kiara

⟢ ┊ violet sneaking over while clem studies

violet is incapable of respecting study time. clem will be sitting at her desk, highlighters out, locked in, when there’s a soft tap tap on the window. she knows better than to look. she does anyway. violet’s out there with the most criminal puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, mouthing “please?” like her life depends on it. clem hisses “vi!!” through the glass, but opens the window anyway. violet immediately eats absolute shit trying to climb in. there’s a loud thump. a very unconvincing “i’m okay.” clem’s parents call out asking what that noise was and clem just panics and yells “uh—book fell.” violet is on the floor trying not to laugh, clem is red to the tips of her ears, studying absolutely abandoned.

⟢ ┊ converse + notes

clem writes on violet’s converse when violet’s not looking. dumb, corny stuff like: “clems been here”, “love you cutie”, smiley faces and hearts drawn all over. violet doesn’t wash them. ever… she wouldn’t dare. clem also writes her little notes— folded a million times, tucked into pockets, slipped into notebooks. violet keeps all of them in a shoebox under her bed like they’re priceless artifacts.

⟢ ┊ violet begging clem to stay over

violet is relentless. clem’s packing up her bag like “i should head home,” and violet immediately wraps herself around her from behind, chin on clem’s shoulder. kisses her cheek once. then again. arms tighten. “please stay,” she mumbles. clem tries to protest but her voice gets quieter every sentence. “vi, i really— i should—” violet is already half asleep, warm and heavy, murmuring “just tonight.” clem sighs, gives in, and they end up tangled together under the blankets. violet sleeps instantly. clem pretends she’s annoyed while absolutely not moving for the rest of the night.

⟢ ┊ the widgetable pet

they have a stupid little digital pet that they take way too seriously. they alternate days. clem treats it like an actual child. sets reminders. texts violet like “did you feed it.” “its happiness is low.” “VIOLET!!” violet thinks it’s funny until clem threatens to revoke her pet privileges. they celebrate its birthdays. mourn when it dies. immediately start over.

⟢ ┊ the fair + violet vs heights

violet swears she’s fine with rides. totally fine. loves them, actually. she says this while clinging to clem’s arm like a lifeline. clem doesn’t buy it for a second but lets it happen anyway. once they’re strapped into the ride and it starts going up? violet is screaming. like on top of her lungs, puberty scream. clem is half laughing, half trying to calm her down, holding violet’s hand while violet yells, “I’M GONNA THROW UP—CLEM—CLEMENTINE—”. after the ride, violet acts like it was nothing—completely brushing it off, mumbling how she just wanted to see clementine laugh. her shaky knees betray her.

⟢ ┊ clem getting jealous over minerva

clementine hates that she gets jealous. minerva talks to violet and clem suddenly goes quiet, arms crossed, jaw tight. violet notices immediately. clem tries to play it cool and fails miserably. gives short answers. avoids eye contact. violet figures it out and is secretly a little sheepish about it. later she wraps her arms around clem, murmuring reassurances, kissing her temple, telling her she’s the only one. clem relaxes instantly. pretends she wasn’t jealous. absolutely was.

⟢ ┊ their shared playlist

they have a shared playlist that’s way too long. constantly adding songs, texting each other “THIS IS SO US” “this reminds me of you :)” or “u fr” violet adds angsty stuff at 2am. clem adds softer songs with sweeter lyrics. they listen to it together with one earbud each, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. if one of them adds a song, the other immediately texts “listening rn.”

⟢ ┊ karaoke nights

they have absolutely done karaoke together. violet acts like she doesn’t care, picks joke songs, but secretly practices beforehand. clem pretends she doesn’t want to sing and then absolutely eats when she does. they do duets. mess up lyrics. laugh halfway through songs. violet points the mic at clem dramatically during the chorus like she’s introducing a rockstar. clem’s cheeks are flushed the entire time. they rewatch the videos later and cringe together.

⟢ ┊ clem cutting violet’s hair

The days blurred together.

Clementine couldn’t keep track of them anymore. The light through the cracked shutters bled the same way, morning to night. She hadn’t left this bed since the night it happened—not really. AJ tried to coax her, begged her to eat, to sit by the fire, to let him read to her. She gave him small smiles, said a few words. But when he left, she sank back into the sheets, hollow again.

She didn’t leave the bed much. Couldn’t, really. The stump where her leg had been was bound in clean wraps, but it still burned sometimes, a cruel reminder that she was alive because AJ hadn’t listened.

He’d gone against her word. He’d done the one thing she told him not to. And now here she was, surviving when she shouldn’t have.

Her leg was gone. The ache was constant, pain stabbing at nerves that weren’t there. But it wasn’t the leg that kept her here—it was everything else. The weight pressing against her ribs, the screaming thought that looped endlessly:

Why me and not Lee?

Lee had been braver. Stronger. He’d cut his own arm off trying to live, trying to buy her more time. And still, the world swallowed him whole.

But she—she’d been ready. She told AJ what to do, begged him to be a good boy. And he hadn’t. He’d saved her. And now she was alive.

Alive when Lee wasn’t.

