melodramaticmosaic

By 5:30, you’d gathered yourself just enough to get through the doors. It was nearing the end of October and it was chilly enough that morning that you were bundled up: hoodie, coat, gloves, and a beanie all overtop your pajamas—you hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet. That decision was proving to do more harm than good as a chill cut through the thin material of your pants. You’d be lucky to make it back without freezing your legs off. 

Were you being just a tad bit dramatic? Absolutely, but the call of a warm breakfast sandwich and some hot chocolate was more than enough to get you energized.

The place you’d chosen was a bit farther than you usually walked, coffee shop storefronts and bodegas all starting to open taunted you as you walked past. Sure, these places were okay, not that you’d tried them. But the place you were headed had the best hot chocolate you’d ever tasted in your life even though you were pretty sure it was just Swiss Miss packets.

Your therapist, if you actually went back to see her, would praise you for walking as far as you were. “The exercise is good for you!” She’d say. And then, “You should take walks like that more often, you don’t leave your apartment enough.” And you’d nod, probably agreeing with her to some extent. But you had friends and you talked to your coworkers, so you were socializing at least!

The cafe was a 25-minute walk from your apartment building. That meant that you watched New York City wake up as you walked. By the time you reached the cafe, cars were already honking in the street, congested just as it passed the 6am mark. 

While it sucked sometimes, you were grateful that you didn’t have a car. Everything you needed was within a 10-minute walk from your apartment, sans the more than double excursion you were currently on. You strayed away from taking the subway. It was always too crowded and rarely anyone let you sit, not even to mention the terror that was taking your wheelchair on public transit. You couldn’t fathom doing it again. So walking, or rolling, it was. 

Somehow, even at 6 am on a Tuesday morning, the cafe had a line. Waiting was something you dreaded even more than walking. It wasn’t the patience part, you were fine on that front for the most part. It was the standing; the forcing your knees to lock in place and not give out before you reached the register.

It calmed you that the cafe was a somewhat familiar setting. It was a cozy little shop with 3 tables on one side of the storefront, and space for a line to form on the other. They had a huge case next to the register with all of their freshly baked goods. Muffins, bagels, pastries, you name it, they had it. You always ended up buying a loaf or two of their sourdough.

What made the cafe familiar, however, was the fact that it had been around since before you were born. You’d grown up taking trips to it with your grandparents long before they’d taken you in post-blip. It was here where you tried your first hot chocolate, no more than 5 years old. You’d begged and pleaded with your grandparents to get you a drink since they were getting their own drinks, and since you were too little to have coffee, hot chocolate it was. 

As you reminisced on the past, ignoring the sorrow that followed when you thought of your late grandparents, the line moved forward and the bell dinged, signalling another customer entering the store. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the newcomer and finding yourself pleased when you realized it was the guy you’d seen the day prior.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stalking me.” You mused, turning your body to face the man who smiled when he recognized you.

He chuckled, eyes crinkling with crows feet that made you question just how old he was since the rest of his complexion was so young looking. “I swear, I’m not. I live a few blocks from here.” He answered, tone mirroring your own amused one.

You shuffled forward a bit as the line moved, the man following you. “So do you have classes this morning?”

“Uh, no, just ah- couldn’t sleep.” He finished, shrugging slightly. “What about you? What are you doing up so early?”

You smiled softly. “The same, actually. I woke up around 4 and couldn’t get back to sleep. I start work at 8 so I figured I would make the most of it and get breakfast out.”

He nodded at your answer, finding some familiarity in your words. “So, Mr. English major, what do you do for work?” He asked softly.

Your eyes crinkled at him using the same namesake. “I work in publishing, I’m an editor.”

You swore the sun was reflecting when he smiled. “That’s really cool.” He said as you both moved further up in line. There was only one person ahead of you now. 

“What about you? What do you do for work?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Freelance mostly. Honestly, I don’t really know what I’m gonna do with my life.”

You hummed. “I get that. You seem smart, I’m sure you’ll find something you love.”

He nodded, his smile lighter. “Yeah, I wanna help people. Always have.”

