#spidervan

You don’t go to the fanciest college, not by a mile, but it has a wet darkroom and a good soccer team, and that’s all you and Van care about.

“Admissions close in a month. I expect all of you to enter.” Your professor makes a point of glaring at the kids who clearly only took photography as a joke.

Not you, though, you picked it because you love photography…

Truthfully, you picked it because Van loves photography. You just needed another subject, and well, you’d follow them anywhere.

Van spins your way, the gears in their head clearly turning as they decide what to submit for the competition. Your teacher only spent 5 minutes explaining it, but you got the gist. Submit some good photos, potentially win some money.

“You got any ideas?”

You shake your head, “I’ll figure something out... that money is mine.”

They scoff as they return to developing their latest shots.

It was so on.

You two are undoubtedly the best in the course. Sure, you had barely touched a camera before this year, but the skill came easily, especially with Van to guide you. If anyone is going to win that money, it’ll be you or them, and you’ll obviously be making a competition out of it.

Having finished your work for the day, you glance up at them in the dim red lights. “Are we still on for this afternoon?”

The question is more of a rhetorical one by this stage, the answer is always yes, but you ask anyway.

Van immediately panics, clearly having forgotten. “Shoot, sorry I’ve got somewhere to be.”

You’d laugh at the answer if not for the oddly apologetic look on their face. Where would Van have to be other than hanging with you?

It’s not like you’re dependent on Van, but you’re best friends. You would’ve thought they’d tell you earlier if they were going to blow off plans, or at least why.

Rushing out of the room, they leave you behind feeling hurt and confused. Wherever they have to be is obviously more important than you.

You barely see Van for the rest of the week, not in the wet darkroom or even in your free time.

You spot them once around campus, just a glimpse of messy red hair. But when you call out their name, their eyes panic, and they speed off, disappearing again.

Finally, you get your chance to talk to them when they appear at practice.

"Look who finally decided to show up.”

Jackie’s voice is loud and displeased as Van arrives - thirty minutes late, for that matter.

It’s hard to stay mad at them for long. Training against the backup keeper is like shooting at an open goal, but it’s not forgotten. Especially since they refuse to tell anyone where they’ve been. Not even you.

Van mumbles an apology, head low as they make their way over to the goals, ignoring your questioning glare.

Coach restarts the drill, and you fall back into rhythm: run, receive the ball, shoot.

You have great aim, the best on the team, kicking the ball with such precision to land in the top right corner.

It’s the perfect shot, surely Van stands no chance.

You’re proven wrong almost instantly as they jump up with power and speed you’ve never seen from them before, collecting the ball with ease.

You laugh in disbelief. “What the hell, Palmer?!”

You’ve never seen them make a better save, and you can only smile knowing they’re on your team. It is how they landed a scholarship, after all.

That, and their surprisingly nerdy love for science.

“Thought I’d go easy on you, lady?” They shoot you a wink before rolling the ball back to the defense.

It’s almost enough to make you forget how distant they’ve been.

Almost.

As the drill comes to a end, the two of you walk in a tense silence that feels difficult to break.

“I haven’t really seen you in a while… Where've you been?” Their face twitches with guilt as they stare ahead, carefully picking their words.

“Nowhere, really. Just haven’t felt like dealing with school, you know?”

You nod, but you can tell it’s not the whole truth. That doesn’t explain why they’ve been ditching you or running away when you see them.

Your next words feel desperate, but in all honesty, you are desperate, just wanting to be around them more. “Maybe I can come with you next time?”

“N- uhhh, maybe…” they shrug, and your heart sinks. It’s clear they don’t want you around. You speed off into the locker room, ignoring whatever they have to say next.

You don’t know what you did wrong, why your best friend is suddenly pushing you away.

In your best attempt to forget about it, you force yourself into conversation with the other girls.

“Oh, the spider guy? I saw him once on my way home, it was awesome!”