Clementine laid on her side, staring at the other bed across from her. The sheets that AJ use to sleep in were smooth, untouched. Sometimes she imagined Lee sitting there, his deep voice giving her words of comfort like he always did. Other times she imagined him laying, rotting like that day, his eyes closed, face pale, his arms outstretched.

Why couldn’t she have gone with him? Why had the world decided she got to live?

Her chest clenched. She dug her nails into her palm until it hurt. No tears came—she’d run dry days ago. All that was left was the ache, and the thought: Useless. Broken. Dead weight.

The thought cut her open. Her throat tightened, her chest hollowing out until she thought she might collapse in on herself. If she hadn’t been so stupid—if she hadn’t run off after a stranger, if she hadn’t been kidnapped—he wouldn’t have gone after her. He wouldn’t have been bitten. He wouldn’t have had to die in that goddamn store, chained to the end of his rope because of her.

Her.

Why did fate choose her? Why couldn’t she have just died?

⸻

A knock broke the silence. Soft, tentative.

“…Clem?” Violet’s voice, muffled through the door. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

Clementine wanted to say no. She wanted to stay buried in this cocoon of rot and silence. But the word stuck in her throat, and what came out instead was a hoarse:

“…Sure.”

The door creaked open. Light spilled across the room, and Violet stepped inside, her boots slow on the floorboards. She stopped when she saw Clem—blank-eyed, hair messy, staring at the empty bed like it had the answers she couldn’t find.

“Hi,” Violet said, softly.

Clementine didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. Just hummed, barely audible.

Violet’s heart ached. She sat down on the bed next to Clem, close enough their knees could’ve touched if Clem wasn’t tucked under the blanket. For a long while, neither spoke. Violet just watched her, guilt eating at her ribs.

“Vi…” Clem’s voice cracked, dragging her from the spiral. Her eyes were glassy, distant. “…Why am I alive, Vi?”

For a moment, Violet just looked at her. The girl who had once seemed unbreakable, now crumbling from the inside. Violet’s throat tightened. The guilt she’d been carrying pressed harder against her ribs. If she hadn’t jumped that fence, if she’d stayed closer, maybe she could’ve pulled Clem free. Maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here, broken and half-gone.

Her hand trembled as she reached out, gently laying it over Clementine’s. She rubbed her thumb across her knuckles, soft and steady.

Clementine didn’t pull away. But she didn’t look at her either.

Silence stretched until Clem’s voice cracked it, hoarse and small “Why am I alive? Why me and not him?” She repeated.

Violet blinked again, stunned by the rawness of it.

Clem’s eyes finally shifted, watery and hollow. “Why did I live, when Lee didn’t? He tried the same thing. He fought so hard, and still… he died. And I…” Her breath hitched, chest tightening. “…I was ready. I was ready to go. AJ should’ve listened. He should’ve let me.”

Violet stayed still, her gaze fixed on her, heart clutched.

“He—he was everything,” Clementine whispered. “He kept me safe. No matter what happened. I got kidnapped once—stupid, careless—and he came after me. He fought for me. He got bit because of me.” Her voice shook, breaking. “If it wasn’t for me, he’d still be alive. If he never came across half of Georgia looking for me. If he never ran into me in that treehouse at all…”

Her chest heaved. Words spilled faster now, like floodgates breaking.

“Lee should’ve lived. Not me. If he hadn’t come looking for me, if he hadn’t found me in that treehouse at all, maybe he’d still… maybe he’d still be out there. Living. Breathing. Someone better. Stronger. I shouldn’t—” Her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have been the one he saved.”

Her words forming into silence.

Violet’s throat burned. She squeezed Clementine’s hand tighter, thumb still brushing over her knuckles. She wanted to say something, anything, but the lump in her throat strangled her.

Clementine stared, but didn’t pull away. Violet finally spoke up.

“D-don’t say that about yourself. You’re not useless, Clem,” Violet murmured. “I know you feel like you are. But you’re not. You’ve carried everyone on your back for so long—no wonder you can’t move right now. You don’t have to. Not with me here. Not with AJ.”

And with that, Violet broke. The guilt she’d buried spilled out. “If I’d stayed with you—if I hadn’t jumped that fence—I could’ve been there. Maybe you wouldn’t have been bitten. Maybe I could’ve helped. Every day I think about it. Every fucking day. And it kills me that you’re hurting because I wasn’t there.”

Her hands shook as she leaned forward, pulling Clementine into a tight hug. She clung to her like she was afraid she’d slip away.

Clementine stiffened at first, startled by the sudden closeness. And then she felt it—the hot dampness of Violet’s tears against her skin.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Violet choked out, voice raw. “Even if you don’t believe it. Even if you hate it. I’m glad you’re here. I don’t care how broken you feel, or how useless you think you are—you’re still you. And you’ll always matter to me. Always.”

Something cracked inside Clementine.

For the first time in days, a tear slipped free. It rolled down her cheek, hot and fragile, and landed against Violet’s skin.

Violet stilled, surprised, pulling back just enough to see. Her breath caught at the sight.

