A Web Strand Away

Chapter 3: Indirect Meeting

Y/n had pondered about telling him the truth, but always decided against it. He did know why but didn't want Miles to worry about it; nor anyone that would make a big fuss. Long story short, he has some control over how fast he heals and where it's most needed.

In spite of that, Y/n purposely slows them down, either by focusing on slowing the injuries or putting his body through the ringer. He thinks of it as punishment for his failures, to make it fair for those that he couldn't save. It wasn't fair that they died, and he lived... they could've done something great- something greater than he could do.

However, their lives were cut short before those great things could occur. Spider-Man should have saved them, he could have saved them, he could have done more.

But it seems that no matter how hard he tries, he will fail to save someone... Someone had to pay the price for him being the hero, for trying to do good.

Y/n unconsciously rubs the three long scars on his chest, scratches from the Lizard when it rampaged across the streets. One claw thankfully missed, but that didn't save him from a night of sowing the damage back together. Pivoting to his side, he sees another scar left from Doc Ock when he took a hit for a civilian caught in the crossfire; Metal arms do a lot of more damage than people think.

He turns to look at his shoulder blade, a puncture mark from when Scorpion injected him with his venom. The maniac intended to pump the toxic liquid into Jameson, as a thank you for funding the damn project. Others were from bullet grazes, knifes slashes, and other things a normal teen wouldn't experience.

The H/c teen sighs, "What a life you live Y/n" he murmurs as he rubs his eyes. He grabs another shirt and walks out the bathroom, heading to the garage where his gear was stored. Pulling out a chair and an unfinished device, he decides to occupy his mind. The stained and faded brown table creaked as he places piece after piece of equipment, the air turned cold as Y/n sat alone... Mindlessly working on making a new gadget.

[In the morning]

Birds chirped as the cricket's went quiet, rays of light went through the small windows of the garage and reflected off a dirty magnifying lamp. Y/n was asleep with his head on his crossed arms... a mouth-drooling smell of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns hit Y/n's nostrils, stirring him awake.

"My back... Augh, my back" he groaned as his drooping eyes struggled to stay open. He quickly reached for a cup of coffee he made last night and sips, only for nothing to touch his lips. Only the scent hitting his nose. "Greeaaat" He whispers and stood, "Need another re-fill."

Y/n opens the door to the kitchen with a yawn, spotting May cooking breakfast, a full mug of coffee next to the kitchen sink, and a plate of the delicious breakfast on the table. Putting the empty cup in the sink, he nabs the full mug and drinks, the warm caffeine-filled liquid burns his throat.

That's one way to wake you up. Dumb but effective.

If that doesn't sum up more than half of Y/n's plans of attack, then nothing else could. Hell, he relies on sheer dumb luck half of those times too. He quietly greets May before chugging down more coffee.

Y/n sets the mug down and goes upstairs to wake up Violet, he opens the door and walks in. Sitting down on the side of the bed, Y/n looks at the sleeping girl. He's glad that she's sleeping more often. The bags under her own eyes have faded, and her hair has gotten full over the time they've spent together.