that started to add up,” he sniffled. “Every time I saw Spider-Man, Peter was nowhere to be found, and vice versa.” 

“Makes sense," I said. We were laying in the dark, the television light barely illuminating the room. 

“You were so beat up that day, right after a reported fight too, and witness reports showed that you somehow had all the wounds as Spider-Man,” I bring my hand to my stomach. I removed the stitches already, and the wound has healed without leaving a scar.  

“How the hell did this even happen,” he said, his voice breathy.  

“I got bitten by a spider,” I said, nonchalantly.  

“What the fuck,” he said, his voice sounded genuinely shocked, and slightly scared.  

“It was radioactive ,” I added. This must sound crazy. If he didn’t have proof Spider-Man was real, he probably would have institutionalized me. None of this makes sense, none of this should be possible.  

“You saved me before,” his voice rang out.  

“Well of course,” I smiled. “Dr. Conners wanted some of your dad's files. He's a dick who put you in the crossfire,” I know he has a lot of questions, but I can't handle the deep ones.  

Maybe one day I’ll be able to express how Spider-Man is keeping me alive, but also eating me up from the inside. How I want to go back to Peter desperately, but I still cling to the suit? I've put everyone I love in danger, but it's all okay as long as I save them in time. The God complex I've developed as well as the severe ego death? I'm just not ready to answer. Nausea begins to creep up, my heart pounding from my overthinking. I have to keep talking to keep the dizziness at bay.  

“The lizard brain made him dumb. He was pretty easy to beat.” 

“Thank you," he said quietly. “I really appreciate you. We all appreciate you,” I smiled at him and placed my hand on his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.  

“You don't have to thank me. It's my job."  We lay quietly for a moment, both of us collecting the many thoughts racing through our brains. 

“That last fight was scary," he said. The parts I saw on Twitter at least.” 

“Eh, the dude is a quack. I'm not scared of him."  That's a lie.  

“I'm scared of him,” Harry muttered. “What does he want? What does he want from you.” 

“I don't know."  I wish I did. I can't stop obsessing over our fight. What did he whisper in my ear? Why hasn't he come back? What's he planning next?  

“I wish I could tell you to stop, and throw the suit away,” he sighed loudly. “I know you won't. So please be safe. I can't lose you.” 

“I'll be safe. No matter how many times I get hit. I always get back up,” he pushed my shoulder playfully.  

“Seriously,” his voice was serious.  

“I know,” I say lightly.  

“I have a lot more questions, but I’ll save them for later. I'm getting a headache,” he brought an arm to his face and hung it over his eyes. While laying in the silence, Harry's questions popped into my head.  

“Hey I've got a question.” He sits up slightly, and turns to me, propping his head up with his hand. The televisions screensaver turned into a slideshow of nature, providing more light into the room. Harry was easier to see, his eyes puffy, and his lips red from his anxious bites.  

“What,” he replied, continuing to bite on his bottom lip.  

“Last Night, you said ‘Peter are you awake? I have something I want to tell you’ but I fell asleep before I could answer."  His face turned red, and he grabbed a pillow and smashed it into my face. 

“I don't remember," he said guiltily while raising the pillow.  

“You seem like you remember,” I teased, grabbing the pillow out of his hands and stuffing it under my head.  

“I don't,” he sat completely up on the bed, sitting where I could only see his back. He's got wide shoulders.  

“Let's play Mario kart,” he stood up quickly, turned the light on, and connected his switch to the tv. He threw a blue remote at me, but continued to avoid my gaze. He sat on the edge of the bed once again, and started to set up the game. I sat up and scooted next to him, gripping my controller. I glance at him. He's still biting his lip. I didn’t think we’d play video games. I’m shocked he didn’t force any answers out of me. I mean, I want to force him to talk about his dad, but I don’t want him to know I was watching him. I guess we are going to pretend the last hour never happened, for the moment at least.  

The familiar tune of Mario kart begins to play. It’s like covering a bullet wound with a bandaid. 

Harry chooses Princess Peach as his character, and I choose Toad. We silently set our karts up, and begin the race. I use all the tricks I know, but Harry still wins. He then wins the next four rounds. His mood seems to lighten up as the playing goes on, the tense air lifting.  

“Are you going to ask Gwen to the winter formal?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the tv.

“Why would I do that?” That question seems so weird to ask right now.  

“Don't you like her?" he asked.

“No," I said, my voice almost sounding defensive. “I don't think I have the time to be dating right now anyway.” 

“Right," he said quietly, he must have felt the annoyance I was putting out. “I'm sorry.”  

“I'm just going to go to the dance with you anyway."  That was weird, I wish I could dig into his brain and figure out what he's thinking. Silence fell on the room again. 

 He must be so overwhelmed with everything going on. This has been such a chaotic day for him. No wonder he's acting weird. I'll force him to go to bed, he's probably exhausted from his walk anyway. He demolishes me in another round of the game. 

“We should go to bed soon," I say softly. He keeps his eyes forward toward the screen.  

“Yeah, okay.” He turns the console off, before our game is finished. Without facing me at all he turns the lights off and makes his way past me and lays on the bed. I slowly lay next to him on the bed. He's laying with his back to me, on top of the comforter, taking short quick breaths.  

“Are you okay?" I question. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles back. “Night."  His words were thick, and quiet. 

“While your dads gone, do you want to stay at my house?"  

“It’s okay. I don’t want to be a burden,” he quietly replies.  

“You're not a burden.” I place my hand on his back, hoping he would turn around and face me, yet he stays turned “May would really love seeing you."  He stays quiet, but I know he’s still awake from his frantic breathing.  

We lay in silence, for a long time. My muscles are worn out from the swinging, sinking me into his mattress. His breathing started to calm down, and he turned to lay on his back. The room was too dark to truly see him, but I could tell his eyes were open. 

“A penny for your thoughts,” my sleek voice creaked out.  

“I'm scared,” he whispered.  

“What are you scared of?" I pull myself closer so I could hear him better, our shoulders touching now. 

“You dying,” he sighed. “I’m so scared that you'll die. I can't be on this earth without you.”  

“I won't die,” I reassured.