And then Clementine moved, weak but desperate, hugging her back.

The two of them clung to each other, trembling, their tears mixing as they held on like the world outside didn’t matter.

The world was broken. Cruel. Lee was gone. Clementine would never stop feeling the weight of it. But here, in this small room, with Violet’s arms around her and her own arms holding on just as tight—

She wasn’t completely gone.

Abby was quiet—too quiet.

She sat on the edge of the lunch table, elbows resting on her knees, eyes unfocused as she stared down at a scuffed spot on the floor. Nora noticed first, of course. She always did. With a sly nudge of her shoulder and a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, she leaned in toward Abby.

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Nora teased, voice just loud enough to cut through the casual chatter of the cafeteria.

Abby blinked, lips parting like she might deny it, but then Alice laughed—bright and knowing—before taking a sip of her drink. “Trouble in paradise?”

Manny cocked an eyebrow, ever the instigator. “Come on, what’s the deal between you and Y/N, huh? You two have been glued at the hip since forever. And now?”

Abby’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she quickly busied herself by adjusting the strap of her bag, trying to look indifferent. “She’s just… different lately,” she muttered. “I don’t know. She’s pulling away. Like she’s hiding something.”

Nora’s teasing faded, replaced by a small frown. “Maybe she’s just finding herself, Abs. People change. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.”

Abby nodded, but the heaviness in her chest didn’t lift. She didn’t like it—this feeling of losing grip on someone who’d always been a constant. You had always been her safe place, her person. And now it was like you were floating out of reach, one step away from slipping through her fingers entirely.

Alice, ever the chaos-bringer, pulled out her phone and showed a ridiculous cat video—everyone erupted into laughter, even Abby managing a small chuckle. For a moment, it felt good again.

—

“Abby!”

Your voice sliced through the air like a whip, frantic and breathless.

Abby looked up just in time to see you sprinting toward her, eyes wide, face pale. Your hand wrapped around her wrist with such urgency that her heart stumbled.

“Come with me. Now. Please, Abby.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

“What? What’s going on?” she asked, already standing, already following as you tugged her through the crowd. Behind her, she heard Manny call out—“Yo, where you going?”—but you didn’t look back, and neither did Abby.

Your grip was firm, trembling slightly. Something was wrong.

You didn’t stop to explain. The halls buzzed with a strange tension—murmurs, the squeak of sneakers, a static buzz that clung to the air like pre-storm electricity.

And then everything exploded.

A deafening crash shook the ground beneath them as a section of the wall ahead blew inward. Screams echoed. Dust and rubble clouded the hall. A towering figure—a villain Abby had never seen before—emerged through the smoke, laughing with guttural menace, eyes sweeping the crowd.

Abby turned in time to see a chunk of concrete debris sailing toward her. And then—

“Abby, down!”

You shoved her hard, your body slamming into hers as you both hit the floor. The debris struck you instead, a sickening thud and a yelp of pain leaving your throat. You gritted your teeth, groaning as you held your side, blood already starting to stain your shirt.

“Y/N—Y/N, oh my god—” Abby’s voice cracked, hands fumbling to hold you. “Are you okay? Look at me!”

“I’m fine,” you lied, voice tight, body trembling as you pushed through the pain. “Come on, we have to go—now.”

You dragged Abby to her feet, your arm looped protectively around her waist, and pulled her into the nearest classroom. You kicked the door shut behind you, locking it. The chaos of the school faded to muffled screams beyond the walls.

Abby turned to face you, chest heaving, blue eyes wild with panic.

“You’re not fine—your shirt’s soaked. You’re bleeding. What happened?” Her hands gripped your shoulders, shaking slightly. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You staggered back a step, pressing your palm to your side, trying to breathe through the throbbing ache. You shook your head, avoiding her gaze.

“I can’t—I’m okay, I just—Abby, please just stay in here. You’re safe here.”

Abby’s voice broke. “I don’t care about safe! I care about you, Y/N. Look at me!” Her hands cupped your cheeks now, trembling. “You’re scaring me. You’re always pushing me away lately and I don’t know why. I miss you—I miss us. What are you hiding?”

Your breath hitched. The weight of your secret threatened to crush you.

You swallowed hard and slowly raised your eyes to hers. You could see it all there—every ounce of care, confusion, hurt. Your hands covered hers gently, your fingers curling over hers as you leaned into her touch.

“I want to tell you everything,” you whispered. “I swear. But I can’t. Not yet.”

Abby’s eyes brimmed with emotion, tears pooling as she stared at you like you were slipping through her hands.

You took a shaky step forward, rising on your toes as your fingers brushed her jaw.

“Abby…” you breathed, and she melted beneath the sound of her name.

Your hands moved to her shoulders, then slowly up to her face. “You’re the one thing I’ve always been sure of.”

Her breath caught.

And then you kissed her.

It started slow—uncertain, full of questions. Her lips were soft, warm against yours. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t even breathe for a second. Then you felt her arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you.