“Well, I don’t know too much about bioengineering, but sciencey stuff can usually be used for good.” You said feebly. You looked back to the counter and saw that the person in front of you was done ordering and it was now your turn. You gave the brunet a quick smile before turning back to the cashier. “Um, can I get a medium hot chocolate and a number three, please? Oh, and 3 plain bagels and a loaf of sourdough, please, thank you.” You felt awkward as you fished your wallet out of your pocket, paying for your order and giving the cashier your name for your food and drink. You then thanked them profusely when they handed you the bag of your additional baked goods.

You stood to the side as your..acquaintence or maybe friend?..ordered. He then gave his name for his order, Peter. It suited him, you decided. 

He smiled when he came to stand beside you. “Hot chocolate, huh?” He teased, a goofy grin on his face.

You shrugged, an equally big smile on your face. “I’ve never been that big a fan of coffee.”

“How can you be up this early and not want coffee?” He asked almost rhetorically, chuckling at what he probably thought was insanity.

“Anxiety? Pure adrenaline?” You shrugged once more, “I’ve been up for long enough that I’m pretty awake.”

He gave a nod. “Fair enough.”

You talked for a couple more minutes. He asked you about your job and the kinds of books you were working on. You asked him about the things he liked to do. You found you both had a love for all things fantasy, especially Star Wars. You learned Peter was just as much of a nerd and geek as you were.

“Do you have to get back soon?” He asked as your names were both called. 

“Not right away, I was planning on eating here.” You smiled, happy to spend more time talking to him. You shifted your bag and cane so that you could grab your order but Peter beat you to it, grabbing both of your orders with a sly grin on his face. 

The two of you settled in one of the tables, continuing to talk and muse about anything and everything. You talked as if you were old friends reconnecting. It was like you’d known him your whole life and yet he was a complete stranger.

He told you about his late aunt and you told him about your late grandparents. You’d both lost them around the same time. You also learned you were only a few months apart in age. It was like you were living the same life.

“Well, I’m headed this way.” Peter murmured as the two of you exited the cafe.

You smiled softly. “I am as well. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

He mirrored your smile. “Not at all. Here,” He offered to take your bag and offered out his free arm for you to hold on to. He was wearing that same ESU hoodie which was thin enough to feel just how firm his muscles were. You blushed as you wrapped your fingers around his bicep. It felt so intimate even though you’d done the same thing with your friends. You supposed it was because he was so beautiful and you harboured a small, yet growing, crush on the man.

When you reached your apartment building, you found yourself a burst of confidence. “Would it be okay if we exchanged numbers?” You asked, cheeks furiously red from more than just the chill of the weather. 

The smell of soy sauce and the different proteins simmering on the stove filled the apartment. It was a familiar aroma, one you tended to find most weeks. Dinner was just about ready and your friends should be walking in almost any moment now. They tended to be on time, at most 10 minutes late unless they texted you that they were running behind. 

Dinner tended to be on Wednesday. Mid-way through the week so Ned and MJ were usually too stressed from work to consider the prospect of dinner. You tended to plan for the weekly dinners throughout the week, finalizing your plan by Monday when you usually did your shopping. 

This week, dinner was on Monday. A slight wrench in your plans, hence going with a comfort meal of yours that you didn’t have to put too much thought towards or overly complicate it. But, MJ’s parents were visiting on Wednesday for god knows why, so Monday would have to suffice. Tuesday you could have leftovers, and Wednesday Ned would probably show up with takeout in an attempt to avoid the questions from MJ’s parents about why she lived with a man who wasn't her boyfriend. Her boyfriend who would conveniently be busy and give you and Ned another reason to dislike him. 

The lock clicked and your two best friends walked in. MJ was carrying a bag that she placed on the counter. Ned was at your side in an instant, a big goofy grin on his face once he noticed you were transferring the spam from the stove to a bowl with the rest of the components for your tailored fried rice dishes. 

“What can we do to help?” Ned asked after he and MJ said their hellos. 

You motioned to the cabinet that housed your dishes. “Grab plates or bowls and then we can eat.” You smiled warmly. 

The two of them plated their portions with each part that they desired. Your apartment was just slightly too small to have a real dining table, so dinners were often spent on the couch with bowls in laps or on foldout TV tray tables. 

