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Chapter Text

The Amazing Malipo! Can we really trust him? 
The majority of Natlanese folk now relies on the mysterious, quiet, and self-sacrificing hero, who goes by the name “Malipo”.
At first, not many trusted him - after all, the idea of a man hiding his identity
behind a mask and shooting green webs around - quite unbelievable, isn't it?
However, these days, most already adore him.
It's been a year since he first appeared, but the question remains - Who is he and what are his real motives? 

Tch, this was the third one this week. The newspaper was simply trying to gain more money by constantly pasting that name on the front page. 

Malipo.

Personally, Kinich didn't see why people perceived the poor guy like that. Surely, he wouldn't like it (Kinich would know). 

However, he was apparently the absolute centre of Ifa’s world. Not in the fangirl way, but in the Ifa-obsessed way. Which would translate to: absolute madness.  

Don't interpret it in the wrong way now - Kinich loved Ifa, they were friends since… always, Archons, but… 

“I wonder how it works. I mean, do you think he has special veins that shoot out green webs? I mean, ahem, I was watching some video records closely yesterday, and he clearly shoots them out of his wrists, right? That being said…” 

“I'm sure he has some kind of device for it, Ifa,” Kinich cut him off in his usual cold, calm, and composed fashion, leaving the taller male to sigh. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

Kinich simply ignored Ifa’s gray eyes staring at him to prompt an answer, focusing his attention on the hallway instead. He could hear all the signs - the high-pitched chuckles, the loud gum-chewing, the jingling… 

There she was.

The center of his world - that's what he would call her if he were in a romantic superhero movie.

However, whether fortunate or not, Kinich’s life was far from that. Sure, he had a really tight suit (that he actually regretted making that tight - hence why he started to wear special large pants with it) under his normal clothes and a mask in his deep pocket. And although yes, he has been in situations that could be described as dramatic enough to fit into action movies - that was all Malipo.

And Kinich was just Kinich. 

To Mualani, at least. Truth be told, he didn't want to be required to be a superhero just to make her spare him more attention. To be precise, the amount he had gotten when they were little children would suffice. 

Now she was right at the other side of the corridor. Ifa kept talking, but Kinich’s attention was unintentionally locked on the pretty girl trailing after a group of other girls, the girls who were nothing like her. She had nothing in common with the loud, arrogant girls. In their pink world, she was blue. And yet, whenever Kinich would catch a glimpse of her, it would be with them. 

Mualani looked at him and put one of the blindingly bright grins on her face, greeting him with a simple wave of her hand. 

Well. It was better than nothing. Kinich nodded to her in response, as if the little something she managed to wake up long ago didn't cheer. 

“Ew, stop it!” Ifa elbowed his arm, and Kinich rolled his eyes with a sigh, keeping up his typical behavior. “Ah, so you can gush about Malipo, but you won't even let me greet a friend?” 

“Yeah, but Malipo is not a girl I've been in love with for years !” Ifa shot back. It was Kinich's turn to smack his arm this time.

“Keep your voice down, will you?” he mumbled, glancing away from the bubbly girl. That was enough staring for today. Instead, he focused his gaze on the newspaper he still held in his hands. The one with him on the front page every other day. Yeah, now that Kinich thought about it, it was all so… over exaggerated. 

“Malipo rushed in and snatched the poor girl right out of the villain's hands! According to her own words, we exclusively bring to you, “It was like a dream.. one second, I'm tied to a bridge, the next I'm in his arms! I had never noticed before that… his arms are truly amazing. He is amazing!”

Unbelievable. What nonsense. They definitely didn't have to add that last bit, too. He tossed the useless paper into the closest bin, ignoring Ifa's protesting whine. Well, wasn't really a whine, but it was the closest to a whine a guy like Ifa could get. That's what being a broke student does to you. However, Kinich couldn't see how Ifa's poor choices (buying such an idiotic newspaper as that ) were his problem. 

“I gotta go, Ifa,” Kinich said after Mualani and her odd friends left. His brain was kind enough to remind him that an exchange student was waiting for him by this time, probably. Kinich kind of hoped so; it would be a pain if he had to go through the trouble of chasing a lost student who couldn't follow instructions around. 

“Why?” His friend turned to him with that already familiar dumbfounded expression. 

“I was late yesterday. My punishment is giving a tour to some exchange student.” 

“Damn.” 

“Indeed.” 