You deepened the kiss slightly, cheeks burning, hearts racing. It was everything—gentle and aching, sweet and desperate. You felt her lean into you, her hands splayed across your back, fingers shaking slightly. You tasted salt—tears or sweat or both—and your heart cracked open right there in her arms.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against hers. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, gaze still dazed, lips parted.

“I’ve never…” she whispered, cheeks flushed.

“Me neither,” you whispered back. “But I’ve always wanted it to be you.”

Abby’s chest rose and fell like she couldn’t believe any of this was real.

“You’re bleeding,” she finally murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, voice fragile.

“I’ll be okay. I promise.”

You pulled her into a hug, one hand gently cradling the back of her head as she sank into your chest.

“I’m gonna need you to stay here, Abs. Just for a little while.”

She didn’t want to let go.

But she nodded.

You gave her one more kiss—shorter this time, pressed to the corner of her mouth—and whispered, “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Then you slipped out the door, the echo of your heartbeat louder than the chaos outside. You ran, ducking behind lockers, until you found your hiding place. And then, slipping on your mask and suit, Spider-Woman was back in motion.

But somewhere deep inside, you were still Y/N.

Still hers.

The city never truly slept. It murmured.

Even now, near midnight, the streets below were alive with the dull hum of traffic, flickering neon lights, and the occasional distant blare of a siren. You crouched on the edge of a rooftop, legs bent, fingers pressed to the cool concrete, listening.

You’d grown used to this life—nights spent in a suit, swinging between shadows, answering calls for help like they were second issued. It had started with the bite. The headaches. The crawling under your skin. Then the strength—the power.

Now, this was your world: red and blue stitched into fabric, fists that hit harder than they should, and a heart that beat too loud every time danger struck.

But nothing made it beat faster than her.

You felt it before you saw it—the tingling warmth at the base of your neck, the way your senses sharpened like a camera lens. Something was wrong.

You leapt from the rooftop without hesitation.

The wind rushed past your ears as you flipped through the night sky, heart thudding in your chest. You followed the tug in your ribs, the magnetic pull toward chaos. A side street. A blown-out ATM. Cracks splintered in the sidewalk like spiderwebs. People screaming.

Then you saw her.

Abby.

She was cornered between a dented mailbox and a brick wall, palms raised defensively. Her hoodie was streaked with dirt, one of her combat boots untied, and her sketchbook lay torn at her feet.

The man facing her wore a cybernetic gauntlet that sparked with unstable energy, the red glow dancing across his arm like fire. He shouted something about betrayal, about Brooklyn’s lies—but all you heard was Abby’s breathing, fast and shallow.

Your heart stopped.

Then you dropped.

Your feet hit the pavement with a crack, the force rippling outward as you landed in a low crouch—classic superhero landing, one knee bent, hand splayed on the asphalt. The man stumbled back in surprise.

Abby gasped.

You rose slowly, breath even. “Cmon big guy.”

The villain snarled and raised his arm—but he was too slow. You flipped forward, springing from the ground in one clean arc. Your heel slammed into his shoulder, sending him spinning into the alley wall with a grunt.

Another blast shot from his gauntlet, but you ducked low, slid beneath it, and fired a web to pin his arm to the wall.

“Not tonight,” you muttered, vaulting upward and landing a solid punch across his jaw. He slumped, groaning.

You exhaled.

Then turned.

Abby hadn’t moved. She was still frozen, her wide blue eyes locked on you like you were something pulled from a dream.

Your pulse stuttered.

You took a slow step toward her, body still buzzing from the fight. She stared—not at your mask, but at you. The full shape of you. The curve of your arms, the rise of your chest under the suit, the muscles in your thighs tense from motion.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, voice distorted slightly through the mask.

She nodded, lips parted. “Y-Yeah. I think so.”

You bent down, picking up her sketchbook. The cover was scuffed, a few pages bent, but it was mostly intact. You held it out to her.

Her fingers brushed yours.

The contact burned through the gloves like wildfire.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

You tilted your head. “Stay safe. Don’t walk home alone if you can help it.”

She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something—ask a question, maybe—but you turned away before she could.

Your web snapped upward.

With one last glance at her stunned face, you swung into the night.

But not before you heard her say, under her breath, “She’s… beautiful.”

—

You barely made it home before your phone buzzed.

Abby [10:58 PM]: DUDE

Abby [10:59 PM]: I just got saved by SPIDER-WOMAN

Abby [10:59 PM]: THE Spider-Woman

Abby [11:00 PM]: red and blue suit. toned as hell. literal superhero landing.

Abby [11:01 PM]: I think I blacked out for a second. she’s so hot I forgot how to speak.

You stared at the screen, flushed and dazed, your mask peeled halfway off and still clutched in one hand.

Abby [11:02 PM]: she picked up my sketchbook

Abby [11:02 PM]: and said “stay safe”

Abby [11:02 PM]: she TOUCHED my shoulder

Abby [11:03 PM]: I’m in love.

You choked on air.

—

The next day at school was surreal.

Abby wouldn’t stop talking about Spider-Woman.

“She was just… so calm,” she gushed at your locker, hugging her sketchbook to her chest like it was holy scripture. “Like, she handled everything like it was no big deal. And her voice? Kind of low? A little husky. Very hot.”