It’s easy to tell what they’re all talking about. New York’s new masked hero, a mysterious vigilante who swings on webs from building to building, saving kids and preventing crime.

“Why do you assume they’re a man, Mari?” Shauna looks all but impressed, particularly when Jackie pipes up beside her.

“Because everyone calls him Spider-Man, duh?”

You can’t help yourself as your eyes flick over to Van, surprised that they aren’t engaging. This is totally up their alley, the only thing that even comes close to their movie collection is their pile of comics.

You would’ve thought they’d jump at the chance to discuss the hero. Instead, they’re simply scoffing, faced away as they change.

The conversation melts into background noise, and your eyes stay glued to them. You’re staring, definitely for too long to be considered normal, but you don’t care.

You just wish they’d be honest with you. That’s all.

With a heavy sigh, your attention turns to your bag, and at a glimpse of your camera, an idea springs into your head.

If Van doesn’t want to be around you, fine. You’ll distract yourself with the photography competition, and you’re going to photograph Spider-Man.

The walk back to your apartment is lonely without the redhead next to you. Obviously, they’re too busy to even pretend that they still care about you.

No.

You’re not going to think about Van.

Pulling your camera out of your bag, you decide to get a glimpse of the superhero instead.

As you fiddle with the lens, you don’t even notice the car running the red until you’re being swung away in the grip of a stranger.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

Your stomach turns, breathing heavy from the movement, hair whipping your face in the air.

The ground is too far away for comfort, and you find yourself clinging to the stranger. Their body is pressed against yours, holding your waist.

Still shaking, you turn to observe them. The red mask, the design of their suit. The web that's shooting out from their wrist as they swing you along.

Spider-Man just picked you up off the street.

Sure, you wanted to find the hero, but this is much closer than you expected. Plus, the camera hanging around your neck is the last thing on your mind as you grip them desperately, praying to be put down.

Finally, they come to a stop, landing you back on the ground right in front of your apartment complex.

How do they know where you live?

Surely it’s a coincidence.

It still hasn’t quite clicked. Spider-Man just saved you from being run over... and dropped you home?

You must be staring at them for too long because they clear their throat.

“You should be more careful next time.” Their voice is soothing, much calmer than your ragged breathing.

“Yeah… I will. Thank you?”

With a simple nod, they swing away. You didn’t get a photo, but at least you have a good story to tell.

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

“Jax! You will never guess what happened to me on Friday.”

This catches the girl’s attention, spinning around and nearly dropping her camera in the process.

“What?”

You describe the encounter, watching her eyes widen with every word.

“And then he just swung away?”

Nodding, you notice the eyes of your classmates at Jackie’s shrieks. “Well, they told me to be more careful first, but yeah.”

Nearby, Van pipes up, and you almost flinch at their tone. “Maybe you should’ve been more careful.”

You haven’t spoken all lesson, and their glare hurts worse than their indifference.

“Look,” they sigh, face softening as they explain, “I just mean… the guy can’t save you all the time, right?”

You nod despite your confusion, unable to find it in you to fight.

At least they’re talking to you.

Moving closer to Van, you inspect their shots of the city skyline, and you can’t help but compliment them.

“These are really good, Palmer.”

Van’s smile makes you melt, as if the two of you were normal again. Like nothing has changed.

“Thanks,” but then they laugh like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of, and you’re reminded of the distance that’s been growing.

“They’re just from some places I’ve been hanging around.”

Places they’ve been without you.

The interaction replays in your mind for days as you overthink everything you could’ve done to upset Van.

You have no idea why they seem so distant, or why you even care that much.

You have other friends, and you’re not sure why the one ignoring you is the one invading your mind.

Though you come to the conclusion that the anxious pull in your chest whenever you think about them is best ignored.

It’s better not to think about their smile or their stupid jokes, definitely not their laugh.

Especially since it’s been days since you last spoke to them.

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

New York is known for many things, but having a peaceful ambience is not one of them. The sound of sirens and nearby traffic is never the nicest way to start your morning, but you make do.