“What are we watching tonight?” You hummed, settling into your usual spot, tucked into the corner of your sectional. 

MJ, on the opposite side of the couch to you, stretched out on the chaise, “There’s a documentary on Einstein that came out recently.”

“Or that movie we saw a few months ago, Project Hail Mary, came out on streaming recently.” Ned countered, sat between the two of you. 

“That was a good movie.” MJ and Ned both turned to look at you. “What’s your pick?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Gotta say I’m biased towards Ryan Gosling.”

“That’s my boy!” Ned cheered as you quickly cued up the movie. 

“Hey,” MJ nudged you. She was drying dishes while you washed them. “Are you doing okay?”

You shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah, just tired.”

MJ hummed. “Y’know, I’m guessing you would’ve told us if you hooked up with someone, so cut the shit.” She put the towel she’d been using down on the counter and put her hand on your shoulder. You bit your lip, knowing what was coming. “Where’d the bruises come from?”

“It’s not important.” You mumbled, continuing to wash the pan you’d been holding. 

Unsatisfied, MJ plucked the pan from your grasp and placed it down in the sink. She pried the hoodie away from your neck, inspecting the bruises that had finally started to shift from deep purple to now slightly yellowed. She sighed, releasing her grasp. “Who hurt you?”

“Where do you want me to start, in my childhood—“ MJ barked your name loud enough to stir Ned from whatever Spider-Man related article he had been engrossed in. “Fine! Jeez, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I got mugged, Spider-Man saved me, Ned walked me home. I’m perfectly fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, feeling frustrated because you knew she would get overprotective about it. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like how intense she could be, it just often overwhelmed you. The pestering questions about who did something and that she would confront them for you. And it’s not like she can travel to one of your coworker’s houses in Michigan to yell at them whenever they make a sly comment about your appearance. Some things just can’t be helped and you were okay with that.

MJ took one of your hands gently. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She started, “Did the police arrest them?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “Yeah, they’re getting charged with aggravated assault. I’m supposed to get a letter if I need to show up in court.”

She squeezed your hand in return. “Good, they deserve to get locked up for hurting you. Have you taken photos of the bruises?”

“Yeah, I emailed them over to the cops already.” You murmured. 

MJ pulled you in for a hug. “As long as they’re locked up and you’re safe, that’s all I care about.” 

You clutched at her sweater, tucking your chin in the crook of her neck. You met Ned’s eyes from the couch. He smiled softly and you gave him a loose thumbs up.

The sound of monitors beeping was overwhelming. It was too much, too loud. The image of your grandmother on the ventilator wasn’t something you could handle. 

You were curled into a ball just down the hallway from your grandmother’s hospital room. You knew she didn’t have much longer left. She hadn’t been improving no matter how many vaccines and antibiotics they gave her. She was going to leave you just like your grandfather had. But you couldn’t even face her to say goodbye. 

In the distance, the monitors started beeping rapidly. Alarms going off that you knew deep down were from your grandmother’s monitor. A handful of nurses rushed to her aid and all you could do was cry, mourning someone you hadn’t yet lost. 

The feeling was unbearable. It hadn’t been that long without your grandfather, and now your grandmother? It had to be a cruel trick from some higher power. You didn’t consider yourself super religious, but if you had to believe there was one out there, they were out to get you.

That feeling, it rooted itself deep in your stomach and stabbed you in the head. Your stomach gurgled nauseatingly, only pushed further by the overly sanitized scent of the hospital that burned your nose. It was a smell that would forever haunt you.

The feeling, you later decided, was shame. Shame for isolating yourself and avoiding death as if it was something that couldn’t touch you despite how sick you had been and how sick you continued to get. Death was something you still couldn’t figure out how to cope with. 

The shame pooled in your gut as you watched yourself curl further into yourself. It wasn’t real, you reminded yourself. Just a memory. One that you relived in your nightmares that had expanded tenfold after the void incident. 

The shame rooms had given your nightmares a burst of color in a sense. They’d added smells and sounds, and above all else, the shame you felt was dramatically increased. 