You fumbled with your books. “I mean, yeah, she sounds cool.”

Abby arched a brow. “Cool? She’s a walking statue of Greek perfection. She has, like, thigh muscles. Real ones. Her arms could carry me like a sack of flour and I would thank her.”

You coughed.

“She even made sure I was okay afterward. Like, looked me right in the eyes and handed me my sketchbook like a total gentleman—well, gentlelady. Gentlehero?”

You gave her a tight smile. “Gentle-superhero?”

“That!” Abby lit up. “Exactly! I felt so safe. Like… totally protected.”

You looked away.

That was all you ever wanted.

All this time spent protecting her from the shadows, keeping your identity secret, not out of shame—but fear. Fear that she’d look at you differently. That the girl she trusted would become something else. That you’d lose her.

But hearing her now—her voice light and dreamy—made your heart ache in a whole new way.

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Abby said as the final bell rang. “And the way she moved. And her back muscles. Do you think it’s weird if I try to draw her from memory tonight?”

You didn’t answer.

You just nodded, cheeks burning, and walked with her out into the fading afternoon light.

—

That night, you couldn’t sleep.

You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, your limbs sore from patrol, your heart aching from restraint.

There was a time you thought keeping your secret safe meant keeping Abby safe. But lately, it felt like it was only hurting both of you.

You touched the spot on your shoulder where she’d looked at you with such quiet wonder.

You’d felt invincible in that moment.

Seen.

Wanted.

You closed your eyes, replaying the sound of her voice on a loop.

“She’s beautiful.”

You’ve known Abigail (Abby) Anderson longer than you’ve known anything else. Before you knew how to spell your name, before you knew how to ride a bike or speak properly—Abby was already there.

You were neighbors. Your parents were best friends, and by default, so were you two. There are photos of you as literal babies, chubby-cheeked and giggling in matching onesies, clutching each others tiny figures. Your earliest memory is sitting in Abby’s backyard under a big tree, splitting a popsicle while she told you about the dog book she just got. She had just turned four. You were three. And you were in awe.

That feeling never really went away.

Abby has always been… well, Abby. Tall, freckled, goofy in the sweetest way. She wore high-top sneakers with lab goggles in middle school because she thought it made her look “scientifically intimidating.” It didn’t. You wore cat-ear headbands and carried around a binder labeled “Conspiracy Theories & Other Facts.” Together, you were unstoppable.

And painfully nerdy.

You both leaned into it. Friday nights meant staying in and watching either scientific documentaries or crime, debating about wether cats or dogs make better pets, and making DIY bracelets from beads. Abby had her comic book obsessions (mostly X-Men and Doom Patrol), and you had yours (you were a Spider-Man girl through and through). You had one binder just for Peter Parker theories. Abby read through all of it without mocking you once.

But everything changed the day you got bit.

You were seventeen and on a school field trip to Oscorp. It was supposed to be boring. Corporate lobby. Tour guide in a cheap suit. Abby was next to you the whole time, nudging your arm whenever something looked remotely cool. But when the guide got distracted by Coach Davis asking about security clearances, you and Abby snuck away. You were supposed to just peek inside the genetics wing—just to say you did it.

That’s when it happened.

One second, you were gawking at a containment chamber filled with strange glowing vials. The next, a sharp sting lanced through your hand. You yelped and slapped your palm. The spider was gone. You blinked at your hand. Nothing. Abby turned, concerned.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Just… static shock, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

You wish she had.

Because that night, the fever started.

You barely remembered getting home. Everything pulsed. Your skin felt electric, your vision blurred, and when you gripped the sink, it cracked under your fingers. By morning, everything was different.

You weren’t just stronger. You were… more.

Faster. Your senses sharper. Your body humming like a live wire.

You could feel everything—the wind through your open window, the heartbeat of a bird sitting on the sill, the tiny vibrations in your fingertips when your mom walked past your door.

And when you stuck your hand to the ceiling by accident and couldn’t get it off?

Yeah. That was a whole new level of panic.

Over the next few weeks, you tested what you could—carefully. Secretly. You climbed walls, stuck to ceilings, realized you could swing from a rope tied to a tree in your backyard without even straining. You built a web-shooter out of parts from your robotics club stash. Your aim got better. Your reflexes? Insane.

You were becoming Spider-Woman. Not that you had a name for it yet.

But you didn’t tell anyone. Especially not Abby.

Because Abby? She was everything. And you couldn’t risk her safety. Not when the world suddenly became a lot more dangerous.

Still, secrets don’t stay small forever. Especially not when your best friend knows you like the back of her hand.

“Hey,” Abby said one afternoon, frowning at your arm as you sat on her bedroom floor, surrounded by open textbooks and empty soda cans. “What happened to your elbow?”

You glanced down. Bruise. Big one. You’d taken a hit stopping a mugging the night before. “Oh. Um. Bike accident?”

She blinked. “Since when do you ride a bike?”

“Since… recently.”

She gave you a look.

It happened again the following week. Then again. And again.