Walking in the cold morning air, you’re merely minutes away from campus when you see them.

Van. Walking in the wrong direction to be headed to the same location, rushing down the street, and unaware of your presence.

You shouldn’t watch them, and you certainly shouldn’t follow them, you know that would be weird. But the curiosity that’s been building all week is finally getting the better of you, and you follow their lead down the street.

It’s nearly impossible to keep up with them as they reach an intersection, and once you turn the corner, they’ve seemingly disappeared into thin air.

Where could they have gone so quickly?

Or maybe more importantly, why?

Van rarely walks with purpose, the only times you’ve seen them even attempt to speed walk are when they’re trying to keep up with you.

Clearly, wherever they have to be is urgent, and they disappeared without a trace before you could find out what it is.

Giving up, you turn around to head back, only to hear loud alarms coming from a nearby jewellery store.

A flash of red swings past you seconds later, and you pull your camera out in a hurry, following the strings of web down the street.

This could be your chance.

You watch through your camera as the hero takes on a group of men, stopping them from running from the scene of the crime.

Armed robbers at this hour?

Yeah, you need to get out of this city.

Regardless, you watch on.

Spider-Man snatching the guns with their web before swinging down to fight the crooks. Click. The men wrestling with the outnumbered hero as they begin their escape. Click. Spider-Man being punched in the face, knocked down onto the road, unbeknownst to oncoming traffic. Cli-

“Oh, SHIT!”

Adrenaline works faster than your brain, pushing you to sprint down the street before you’ve even processed what you’re doing.

Holding a hand out to alert oncoming cars, you quickly scoop your arms around the vigilante’s shoulders, dragging them off the road and away from danger.

Out of breath, you glance down at the hero below you. It only then occurs to you what you’ve done, releasing them from your grip.

“Guess we’re even now, right?”

“What, are you stalking me?”

“Something like that,” you shake your camera before nodding towards the escaping criminals, “shouldn’t you like… stop them?”

“Shit! Thanks, lady.” They scramble to their feet, and the nickname echoes in your mind.

No one calls you that except…

Holy shit.

“Van?”

It's merely a mumble, but it’s enough to cause a subtle twitch of the hero’s head before they swing off.

That can’t be Van… no way.

But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense.

Your eyes flick back to Spider-Man, watching them as they capture the criminals, leaving them tied together in webs before stumbling into an alley.

As if on their own, your legs make their way to the hero.

Battered and bruised, they lean against the wall, watching you approach them.

“Palmer?”

You’re either the dumbest person on the planet, or you’re about to uncover your best friend’s secret double life.

With a deep sigh, they pull the mask off, releasing their scruffy red hair to reveal their bloody face.

It really is Van, staring you down with a mix of exhaustion and regret.

“What… How?” You’re at a loss for words, slowly creeping toward them, almost afraid that they’ll disappear.

“It’s a long story.”

Maybe you should be paying attention to Van as they begin their long-winded explanation... something about a radioactive spider? You’re not sure. You’re too busy examining the scratches and little scars on their face.

You just found out the reason why Van has been acting so weird, and all you can think about is how good they look.

Snapping out of it, you realise they’re staring at you, waiting for you to say something.

“I thought you hated me, I thought-“

“No.” Their eyebrows furrow, “I don’t hate you. Never.”

You’re standing close now, holding eye contact as they stumble out their words.

“I was trying to keep you away from this stuff. I didn’t want you to get hurt like the superhero’s girlfriend in every comic ever.”

Your head tilts as you ignore the tug in your chest, “Girlfriend?”

They roll their eyes, “whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Sure, dweeb.” They move closer to you, smiling but clearly feeling guilty as you mumble. “You should’ve told me.”

Bringing a hand up to brush hair out of your face, they whisper earnestly.

“I’m sorry.”

You look away in the hope that they won’t see how red your face has become, but they only tug your chin to face them.

“It was killing me to keep this from you.”