You felt it whenever you visited your grandparents' graves, when you awoke from the nightmares, and whenever the feeling decided to plunge into your veins and suffocate you. It was like shame was trying to kill you. And nothing you could do would stop it.

You always awoke in a cold sweat, panting and shaking, unable to stop the panic attack that always followed. 

Your throat burned, pain shackling it as if barbed wire had been tightly wrapped around your neck and pulled until you were suffocating. Tears fell down your cheeks as you clutched at your chest. Your heart was pounding rapidly and you feared that if possible, it would jump straight through your ribcage and onto your bed sheets. 

Your room was still dark, shades pulled tightly. You reckoned it had to be the early hours, but not quite dawn yet.

As your breathing struggled to steady, you focused on the things tethering you to reality. The soft texture of your blanket and the semi-cool temperature of your sheets. The stuffed bear you’d had since you were little, still remaining in your bed after so many years. Even in the low light, your eyes latched onto the stark red of the ribbon that was tied around the bear’s neck. It had loosened over time, but the familiar feeling was soothing.

You gently rubbed your fingertips along the ribbon, one side rough from the years, the other almost silk-like. The combined textures gave you something to focus on and eventually, your breathing evened out, leaving you with the residual shame from your nightmare.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks, breathing shallowly as you grabbed your phone. 4am. You were awake enough that you wouldn’t fall back asleep for at least another hour or two, and by then, you’d get at most an hour and a half before you’d have to start getting up for work.

It wasn’t worth it, you decided. And, after an hour of scrolling, you decided you’d make the most of the early start to your day and go for a short walk and get a breakfast sandwich before starting your work day. 

“Okay, that’s about all I had for this meeting. Does anyone have anything to add?” Your boss smiled kindly, waiting for any of your colleagues to speak up. “Alright, well, I’ll send an email out in a little bit just following up with the things we talked about and new assignments.” She called your name, “Hang around once everyone else leaves. I’ll talk to you guys in a bit!”

The rest of your colleagues left the call. Anxiety pooled in your stomach as you felt everyone’s eyes on you even though you were alone at your desk in your empty apartment. 

“So I just wanted to check in with you.” Your boss started and you subconsciously made yourself smaller, fearing she was going to reprimand you for something to do with your conditions. “I noticed some bruises around your neck during our meeting and I am mandated to ask if everything is ok at home? Are you safe?”

You let out a breath, almost feeling relieved. “Oh! Um, I got mugged over the weekend. I’m alright, I just bruise easily and they haven’t faded too much yet.”

She pursed her lips, nodding. “Alright, dear. Just be safe. Please reach out if you need anything.”

“Of course, have a good rest of your day, ma’am.” The call ended and you practically laughed. Those damn bruises. 

“Yeah I literally thought I was getting fired or something.” You laughed, phone pressed to your ear as you reached for a sauce jar on the top shelf. “Right? Like I bruise all the time so they aren’t really bothering me.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m just taking it one day at a time.” You placed the jar in your basket turning and bumping into a guy that you swore appeared out of nowhere. “Ned, I’ll call you back— Dude, I’m so sorry.”

The guy smiled softly, hands splayed across your biceps, steadying you. “It’s fine, are you ok?”

You nodded. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks as you stared at the guy in front of you. He was one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen. Curly brown hair, deep brown eyes that made the reflection of the fluorescent lights shine like stars. His hands felt strong and you suspected a sleeper build beneath the ESU hoodie he was sporting. 

“ESU?” You motioned to his hoodie. “I just finished my program there last year.”

“Oh nice, I’ve been taking online courses mostly.” His voice sounded so familiar, like he was in one of your classes but you would remember a pretty face like his. 

“Oh cool, what’re you studying?” You asked, shifting your weight and swapping your basket to the opposite arm as you leaned on your cane. 

“Bioengineering.” He answered. 

You let out a bubbling laugh. “Oh god you sound like my friends. Computer Science and Aerospace Engineering. Here I am with my English degree.”

He chuckled. “I would much rather code something than write essays.”

You shrugged. “Sure, as long as you don’t kill me when the AI overlords take over.”