The new student turned out to be a girl as bubbly as Mualani, which wasn't as great as it might sound; Kinich had hoped it would be an uninterested, bored teenager. Instead, they had to stop nearly every minute so Varesa could observe posters, awards, photos, and things Kinich himself hadn't even noticed before. 

Right, her name was Varesa. Quite common, but not half-bad. She was just a little shorter than him, dressed in cutesy pinkish clothes, and carrying a pink sports bag around. 

As many other pieces of information she chirped about as they walked, he had learned she was an aspiring runner; “I came here for these reasons: One, I have an important running competition coming up. Two, I want to use this trip to obtain new knowledge about different places. Three, I heard that Malipo is usually seen around these parts, meaning I get to snap amazing shots of him!” 

After questioning that one, he had also found out that Varesa was not only an enthusiast of Malipo (great, another one?), but working a part-time job as a photographer for some Collective of Plenty newspaper. He would bet that those people didn't force his name on the front page three times a week. He wouldn't give them much credit for that, however; as Varesa said herself, he was usually seen around The Scions of Canopy. Somehow, this place attracted all the bad guys with Alchemax and similar stuff around. He conveniently lived in the tribe as well. 

In conclusion, Varesa posed a partial annoyance to him, due to her being an enthusiastic photographer with the ability to run fast and possibly chase him around while he had his hands full of other problems. That aside, she also looked like a decent human being, so he doubted she would give him a headache too big. 

He took her through the halls and showed her the canteen, library, gym, restrooms, and even went as far as leading her to the classroom she was assigned. 

“Thanks so much, Kinich! You're a really nice guy! Do you do sports?” She asked just before he got the chance to leave. 

“Uh. Not particularly…” he answered, trailing off as she energetically continued with a chuckle.

“Oop, sorry! I just thought… You know, because of your arms?” 

His arms were getting really uncomfortable, thank you very much. They were average-sized, what was everyone's problem? “Genetics.” 

“A lucky one, ha? I see how it is! Well, I should get going! Thanks a lot!” It was truly interesting how animatedly Varesa moved. Her cartoony movements were highlighted even more by the way her long hair, tied into two pigtails, bounced behind her and the black skirt, which ruffled at every small movement. 

Kinich nodded. It might have been his most used reaction to literally everything, but it did the job. “No problem.” 

Varesa nodded back, with much more enthusiasm. “Bye-bye, Kinich!” 

She turned around and skipped to the class door. Kinich watched as she opened it, leaning forward to glance into it and make her presence known. She rubbed the back of her head, and Kinich turned around, even though the skirt didn't lift enough to reveal much. He considered himself a decent man, unlike the majority of his classmates who would look. 

Not like he had any reason to stay there any longer.

Three classes left. Then he was free. Partially, anyway. 

The tall, masked man stepped forward. The three Children of his looked down, showing their respect - as they should. “The Creator is ready for its initial run, sir,” one of them said after a minute of silence. Alongside the respect, there was an undertone of fear in her voice. She was always one of the weaker ones, the man thought. She hardly deserved the better future they were all doing their best to achieve. 

“Fine. Start the Creation.” 

He could feel the two scientists who were not of his kind glancing at him - the familiar tinge of shock teased his nape. “What's the issue?” 

“Are you sure you don't want to run any tests first, sir?” The younger male asked. The man looked at him. Of course, the scientist couldn't see his tortured eyes, but the man made sure he could feel them on his body. Although he was tall, he was scrawny. The man could see the shiver that ran down his spine when he trembled under his gaze, but he didn't go back on his word, only adjusted his glasses. A clear sign of nervousness. How interesting. 

“Start the Creation. That will be our test.” 

Both the male and female scientist turned to work, pressing all kinds of buttons and typing their fingers away on those futuristic-looking keyboards. The man never understood the appeal. Why bother with special equipment that only caught unwanted gazes?

The thought was quickly abandoned when the Creator came to life. It was as if the man's entire life was flashing behind his eyes. All the torture, the pain, the suffering… It wasn't in vain. 

The metallic bottom started rotating faster and faster, the three arms around it doing the same in the opposite direction. The scientists started talking to each other, but their professional words blended into each other as the light show began unfolding, trapping the masked man's eyes. Flashes of yellow, green, and purple blinded him - the colors created shapes that seemed material, flickering and flowing together in a chaotic harmony, which created a surreal, floating ball with spikes in the middle. 

For a second, all of the noise and flashing stopped, only to… explode a second after. The man instinctively closed his eyes, not being able to avoid the blinding white light behind his eyelids either way. After a beat, it was all dark again, and so he dared to open them again. The scientists were already talking in a hushed tone, the woman writing down notes into her notebook at record speed. 