She caught you jumping unnaturally high to grab a book from her top shelf. “Jesus,” she muttered. “Have you been working out or something?”

You laughed nervously. “Why? Do I look… different?”

Her eyes scanned you. It made your ears burn.

“Yeah, actually,” she said slowly, tipping her head. “You’ve got, like… biceps now. And your legs are kind of jacked. You dodged that football Jesse threw like you were in The Matrix.”

“Fast reflexes?”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

She sat beside you on the couch and poked your arm. “Seriously, what’s up? You doing CrossFit behind my back?”

You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek. “Just… felt like being stronger.”

She smiled, soft and warm. “Well, you look good”

You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing because of her smile or because of how close her thigh was to yours.

Maybe both.

Later that night, lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling. Your phone buzzed beside you. It was Abby.

Abby [10:12 PM]: hey

Abby [10:12 PM]: you’re not avoiding me, right?

You swallowed.

You [10:13 PM]: never.

Abby [10:13 PM]: okay. just checking. miss u.

You buried your face in your pillow.

Because the truth was… keeping this from her hurt more than anything else.

You’d spent your whole life side by side with Abby Anderson. You knew her freckles like constellations, her eye rolls like punctuation. She was taller than you by a good few inches, always had been. Towered over you protectively like a giant dork, arms crossed, making sarcastic comments when people tried to bully you in the hall.

But now? You had secrets. Ones you couldn’t share.

And that distance—no matter how small—was starting to fray the threads between you.

But how could you tell her?

How could you look into those soft blue eyes, taller and warmer and familiar, and say: “Hey, I got bitten by a radioactive spider and now I climb buildings and stop robberies and punch bad guys with my webs. Also I’m hopelessly, pathetically in love with you.”

Yeah. No. Not yet.

So instead, you trained at night. Learned how to move through the city unseen. Built your suit by hand, piece by piece. And every time you stumbled or bruised or bled, you thought of Abby.

Thought about how she’d kill you if she knew.

And worse—how she might not forgive you if she found out.

But you weren’t ready.

Not yet.

Not until you could protect her from everything.

Ellie didn’t even want to be here.

Joining some random martial arts class for the summer when she could be at home, reading a comic? Yeah, that was not on her to-do list or really anything she was looking forward to. But Jesse and Dina had looked way too excited, and apparently they were doing this “new hobbies challenge” thing together. So no here she was— sweating her butt off, uncomfortable, and wildly underqualified—standing barefoot on a mat in a community rec center that smelled like rubber and sweat.

“Im gonna die,” she whispered.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” Dina whispered back, grinning like this was the funniest thing in the world.

Jesse clapped her on the back. “Yeah, and if you’re lucky, maybe the instructor will go easy on you.”

That’s when you walked in.

Ellie froze.

You weren’t the instructor, but you moved like one—confident, calm, focused one. You bowed to the front of the room, then turned and smiled at the group, you voice friendly and welcoming as you offered help to anyone new.

Meanwhile Ellie? Ellie forgot how to breathe!

“Oh no,” she mumbled under her breath. “Im gonna die in a new way.”

It wasn’t just that you were good. It was the way you carried yourself, how patient you were with others, the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. And when you approached her—Ellie, the human disaster, she nearly died.

“Hey! You’re new, right? Need any help with the stances?”

Ellie blinked at you, “I—I—uh, yeah, my feet are… doing something?”

Smooth. Real smooth, Ellie.

But you just laughed, kind and easy. “No worries. Here, let me show you.”

You gently adjusted her stance, explaining the form in a way that actually made sense. Ellie couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that you were standing very close and being very nice and smelling like… soap and sunshine? Was that a thing? That was probably a thing.

“Like this,” you said, demonstrating a block. “Then twist your hips, like this—no, not that much, you’re gonna throw yourself off balance.”

Ellie followed your lead with the clumsiness of a baby deer. Her arms flailed, her foot slipped, and she nearly fell on her ass—until your hand gently caught her elbow.

“Whoa, careful there!”

Ellie wanted to die.

“I swear I’m usually more coordinated than this,” she blurted. “I mean—not like, graceful, or anything—but I can, like… walk. And stuff.”

You laughed again, and Ellie swore it was the nicest sound in the universe.

“You’re doing great,” you said, smiling like you meant it. “Everyone starts somewhere.”

Ellie nodded, face burning. “Cool. Yeah. Somewhere. That’s me.”

The rest of the class passed in a blur of half-remembered movements and sneaky glances. Every time you encouraged her, or gave her a thumbs-up from across the room, Ellie felt like she was ascending into another dimension.

After class, when people were rolling up their mats and grabbing water, you approached her again.

“You coming back next week?”

Ellie swallowed, heart in her throat. “Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I, uh… I really like learning. And sweating. And… falling.”

You grinned. “Good. I’ll save you a spot next to me.”

Ellie nodded, trying not to short-circuit.

As you walked away, Jesse and Dina appeared behind her.

Dina smirked. “Well that was painful to watch.”

