introduction | choices🕷

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3:30..
3:31..
3:32..

your date had started 1 hour ago, but he was nowhere to be seen, this wasn't the first time he was late to a date, either, you knew he wasn't too big on "labels", or whatever, but didn't your years of being together mean anything to him?

your leg bounced under under table at the café your date was supposed to take place in an hour ago, and almost on cue, there he was, he was almost impossible to not recognize, his big hair, punky clothing and his lip piercings.

"where were you?" you said, not bothering to hide the agitation in your voice. you were mad and you had a reason to be.

Hobie took of his jacket, revealing a black tank top he wore underneath. his hair was a mess, like he'd been running around or something, but to be fair, his hair was almost always messy.

"where where you?" you asked again, your voice laced with annoyance.

"calm down love, band practice took a little more time, that's it," he said, obviously trying to calm you down.

"you could've called, said you were going to be late. I waited like an idiot for an hour, hobie!" you cried,

"I know, and im sorry, okay, love?"

you looked into his eyes, and you could tell he really was sorry, but still, what would it have took to call? you weren't even angry. you were tired, this happened almost all the time, almost every. single. date this happened.

"what am I to you, hobie?" you asked, looking into his eyes as he looked at you back,

"what?"

"what am I to you?" you repeated. you knew he was going to mention something about labels, and that made you mad. what was wrong with him calling you his girlfriend?

he stared at you, clicking his tongue, as if contemplating what to say to you.

"look love, i-"

"say it."

"what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow,

"say I'm your girlfriend, hobie."

he was clearly frustrated, but so were you! he wasn't the one that waited an hour for a date.

"youre my girlfriend." he said, a smile forming on his lips.

"happy?" he added

you smiled. it was the first time he'd ever called you his girlfriend. it seemed to make up for him being late. even if it wasn't the first time.

"yes," you nodded.

"good." he said,

that's when you noticed how beaten up he looked, there were cuts his face and he looked tired. as if he just came from a fight.

"what happened?" you blurted out, cupping his face as your thumb traced one of his cuts.

"it's nothing-"

"what happened? hobie. please. tell me." you begged, somehow knowing this had a connection to all those times he'd been late

"I'm.. "

"don't lie to me, hobie,"

he sighed, "I'm spiderpunk."

"what?" you whispered, your brain just now processing his words.

"I'm spiderpunk, love, live and in the flesh." he repeated,

"I know," you rolled your eyes, "I'm sorry for being mad at you, you know, for being late. that makes sense." you said, a twinge of guilt in your voice

he nodded.

"why didn't you tell me earlier?" you said, a but hurt.

"I didn't know how to." he sighed. "and I wanted to keep you safe. it's better if you didn't know I was spiderpunk."

"how?" you said, a bit of anger in your voice. he was basically saying he didn't trust you.

"look, y/n, if a villain knows you're special to me, you could be taken away from me, you could be targeted." he tried to explain

"what does that have to do with me knowing my boyfriend is spiderpunk? " you snapped back, before letting out a deep breath, realizing how selfish you might sound.

"it's just, with you knowing I'm spiderpunk, the consequences might be fatal, there might be a lot of things you might have to risk, things you might have to let go of.. are you okay with that?"

 are you okay with that?"

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