▄▄ ˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 'ˎ˗ ──
IN WHICH , ── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
after Spider-man almost breaks
into her window, Amala has to
balance her two new lives: the
life where she knows him and the
life where she falls for Peter Parker . .
▄▄ *+...
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CHAPTER TWO; first meetings pt. 2
"SPIDER-MAN? SIR..." AMALA SAID, SHAKING THE FIGURE PASSED OUT ON HER VANITY TABLE.
Damn it, she cursed to herself.
Taking a deep breath, she bent down in front of him and placed her hands on the tips of his knee.
"Excuse me? Uhm... Spider-man? Are you- are you okay?" She asked again, trying to lightly shake him into consciousness.
He mumbled something in return before stilling again.
From this close, he didn't look like a hero anymore. That façade of strength and resilience looked gloomy under lamplight. Instead, all she saw was a bare man, weak and tired. They didn't show this side of heroes in the media — they couldn't afford to. Vulnerability equated to imperfection, and what was a hero if they were not perfect?
Amala took a deep breath and something in her chest sank. She swallowed the lump in her throat before gently cupping Spider-man's masked face. She cradled it in her palms with as much care to not hurt him.
"I know you're tired but I need you to wake up for me, okay? I can't help you otherwise."
"Hmph..."
"There you go," She beamed. "I'm sorry, I know. But you're bleeding pretty bad..."
Slowly, Spider-man's posture tightened — a sign that he was awake. "Mphm- fuck..."
His head was still in Amala's hands and the man made no effort to get out of it.
Amala couldn't tell if he was looking or even awake as the mask obstructed his face. However, moments later, the whites of his mask blinked black several times.
"I'm... I'm so sorry," he began to say. "I'm really sorry. I'm just -"
She cut him off, "Hey! It's alright. You're good- let me help you."
All he did was nod.
Amala slowly let go of his face. Taking a step back, she assessed the state Spider-man was in. His whole body looked pretty rough, at least from what she could make out. His suit was dirty and slightly tattered yet it had no holes in it... at all. It just looked like the first layers of it were ripped but the lining was still intact.
Interesting, she thought to herself.
Of course, for a hero of his kind, an adequate suit had to be made.
Despite all of this, blood still seeped from the spandex-like fabric. On his left leg and across his chest, crimson pooled and stained the suit an even heavier concentrated shade of red. Similarly, there was a gash on his neck where his mask had slightly risen up. It looked bruised pretty badly and was trickling blood as well.