Jesse laughed. “I think you bowed to her twice, dude.”

it was a dark warm summer day when Abby first saw you, standing near some bumper cars at the fair. You were surrounded by your friends, your laughter floating in the air, carefree and full of life. Abby really couldn’t take her eyes off of you. It wasn’t just the way you carried yourself—confident, but somehow still relaxed. The way your eyes sparked at the lights, the way you smiled without a care, and the way you held yourself like you had everything figured out. To Abby, you were everything.

She wasn’t usually one to get all starry-eyed over someone she just met. In fact, she’d always been the one to keep her distance, the one who did the pursing. But there was something magnetic about you, something that made her heart race a little faster the longer she watched from afar.

Manny noticed her trace-like state, nudging her elbow. “Dude, your drooling all over her,” he teased, his voice light but but knowing.

Abby snapped out her “trace”, glaring at him with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. “Shut up, Manny,” she muttered, trying to keep her gaze back to the ground. “I’m not drooling.”

“Yeah okay.” Manny laughed, bumping his shoulder into hers. “Just go talk to her, man. She’s just…. y’know over there playing ring toss, looking like she’s having the time of her life.”

“I—“ Abby hesitated, unsure what to say. “I don’t even know her name.”

“Y/n,” Manny said, his tone dropping to something more serious. “Her family is loaded. They’re here for the summer or something, staying in that big mansion over by the lake. You really don’t know her?”

Abby’s brow furrowed as she turned back toward the fairgrounds. She could see you now, laughing with your friends after winning a stuffed animal. She couldn’t help the way her heart skipped. It was like the universe had thrown you into her path, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“No, I don’t know her,” Abby said, her voice low, almost to herself. “But I think I want to.”

Manny snorted, clearly entertained by his friends behavior. “I’ll give you a heads up—she doesn’t seem like your type, Abby. But if you’re serious about this, go for it.”

Abby didn’t even notice Manny walking away until he was out of earshot. She was too busy watching you as you tossed the ring onto the bottle, your eyes narrowing with focus, your lips curling into a grin as you words “you won!” Appeared at the top of the screen.

“Maybe,” Abby muttered to herself, “this summer is gonna be a lot more interesting than I thought.”

──────────୨ৎ─────────

Later that evening, after Abby had managed to work up enough courage to walk over to the bumper cars, she spotted you again on the way. You were just stepping off the ride, laughing and brushing a loose stand of hair from your face. Abby’s heart seemed to skip a beat as she stood there, frozen for a second too long. She had no idea what she was doing, but her feet moved on their own.

“Hey!” Abby called out, her voice more nervous than she’d intended, it didn’t stop her from pushing forward though. “You just got off the bunker cars, right? You, uh, having fun?”

You turned to face her, and for the briefest moment, Abby could’ve sworn the world stopped spinning. The way your eyes grazed at her face— your eyes tracing her facial features. That was enough to make Abby’s heart race. You smiled, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice light and friendly. “You were watching me? I thought I saw you earlier.” You raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not entirely thrown off by Abby’s sudden appearance.

“Uh, yeah,” Abby stammered, feeling a blush creeping up her neck. “I mean, not… not in a creepy way or anything. I just… um, saw you win the ring toss earlier. That was impressive.”

You laughed, clearly amused by her awkwardness. “It’s just a game,” you shrugged, but the smile on your face told Abby everything she needed to know. You were warm, approachable, and you had no idea what you were doing to her.

“I’m Abby,” she managed to say, trying to force some confidence into her voice. “I just—“

“Y/n,” you interrupted with a grin, offering her hand, “nice to meet you, Abby.”

She took your hand, the contact sending a shockwave through her that she wasn’t prepared for. “So, uh,” Abby started, her mind racing for something else to say. “You, uh, you come here often?”

It was a terrible line, and she knew it. She could feel herself cringing inside, but you didn’t seem to mind. You just smiled wider, shaking your head.

“Nope, just here for the summer,” you replied easily. “My family has a house nearby, so we come down to the fair whenever we can.”

Abby nodded, trying to focus. “I didn’t realize this was your thing. The fair, I mean. You seem like someone who’s into other… things.” She immediately regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but to her surprise, you laughed.

“Well, you’d be right,” you said with a smirk. “But I’m here for the summer, so why not enjoy a little nostalgia while I can?”

Abby grinned, relieved that she hadn’t totally embarrassed herself. “Well, if you’re up for it, maybe you’d let me show you around some of the other booths. I’m pretty good at the games here.”

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You think you can beat me at the ring toss?”

Ellie knew she was screwed ever since she saw you standing alongside Joel and Tess. Not in the life-or-death kind of way—not like when she was running from infected, dodging bullets, or nearly dying by a group of hunters. No, this was worse. These were feelings. And worse than that, they were feelings for you—Joel’s daughter.

Which meant she was really screwed.

She didn’t know when it started. Maybe it was the first time you stood up for her against Joel, saying she wasn’t some dumb kid who needed to be babysat. Maybe it was the way you laughed—really laughed—when she made some dumb joke. Or maybe it was just you, always you, existing in a way that made her heart do things it shouldn’t be doing.