“Yeah, right. As if aliens aren’t bad enough.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah but the Avengers beat Thanos and brought everyone back, I don’t think AI would be so kind.” You argued back, smirking. 

“Well that’s saying all AI is bad.” He pointed out. 

You cocked your head. “Generative AI is bad, in my humble anti-AI-English-major opinion. AI to like, cure cancer is better.”

“Agreed.” He grinned. 

You looked him over one more time, eyes landing on his basket. Ramen noodle cups, instant coffee, and some tissues. “Well Mr. Bioengineer, it was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise, Mr. English major.” He smiled, turning to walk the other way through the aisles. 

“Oh my god, Ned, I just talked to the hottest guy ever.” You were blushing like a teenage girl geeking out over some boyband.

“Oh yeah?” Ned hummed over the phone. “Was that the same guy you suddenly hung up with me to talk to?”

“Yeah, I almost slammed into him.” You got giddy thinking about his hands on your arms. “He was so pretty. You’d agree with me if you saw him.” Your phone was this time connected to your earbuds, thankfully since you no longer had a free hand with your cane in one and grocery bag in the other.

“I’m sure.” You could hear Ned typing in the background.

“What’re you working on?” You asked, pausing to fish your keys out of your pocket.

Ned hummed again, half-paying attention. “Just some freelance work. This dude was having trouble with a function on his website so I’m fixing it and improving some other stuff for him.”

“Ahh okay.” Your cane was balanced on your hip as you keyed into the building. “I’m about to get into the elevator so I’m gonna lose you again. Are we still good for dinner tonight?”

“Of course, MJ and I will be there at 6.” He answered quickly. “We’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” You smiled as Ned hung up the call and you stepped into the elevator. It had become a habit to call him when you were out running errands if neither him or MJ could accompany you. That way, he had some piece of mind when you were on your own. You supposed the company was nice even if it was a bit overbearing.

The elevator dinged and you stepped out onto your floor. You lived on the 8th floor of a 10-story building. It had a decent view and the elevator was always in working order which you were extremely appreciative of. You suspected the landlord took pity on you. She’d tried to be as accommodating as possible when you first toured the place, only a week after your grandmother had died.

Your apartment, room 816, was a 1-bedroom and 1-bathroom apartment with a full kitchen and living space, and your favorite amenity, the in-unit washer and dryer. That had been the biggest selling point for you. You’d put down a deposit the same day.

Your apartment was small, but cozy. In the time you’d lived there, you’d really managed to make it your own, with the help of Ned and MJ. The coziness was primarily due to the tall bookshelves that lined your living room. 4 of them to be exact. All but the fourth were completely full. You suspected that you had at most, 6 months before you would have to get rid of a bunch, or take a trip to IKEA to get another shelf. 

While you had a decent sized collection since you were a teen, your job sent you copies of every single book you had worked on, as well as some of the other books published by the company. On one hand it was nice because you always had something to read. But on the other hand, you had at least one whole bookshelf that you hadn’t read yet because the books sent to you were either books you weren’t interested in, or you just had so many that you couldn’t keep up. You were almost certain that if you had stopped by the mailroom, there would have been another package for you to add to your shelves.

MJ and Ned occasionally took books, but there were times when you would force them to take a box or slip a book or two into their bags when they weren’t looking. You were planning on pulling that again when they came over for dinner later that day.

Speaking of which, you had 4 hours to kill until they arrived. Which meant 2 hours of recuperation from your errand, an hour dedicated to getting ready, and the final hour dedicated to dinner prep and actually making the meal so it would be ready when they arrived. Dinner wasn’t anything too special, fried rice. It was a comfort food, and one that your friends enjoyed whenever you cooked it.

When you first started doing these weekly dinners, you’d made an effort to learn to cook their favorite foods even if it wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed yourself.

MJ had been surprisingly easy to learn to cook for. She loved grilled cheeses. Her first curated dinner was a homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese, with Haagen Daas for dessert, a pint for each person that you all ate while watching a movie.

Ned had been a bit harder to figure out. Not because you didn’t know what he liked, but because the dishes were more complicated. At one point you’d straight up asked for his Lola’s recipe cards for one of the dinners. But in the end, adobo had been one of his favorites.

