𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙮 𝙀𝙮𝙚 | 𝙋𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧

𝙎 𝙏 𝙐 𝘿 𝙄 𝙊 𝙆 𝙄 𝙎 𝙎

This past week my mind has just been in scrambles. My mom's illness continuing to worsen, Peter MIA half the time and us not making much progress in our "friendship", I haven't talked to MJ or Spiderman in a hot minute, and just all together I haven't been feeling the best. I just feel drained, like the world is just resting on my shoulders- in a high schooler's world, I know this could be way worse though. The bags under my eyes are getting darker, and it's hard to sleep. I'm taking melatonin for Christ's sake. A good way to describe my mood is like listening to a Cigarettes After Sex album.

The day went by slowly, but finally it's over and it's Friday so that's a bonus. I asked my art teacher if I could paint in the studio after school and since she literally doesn't care, she said yes. I've really wanted to paint for a while now, it's kind of like meditation. Drawing is great and all, but paint can be more expressive. The brush strokes, the colors and how they mix on the canvas. The bell rang and I didn't rush to my locker even though I was excited to paint and have a distraction. I wanted to get in the mood of feeling relaxed and mellow, listen to slow and borderline sad songs, but hey, sad songs are the best songs, right? So, I took my time packing my things us and walking down the flights of stairs. Making my way to the studio I walked differently, more graceful, and brushed my finger tips along the grooves of the wall. It was soothing.

As I got to the studio the door was unlocked, and my teacher had even set an easel up for me on the table. I opened some of the windows to create airflow, letting in the dirty smells of New York and the sounds of taxis honking. I liked it though, it's a vibe. Thinking of the image I want to create in my head, I grab all of my supplies- the brushes, paint palette, oil paint, rags, smock.

Getting lost in the paint brush dancing across the canvas, I was completely unaware of my surroundings, and almost my consciousness. Swirls like Van Gogh make up blue, brown, and green eyes across the painting. Teardrops repeated over the eyes, and now I'm embellishing the background. I had no plan going into this painting, but I'm satisfied with how it's turning out. I shut my eyes for a second to take in the music that has helped guide my hand the whole time, mesmerized by the sounds in my ears. This was the first time in a while where I wasn't distracted or had thoughts racing through my mind.

The moment broke though as I felt hands slide around my waist, a chin on my shoulder, and an exhale on my neck. I shoot my eyes open, drop my paintbrush, and I let out a little yelp because I was so zoned out. Take any guesses as to who it was? Non other than the spider himself. I turn around and look at him, questioning if I should jokingly lecture him on startling me or just be happy to see him- I was feeling both. I looked at him and tilted my head, shaking it in disapproval, smiling at the same time though.
"Why are you smiling like that? I surprise you and shake your head at me?" He remarks.
"You definitely surprised me," I say with a laugh, "Shit, did I get paint on you?" I ask, looking at his leg. There it was, a periwinkle stroke of paint now on his suit. Oil paint isn't easy to get out of clothes, and I don't want to mess up his suit.
"Crap, erm, hold on, I'll try to clean it off," I say, getting up from my chair and grabbing a rag from the supply shelf.
"Hey don't worry about it," He says as I'm sitting back down in my chair, prepared to wipe it off.
"Are you sure? Oil paint doesn't dry and it won't come out. The oils and chemicals in it are super pesky and really don't like to cooperate with peopl-"
"Amelia, it's okay. I like it, something different from red and blue and the usual rips I have to repair."
"Alright, I'll just put this back." I said, going back to the shelf to put the rag back.
I didn't mind him being here at all, but I was kind of confused as to why. I mean, the art studios definitely couldn't compare to our rooftop and I didn't understand why he would want to visit me? Like I'm not nearly as important as saving lives and monitoring the city, so why was he here? Don't get me wrong, it's not like I haven't missed him and his corny jokes, our midnight talks that don't involve a phone, and the way he kissed me the other night- it's been over a week since we've seen each other, and I don't know about him, but it's felt like forever. As if he was reading my thoughts, he looked at me and asked
"Are you happy that I came here?" He asks, actually sounding nervous.
"I would kiss you if I could," I replied. I really would. The kiss from the other night... there aren't words, and it's one of the only things that has kept me smiling.
"Why can't you kiss me?" He said, stepping closer, placing an arm on either side of me. I was still sitting on my stool, looking up at his tall figure.
"I mean, there are cameras in here, I really don't want the janitor walking in on us, I'm gross and have paint on me, and I still don't know why you would want to kiss m-" I was saying, looking and pointing around the room. As I turned back to him, S had pulled up his mask without me seeing and pressed his lips against mine. King of surprises today I guess. Oh how I missed him.