“Yeah? Well, it literally almost killed you.” You deflect, taking a step back despite every urge to move closer.

“You clearly need my help.”

Their mouth opens to retaliate, only to be cut off by nearby sirens.

With the mask back on, they extend their hand, “We should get out of here.”

The ride is more comfortable now you know who’s behind the mask. Yet you still cling closer as they swing you through the city, not because you’re scared, but because it’s Van.

They drop you off a street away from campus, and you’re almost disappointed when they let you go.

“Thanks again, lady.”

Swinging away before you can get a word in, they leave you standing there. You watch them until they’ve completely disappeared from view, head still spinning.

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

Looking up from your negatives, you watch Van enter the wet darkroom. When they shoot you a smile and take their place next to you, everything feels back to normal.

As normal as it can be after your discovery a couple of days ago.

They examine your strip of film, the one you took of Spider-Man, of them.

“Well, that one is horrible,” pointing at one that captured Spider-Man mid-knockout, half-conscious and falling to the ground, “not even worth developing.”

No, it’s not the best photo you’ve ever taken, but that’s not going to stop you from developing it.

Grinning, you lean close to them, whispering, “You gonna sign it for me?”

They shove you away, a grin plastered on their face.

“You wish.”

“Whatever, these are totally going to win me the competition.”

Except they won't, you've already decided not to submit those particular shots, choosing to keep them for yourself instead.

Van's photos are better anyway, not that you'll ever tell them that.

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

You’ve only just settled on your couch, book in hand, when you hear the tell-tale thud from your balcony.

It’s all part of your new routine.

Van often appears at your apartment, bleeding or injured in some form, and you patch them up.

They pretend it doesn’t hurt, and you pretend it doesn’t worry you.

Sliding your door open, you watch them limp onto your couch, collapsing with a cough. It’s obviously bad, you know that when they don’t even attempt to joke about it.

You don’t have to ask where they’re hurt like you normally would. The nasty cut on their side is visible, slicing through their suit.

They weakly slide up to remove their suit, a groan escaping them in the process.

Your eyes have gotten used to avoiding their bound chest, but it’s particularly easy this time, gaze glued to the wound.

“Fuck! Ok, one second.”

Pulling out your well-used medical kit, you crouch down to treat Van, apologising for their wince as you disinfect the cut.

You have to force yourself not to look up at how their head is tilted back, eyes glaring down at you.

Focus.

Once you’re done, you sit up next to them, wiping a little scratch on their cheek.

This proves to be a much more difficult task than treating the large wound. Because this way, you have to look at them, really look at them, and pretend you’re not worried.

“I’m fine.” They can see right through you, shuffling up with a barely disguised grimace, “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Van-“

“I’m serious, I’m ok,” they grab your wrist, a more genuine smile now on their face.

“Please just be more careful?”

They nod, “If you keep this up, I might start to think that you care about me.”

“Shut up, you know I do.”

You’re so close you can feel the heat radiating off of them, the shake of their head against your hand.

You brush off the hair stuck to their sweaty face, sure that if you stay like this, you’ll say something stupid. Their proximity is really messing with you.

“Thank you, for y’know… taking care of me.” Glancing up at you, their head tilts into your hand, moving towards you.

“Of course,” you can feel the blood flush into your cheeks, “as long as you keep surviving, I’ll be here.”

Your attempt at deflection doesn’t work this time, and Van only leans closer to you, slowly, giving you every opportunity to back away.

But you don’t want to.

Instead, you close the gap, tentatively doing something you’ve thought about more than you’d like to admit.

Their lips taste like a mixture of blood and sweat, but you couldn’t care less, gently weaving your hand into their hair.

When you pull away, you nearly panic, worried that you misread the situation and ruined everything. But they smile contentedly, kissing you again like it’s second nature.

Releasing an exhausted sigh, their eyes flutter closed. You readjust, and they take the opportunity to lean comfortably against you, leaving you with no choice but to lie there and hold them.