The weekly dinners had started as a way to ensure that you would all see each other in person at least once a week. It was a weekly time where the three of you could all socialize and decompress all at the same time. It also gave you something to look forward to. 

You had been heavily in a depressive episode when MJ had first proposed the idea. But cooking had been something that you enjoyed and had learned how to do a lot when your grandparents got sicker. You were forced to learn, and it had been one of the most beneficial skills you’d learned. Of course, you were still learning, always trying to find new recipes that you thought your friends would enjoy. But you always liked to stick to some of the classics.

Tonight was fried rice. You would make a base of the rice, veggies, and egg. Your friends each preferred different things in their rice. MJ was a vegetarian and preferred the rice as is. Ned liked spam in his. So you always tried to have a few different options so that they could customize it to their tastes. 

New York has never exactly been a safe place. You were 7 when aliens attacked and destroyed half the city. You’d had to go stay with your grandparents for almost a year while your parents tried to figure out if the apartment building you lived in would be rebuilt–spoiler, they found some place else to cram into. Then, senior year, you and half of the rest of the universe snapped out of existence. The Blip. 5 years later, you returned and couldn’t find your parents. They moved out of New York and were deadset on never returning. Thankfully your grandparents took you in, until they passed that is. One after the other. Barely a year apart. Covid. Then of course, the incident that the government still has yet to explain. You had been walking down the block and out of nowhere you’re trapped reliving all of your traumas. And most recently, some mutant kid the government is looking for freezes and possesses people. 

Somehow, despite living through all of that and having to repeat senior year, you’d graduated with a bachelors in English and a minor in marketing. A weird mix, your college friends had called it. But it worked out, you got a job right after graduation as an editor for a decently big publishing company. It helped that you’d done an internship with them, shadowing an editor who proceeded to recommend you for a position. 

Through all that, you got sick. Really sick. It started not long after you got covid when it plagued your home and killed off your grandfather and left your grandmother in and out of hospitals until they stuck her on a ventilator and eventually she died too. You thought you just hadn’t fully recovered like your grandmother. But it got worse. You were fainting more than the average kid in their 20s. Then you had your first seizure. Scared the shit out of you and you begged your doctors to figure out what was wrong. 

Thankfully, your job was remote so you could hide your chronic illnesses for the most part. It helped that your zoom calls only showed your upper half, you could hide the days where you could barely walk and used your wheelchair to get around your apartment. You felt ridiculous and ashamed most of the time. You were young and healthy up until Covid hit. Not to mention the fact that through all of this, you’d been legally and medically transitioning. A lot of tears and vomiting and feeling like you should just give up. Who would miss you other than maybe your boss? You had no family left in your life. College friends had drifted almost instantly after graduation. It was hard to find reasons to keep going. 

And then Ned came into your life. It was dumb really. You’d joined a discord dedicated to building an app to track the superhero, Spider-Man. You helped edit some of the parts which resulted in you and Ned spending a lot of time talking. He would tell you about growing up and really having no one until he met his close friend and roommate, MJ. They almost felt like extensions of each other sometimes. 

He would tell you about the times that Spider-Man had saved him and his friends. How the hero must be one of his classmates–Flash–or one of his teachers–Mr. Harrington–which you told him was ridiculous. 

“Neither of them fit Spider-Man’s build or sound like him.” You’d argued on a call one night.

Ned rolled his eyes. “He could be using a voice modifier or using the suit to alter his appearance. I mean it’s a secret identity for a reason.”

“But that’s just ridiculous, MJ tell him!” You groaned.

MJ’s head popped into frame. “It is quite ridiculous.” She grinned, poking Ned.

It was nice, talking to them. They were the closest people you had to friends. And then they became even closer. 

You somehow managed to bump into them at a bodega by pure coincidence. Of course, you’d been on the verge of passing out, stopping in so that you could grab a gatorade and hopefully not collapse on the pavement.

And there they were, exactly as they were on camera. Ned, thankfully having shaved that abomination of a goatee, even by your standards, and MJ who was even prettier in person. Sometimes you couldn’t believe she’d never had a boyfriend or girlfriend before Paul. And Paul, he’d been there too that day. He’d been so confused why and how they knew you. You didn’t like him, even more so after meeting him in person. 