But there was no way in hell she was telling Jesse or Dina about it. Jesse would make fun of her for life, and Dina? Dina would absolutely run straight to you with the biggest, dumbest grin on her face. So Ellie did what any completely rational person would do in her situation—she went to Tommy.

The decision was made in a panic. She hadn’t even planned it. One minute she was helping him kill stragglers out on patrol, and the next, she was blurting out, “I think I’m dying.”

Tommy had blinked at her, understandably confused. “Uh… what?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me..” Ellie mumbled, dragging her hands down her face. “I feel all… weird. It’s like where my stomach does this thing…like, like a tummy ache or some shit—whenever I see her, and my hands get all sweaty, and my mouth just stops working!”

Tommy frowned. “Who’s ‘her’?”

Ellie looked at him, looking around the area, almost seeming to want to ignore that question until she gulped. She sighed, cursing at herself, then actually telling Tommy.

“Yn..” she whispered, mostly to herself. Tommy moved his head to the side, giving Ellie that look like “speak up, I can’t hear shit” so she did just that.

“Urgh… y/n, okay? I don’t know, it’s… Complicated.”

Tommy stared at her for a long moment before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “Ohh. Ohhh.” He nodded, clearly enjoying this way too much. “You got yourself a little crush, huh?”

Ellie groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? Like the truth?” Tommy smirked, nudging her with his elbow. “Wow, Ellie. You really went and fell for good old y/n? You sure you’re not actually dying?”

Ellie let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back against a nearby tree. “Might as well be. If Joel finds out, he’s gonna kill me.”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, he won’t kill ya. Probably just glare at you real hard until you wither away.”

Ellie groaned again. “Not helping.”

“Alright, alright.” Tommy held up his hands in surrender. “Look, it’s simple—if she makes you all sweaty and dumb, you like her.”

“Wow. Thanks, Doc,” Ellie deadpanned.

“You want my advice or not, smartass?”

Ellie huffed but nodded.

“Just tell her.”

Ellie made a noise like she was physically in pain. “Are you insane? Joel would totally kill me. He’d turn me into boots, Tommy.”

Tommy shook his head with a small snort. “C’mon, Joel ain’t that bad.”

Ellie cocked her head towards him, giving Tommy a deadpan look.

“…Alright, yeah, he’s that bad,” Tommy admitted, laughing. “But I’ll tell you what—if he tries anything, I’ll take the blame. Tell him I put you up to it.”

Ellie stared at him, eyes wide with genuine horror. “You would die.”

Tommy grinned. “Eh, maybe. But it’d be funny.”

With that so-called “advice,” it led her to now. Standing outside your window like some creep, hands sweating, heart racing, trying to convince herself not to run away.

She knocked—too loud, too aggressive—before immediately panicking and knocking again, this time way too soft. She cursed herself, looking around the night of Jackson.

Maybe she still had time to run away and forget even confessing—until a few seconds passed before the curtain shifted, and then suddenly, there you were. Sleepy-eyed, confused, and unfairly pretty even in an old shirt and sweatpants.

“Ellie?” Your voice was groggy, and God, why did you have to sound cute right now? “What are you doing?”

Ellie opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

Shit. She should’ve planned this out.

“Okay, uh—so, funny story.” Ellie scratched the back of her neck, shifting on her feet. “You know how, like, sometimes you think you’re dying, but it turns out you have, like, emotions?”

You blinked. “Ellie, what—”

“I like you,” Ellie blurted, then immediately winced. “I-mean yeah, I like you. A whole lot actually. And I didn’t know what the hell was going on until Tommy—yeah, Tommy—explained it, which, by the way, super embarrassing—”

“Ellie.”

“—but then I figured I should tell you before I implode or Joel literally murders me—”

“Ellie!”

She finally shut up.

You just stared at her for a long moment, eyes scanning her face like you were trying to make sense of her rambling. Then—before she could fully process what was happening—you reached out, grabbed the collar of her hoodie, and pulled her forward, pressing your lips against hers.

Ellie froze.

Oh.

Oh.

She barely had time to react before you pulled back, searching her face with an expression she couldn’t quite place. “Does that answer your whole… thing?”

Ellie, who was still short-circuiting, managed to let out a very intelligent, “Huh?”

You laughed—soft, amused, ridiculously fond. Your cheeks matching her flushed ones, Ellie staring at you, then your lips again.

“I guess you can say I like you too?”

“I guess? What does that mean–”

“I’m kidding, I really–really like you too.”

Ellie blinked. Then blinked again.

Then—“Holy shit.”

You grinned, tugging her inside before Joel could wake up and murder her on the spot. Your hands still on her collar, pressing your lips against her cheek, a soft hitch coming out of Ellie.

You pulled back, your eyes scanning Ellie’s freckled cheeks and nose, turning a bright pink color as she placed her hand on the spot where you kissed her. Then, the stupidest—goofiest grin appeared on her face as she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. You cupped her cheeks in your hands, deepening the kiss as the nerves left Ellie’s system and melted into the kiss.

Maybe, confessing wasn’t such a bad thing after all?