~ 𝑺𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 ~ | ✔︎

~21: Bella Notte~

As more of the evening arrived, the once sunny aura of the afternoon faded into layers upon layers of grey and gloomy clouds. Thunder emitted yet again. The rain grew heavier with every second. It flooded the streets and was beating down on flamboyant trees. And as he passed through, the unpaved paths below awash with mud; while the small ponds and larger bodies of water were swelling.

His arms were getting restless as he continued to swing away from the earlier scene. The relentlessness of the rain was getting harder to endure as forceful droplets descended down, blending with his own red body fluid that still seeped through.

He needed to hurry before it got infected, but he wasn't sure on where to head. He most certainly couldn't go to a hospital and have his secret identity be revealed unwillingly. And he couldn't exactly go to Ned as he had no basic training on healing wounds. May would just chide at him about the dangers of being a superhuman. There was practically no one he could turn to, but someone did cross his mind.

She may have some medical capabilities due to tidbits of information about her father's few occupations; and if she couldn't be of any service, at least her company would give him a sense of security.

So he swung as fast as he could en route to the destination in mind.
•••

Worry lines creased Michelle's forehead. She wasn't so sure on the untimely events of before. Peter had vanished and she left her other friend to face an evil madman on his own. Her stomach twisted and turned, unsettling along with her thoughts and emotions.

It wasn't until she heard a rapid knocking on the glass doors of her balcony that she departed from the heaviness of her heart. She hurried to the entrance, hoping to see a specific person on the other side. As she unveiled the curtains to the evening downpour, droplets of water fogged the glass but the striking blue and red colors made clear on who awaited from behind.

Relief washed over her to see he had survived, but once she opened her door to invite him in, her eyes focused on the laceration on his side that stretched down to the beginning of his waistline. Fear and sadness now replaced her worry as she helped him to settle on her bed. After closing the doors and curtains shut, she hastened to her drawer grabbing a medium length washcloth and bounded back to the hurt figure.

"Press down on this," she instructed as she placed it on top of as much of the cut as she could, "I'm going to grab the first aide kit. I'll be right back." In an instant, she disappeared down her spiral staircase in search of proper tools. Meanwhile, Spider-Man did as was told and pressed the towel firmly on the cut while his other hand was tightly gripping the headboard of her bed.

As fast as she left was as quickly as she returned, sitting beside him with the kit in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She handed him the bottle and he took it immediately, lifting his mask a bit up to his lips—downing as much water as he could handle. Once he finished half the bottle he closed it, setting it aside while he tugged his mask back down. Michelle was too busy inspecting the cut to notice, but once she heard him finish she found herself asking, "What happened?"

"I managed to defeat the guy, but he nicked me with his claw when I least expected," his words came out in a hiss of pain as the cool air hit the cut when Michelle unraveled the cloth from it. "I need to clean it. I might have to cut the suit open a bit." He shook his head and lifted a hand to stop her and motion for her to wait. Pressing down on the spider emblem embedded on his chest, the suit loosened from its skintight embrace. He pulled at the sleeves slowly with his condition until only his torso was visible.

Part of Michelle had wanted to gawk at his sculpted muscles, but guilt and instinctive care consumed her; and all she'd want to do was tend to him and his wound.