On the upside, you found out that Ned and MJ lived only a few blocks over, a 10 minute walk on one of your good days. They ended up visiting you more often than you visited them. So much so that they each had a spare key to your apartment. They’d insisted on it after witnessing one of your worst medical episodes, one that had landed you in the ER. 

And now, they were all you could think about as some asshole shoved you against the wall of an alleyway as another jammed a gun against your skull. Your eyes were welling up with tears as you clawed at the hands that clutched your jacket. Your cane had been kicked away from you. The adrenaline was pumping through your veins and you were certain all your vitals were going haywire.

“You’re gonna give us your wallet and phone,” The guy with the gun sneered. “And we’re gonna walk away, and you’re not gonna do shit, cripple.”

“Please, I seriously don’t have anything.” You choked out.

The guy that was holding you in place started digging through your pockets. As he pulled out your wallet, you heard the voice of your savior. “Hey asshole! I don’t think that belongs to you!”

In a flash, the gun that had been against your head was webbed to the wall, inches from you but now inoperable. The gunman’s hand was also conveniently webbed up. The other guy spun around, releasing his hold on you. His head whipped around violently as he tried to spot the one and only Spider-Man. 

You blinked and all of a sudden you were in the air. Spider-Man caught you as he pulled you up on the ledge he was perched on, brushing off the webbing he had used to yank you up from the pavement. He patted your shoulders, “Are you okay? I’ll be right back. Just stay here.” He jumped down and you could vaguely hear pained grunts. 

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears. Blood rushing and growing louder than the busy streets of New York. Adrenaline never really mixed well with you. It wasn’t long before your head started feeling foggy and you slid down against the lip of the building. Pulling your knees up, you pressed your head against them, trying your best to slow your breathing down and tell your body that you were okay. 

This was too much. You needed to text Ned or MJ. You needed—you couldn’t feel your phone in your pockets and your wallet had been taken out of your pocket before Spider-Man had pulled you out of there. 

And then, he returned. “Hey, they’re all webbed up and I alerted the cops, they’re on their way.” He crouched down beside you. “Hey, are you okay?”

You just barely lifted your head up. Your vision was blurry even with your glasses on. The light hurt and you winced, closing your eyes and pressing your head back against your knees. 

“Woah, what’s wrong?” He asked again. “E.V. check his vitals.” He whispered to what you presumed was some robot in his suit. “Okay, your heart rate is really high and your blood pressure is low.”

“I need, um, gatorade or something salty.” You croaked out. “And uh, my cane, phone, and wallet.”

“Right, are you okay to move? I can hold you up or carry you, but I don’t wanna swing if it’s going to bother you.” He sounded nervous. You couldn’t blame him. He was used to fighting aliens and bad guys. Some nobody fighting incurable conditions isn’t something he’s equipped to deal with. 

“Once I get my cane I’ll be a bit better. I’m sorry.” You murmured, started to shift to get up. 

He was immediately attentive, taking one of your hands and wrapping his other arm around your back. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t say that. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

You sniffled. “I just— thank you.” You offered him a weak smile. 

“Always.” He spoke softly. “Okay, wrap your arms around my neck and we’re gonna go slow.”

You nodded, holding onto his shoulders before tightening them around his neck when he lifted you with one arm secured around your waist. The other held onto the wall as he carefully scaled the wall until you had your feet safely on the ground once more. 

His arm stayed wrapped around your waist until your cane was in hand and you had some of your balance restored. “Where can I take you? Or is there someone you can call?” He asked next, gathering your clattered possessions from the ground. 

You blinked a few times. “Um, I can call my friends. Ned and MJ, yeah, I’ll call them. They don’t live too far from here.”

The masked man seemed to freeze up the moment you said those names, but you assumed it was just your vision still being not completely clear. “Oh, okay. I’ll wait with you until they get here.”

You nodded, finding Ned’s contact quickly as his and MJ’s were pinned. He was just more likely to be looking at his phone, coding genius and whatnot. 

