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"𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏, 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄. 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏. 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄..."
You muttered under your breath over and over again, praying that he'd somehow hear your pleas from across the city. When the line went dead on the other end, you declined the call with a pained sigh.
When you'd first started seeing Hobie, you'd been forewarned by himself and some of his friends of his tendencies. habits
But you never thought much of it. So what if he ghosted everyone a bit? Sometimes, the world got too much for you too. So what if he disappeared without any word? He liked his personal space. So what if he would randomly show up bruised from head to toe? Those protests and rallies weren't exactly sociable.
You didn't think it would come and bite you in the ass one day. Not once.
But then you had a breakdown one night. Tonight
And you'd wanted nothing more than his comforting embrace wrapping you up, his deep soothing voice calming your nerves. The one that chased away the negativity eating at your mind.
But Hobie was long gone, nowhere to be seen.
And now here you were, bleeding out on your carpet as you pressed your bloody palm against the bullet shot in your abdomen, dialing Hobie's number once again.
You and Hobie were engrossed in a hot argument, both of you unwilling to back down.
"I don't see why this is a problem!" Hobie raised his voice at you, "You've always taken it like a champ. Sounds like you're just jealous all of a sudden,"
"I'm not jealous," you lied through your teeth, "And this is not the first time this is happening. I'm just tired of the fact that you forget all about me when there's another woman and just leave me there. Like you forget my existence altogether,"
You and Hobie decided to hit the bar down the street to cool off a bit when a woman began to hit on him, saying that she was a friend of one of his bandmates, and began to get handsy. Hobie didn't stop her, instead, played along, enjoying the attention he got.
You glared so hard at the drink in your hand that it was a miracle it didn't explode.
Sure, you and Hobie were inseparable, but as time passed and feelings sprouted things began to change.
When you and Hobie decided on a friends-with-benefits tie, given how much tension was seeping whenever you both were in the same room, you had been willing to put up with it. To hide your rising feelings for the Spider-Punk.
No labels? Sure, no problem. You understood, that they were distressing and made you obligated to the other person. You pretty much shared similar views when it came to commitment. Your trust issues never let you open your heart to anyone.
But when everything started to have an impact on you, your well-being, and your mental health, that was where you drew the line. When you decided you wouldn't put up with it any longer. You'd come too far to let yourself be ruined by anybody, even if that person was Hobie Brown. You'd been through a lot as a child and prioritized yourself to be destroyed by anyone.
And that was when you knew it had to end. Whatever it had been.
"It was nothin', c'mon love," He leaned forward to kiss you but you turned your head to the side, making his lips meet your cheek instead. He felt his heart tug sharply.
"No," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear, "This is driving me crazy,"
Last week, Hobie had begged you to attend one of his concerts, and you did, but he was nowhere to be found. You spent the evening on your own, alone. All you received from him was a text saying that something showed up and he'd make it up to you when he got back.
Even when he'd shown up at your doorstep and didn't give you time to greet him or question about his disappearance, he was on you, ripping the clothes off of you and pulling your naked body flush over his, hands roaming your body as he made you come undone again and again. You didn't even question it. Glad that he was by your side once again.
You rubbed your temples, trying to keep your emotions together, "I cannot take this anymore,"
You'd never seen that look on his face before. He looked like he was about to be sick. He ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply, sitting back down, "I thought our arrangement was clear. We sealed our deal promising 'no strings attached' and no emotional bonding,"
You stared up at him, mouth agape, "That doesn't mean you should or can ignore me. We're still friends, right?" you got to your feet, striding in front of him, "That doesn't mean you can come and go as you please. You can't treat me like a toy and then toss me away!" you scoffed defiantly.
Hobie shot up to his feet, wobbling from the injury and you caught him in reflex, grasping him by his arms. He took his chance to hold your face between his palms, "Of course, we're friends, love," he frowned in confusion, "You knew the ladies threw themselves at me. You always took it like a champ. But, why's it botherin' you all of a sudden?"
Cold sweat sprung out of your skin, and you felt as though someone had popped the cork off to free your bottled true feelings.
What he said was true.
To be frank, you had fallen for him the day you laid eyes on him. How could you not? You didn't just fall for him, you face-planted on the ground. Hard.
When he flirted with you and called you sweet nothings, a hope of being loved back blossomed in your heart. But it was immediately smothered when he expressed his views about relationships and suggested that you both would be 'amazing' friends with benefits.
So you accepted it, whatever he had to offer. Even the worst of him was good enough for you, but none of you was enough for him.
You had somehow managed to snuff out the part of your heart that ached for his love, but now seeing how he treated you, you were second-guessing the whole deal.
The watch on his wrist buzzed and he pulled back from you immediately, slapping his free hand over it.
Your face dropped and you screwed your eyes shut in resignation. This was what happened every single time.
"I have to go," Hobie turned around, grabbing his Spider-suit and pulling it over himself, not bothering to spare you a glance, "Don't have time for this nonsense,"
That was the last time you saw Hobie Brown. And that had been three days ago.
And now here you were, bleeding out on your carpet, the red stain spreading around you as you slumped on the floor against the wall.
Shots of agony climbed up your side, throbbing, and you felt as though the bullet nudged a little further into your flesh.
The door of your apartment swung open and a small, old woman in her late sixties stepped in, gasping at the sight of you bleeding into the floor, "Good lord!"
"Hello, Mrs. Chen," you gave the woman a wave with your bloodied hand. She hurried over with her medical kit, rushing to tend to the wound.
When Hobie hadn't picked up any of your calls, you decided to call Mrs. Chen, the woman who owned a convenience store below your flat.
"What the hell happened to you?" Mrs. Chen questioned, opening her kit and pulling out a disinfectant liquid.
"Protest rally gone wrong," you grunted in pain as she removed your hand and took a look at the wound, "I was followed by some big bad guys. Didn't wanna risk it by going to the hospital,"
"Seems like you took a pretty bad hit," the woman grimaced, "Where's your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend when you're bleeding to your death?"
"I-I don't know," you stammered, cowering away in shame.
Mrs. Chen always addressed him as your boyfriend, given the amount of time he spent at your place. Hobie never bothered to correct her, enjoying the way you got flustered.
Mrs. Chen gave you a sympathetic look, "Did you go snooping around some creepy government facility again?"
"I did not," you glared at her childishly, "I got attacked by some people. Like," you frowned, trying to recall the event, "All I remember is that a big van appeared in the protest area and people were being shoved into it. I think they were kidnapping. And they were also smuggling something in it. Not sure. But something burst from the trunk of the van,"
"A bomb?"
"No. More like a creature. I think it escaped into the crowd," you thought out loud.
"There have been people going missing, you know," Mrs. Chen pulled out the bullet from your wound with a set of tongs. You exhaled sharply in pain.
It was true. There had been an increase in missing people cases lately and there was no proper explanation for it. Some said it was a deadly disease because the victims were found dead with organ failure. Some said it was the work of a serial killer. But neither of them seemed like a conceivable explanation to you.
"There you are sweetheart," Mrs. Chen finished wrapping the gauze around your hip.
"Thanks again, Mrs. Chen," you held her hand when she offered it and used it to pull yourself up to your feet.
"No problem, honey,"
While you were drowning in your misery, a tiny black goop of symbiote transferred from the window pane above to your shoulder, dropping onto your jacket and sinking into the skin of your collarbone.
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