Ned picked up on the second ring, just as you thought. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Um, can you or MJ come get me?” You mumbled, another wave of anxiety rushing over you at the thought of burdening your only friends with something as dumb as this situation. You already had the most notable hero of New York fretting over your every need. How pathetic was that?

“What happened? Where are you?” He asked quickly. 

You looked towards the street, trying to remember where exactly you were. You mumbled out the street number and the nearest sign logo. “I got mugged, Spider-Man is with me. I’m okay.”

“Dude, what! Spider-Man saved you? We gotta get a picture and update the Spidey-Tracker.” Ned stammered excitedly. 

You smiled softly at the pure excitement that radiated from him. “Well obviously. But uh, Ned?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can you bring some gatorade? I’m having a syncope episode.” You winced as you admitted it. 

“Dude, I was literally grabbing you a gatorade when you said that.” God you loved him. Not in a romantic way or anything, but he and MJ seemed to always know just how to take care of you. It probably helped that they’re both insanely smart and more than likely researched your conditions and potential comorbidities to bring up with your doctors. They’d even helped you research which wheelchair to get once you’d saved up enough and insurance agreed to pay a substantial sum. 

Your love for the two of them was almost enough to ease your guilt about asking so much of them, even though they never complained or had any issue with occasionally playing caretaker. Hell, MJ had nearly gotten into two different fights with people giving you shit for using different mobility aids. They meant so much to you, and it hurt knowing you could never repay them for everything they’d done for you. 

Ned would be there in 10 minutes. MJ had an interview, some sciencey position at Oscorp that you couldn’t remember the name of much less explain even if you did know. Spider-Man helped you sit down. The cops came while you waited. They took a brief statement and you explained a friend was coming to get you. 

Finally, Ned arrived and hugged you instantly. Relief flooded through your bones as you finally had someone familiar with you. The feeling cascaded through you once you chugged the whole bottle of gatorade. 

“Okay uh, you guys want me to walk you home or?” Spider-Man piped up. He put on an almost forced deeper even more New York accent. 

You raised a brow at him but ultimately ignored it. “We should be okay, I don’t live far.”

“I got him, don’t worry.” Ned smiled. 

Spider-Man seemed sad, if that was even possible to tell through the whole mask and putting on a front. He nodded and swung out of the alleyway, leaving you and Ned alone. 

“You okay?” Ned asked, holding out his arm for your free hand to hold onto. 

You shrugged. “I mean, about as good as someone who had a gun held to their head can be.”

“Jesus, dude. They had a gun? I thought it was just like a knife or something.” Ned looked at you, scanning for any visible injuries, eyes settling on the already darkening bruises around your neck. You looked away, shame pooling in your gut. Ned called your name but you shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you walked. “Is it just those bruises? Did Spider-Man get there before—“

“Yeah. It’s just those. I bruise easily, remember?” You let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Honestly, they barely touched me.”

“Okay, but MJ’s going to lecture you if she sees those.” Ned added. 

You sighed. “I know, please don’t tell her.”

“I won’t, but one of us should be with you when you go out.” Ned squeezed your arm. “Not even just because of the mugging, but you’re getting sicker. Until you get on meds that help you, you really shouldn’t go out alone.”

“I want to be independent.” You croaked out, eyes and throat burning as the thoughts you never dared verbalize were spoken by your best friend. “That’s the whole point of me getting the mobility aids and accommodating every aspect of my life.”

You could feel the pity radiating off of Ned as if you could look at him and physically see a glowing halo around him with bright flashing lights. “I know that, but I’m worried about you. MJ’s worried about you.” He paused as he reached the door to your apartment building. “We just want you to be okay. You’re our friend. We care about you.”

“I know, I just— I just want to lie down and rest.” You breathed out, keying yourself into the building. 

Ned didn’t leave your side until you were fully settled in bed with an assortment of hydration and salty snacks, your laptop cued up with your comfort show. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

You nodded, tucking your chin into the hoodie you’d thrown on, partially as a way to cover up the bruises. “I’m ok, Ned. I’ll call if anything happens, I promise.” 

Ned gave a small nod, accepting defeat in that you wouldn’t let him help any further. “Okay.” He gave you a hug before heading out.