Once again, all of the man's attention was focused on the little part of the dream he and his children shared that had just come true. A smaller, calmer version of the colorful ball with spikes peeking out here and there was floating just above the metallic platform, which reflected its wonderful light in a truly mesmerizing way.

The man turned to the scientists. “Results?” The female was the one who stepped out this time. “Unfortunately, it doesn't look like we succeeded in our main goal. However, this looks like a Creation! We're definitely on the right path. Just give us some time. We will now begin the research and find out how to get closer to achieving our ultimate goal, sir.” 

The man nodded. He was a bit disappointed, but the feeling of pride and fulfillment overshadowed that. A Creation. They were on the right path, indeed. He smiled under his mask. 

Everything went according to plan. Soon, the perfect future would be achieved, and he would be the one behind it all, the one the Children chose. 

There weren't many things Kinich hated. He despised gambling, wearing long-sleeved shirts, his school uniform, the scent of Mualani’s friend, things that were too sweet, and alcohol. But there was one thing, one creature that would win the competition (if there was any). 

Ajaw. 

“Damn it, Kinich, your handwriting is absolutely terrible! You should just let the Almighty K’uhul Ajaw take over your body already! Even that stupid girl you pine after your whole life would be yours, haha!” That disastrous being started laughing in the usual high-pitched fashion. Amazing. 

“She is not stupid. And shut up, will you? I'm trying to do my homework.” Kinich retorted, attempting to remain calm. He was always told his voice sounded monotone and calming all the time, but ever since he got the little gift from the universe in the form of the so-called Lord of Spiders, there was a new edge to his voice whenever he spoke to the little pixelated being. 

Had he known this torture would come after being bitten by that spider, he would have never gone to that subway that day. 

It was all pretty calm at first - Kinich had to figure out why the hell it wouldn't stop sticking, but after some initial embarrassment, rather traumatizing events, and a couple of bruises, he figured out what he was meant to do. And so he did. He designed the now infamous black suit and later the oversized pants (for his own comfort). And then, he got the idea of the watch that could turn his normal webs into green, stronger, flickery webs. Well, not really a watch, more like a bracelet that looked like a watch at first sight, but anyway - the moment he had put it on his wrist, this thing appeared behind him and proclaimed that “it took him long enough to build it ”.

Ajaw never explained himself, not really, but since then, he would not get a break from the constant “ You should die already!” and “I'm the Lord of Spiders and you're just a commoner!” and “What the hell are you doing? You aren't winning this one, haha!” every damned second he was alone. Or in the middle of the fight, because Ajaw presumably assumed nobody would pay attention to him then. 

Kinich didn't believe that greenish couple of pixels connected to look like a spider at first. Who would believe that crap, anyway? But after proving the creature’s powers a couple of times, he figured that it might be true, which was even crazier. Because if he were to die now, Ajaw would take over his body and do who knows what. 

Kinich sighed, interrupting the spider’s self-praising monologue. “I will lock you up if you don't stop this instant. I still have a load of homework to-” 

“All units, we have an anomaly in the City of the Scions of Canopy, Quenepa Street. Abandoned factory building. Looks dangerous. Be careful, it looks like a villain that we haven't encountered before.” 

Ah. Guess not. 

“Haha, homework? I can't believe the spider bit you, a nerdy teenager who has a load of homework to do and no girls that want to-”

“Aren't you the spider?” Kinich snapped, ventilating his annoyance out through the really aggressive rise to his feet, leaving the open notebook on the desk. He quickly took an unsuspicious-looking shoe box from his shelf, putting the pants hidden inside on at a rapid speed. The fabric felt familiar as he slipped into it, as well as the texture of the mask that always took a little getting used to whenever he would put it on. 

He leaped out of the window, letting the wind welcome him like an old friend as he flew through the city. He could feel the eyes on him as he swung from one street to another. He didn't have to hear the whispers to know that they were exchanged. Cheers reached his ears as usual, and perhaps, some would think that was the biggest encouragement of all, the drop of courage and support he needed. And truth be told, Kinich did appreciate the kindness of the people, their way of love. But what he really loved about flying through the city fast enough for that little devil to be unable to catch up was the relentless feeling of adrenaline creeping into his veins and filling his chest. 

It was silly, but maybe Kinich was always meant to be Malipo. Even before the encounter with that spider, he had always craved that feeling of the edge between success and irreversible failure. The thrill of leaping from a building and falling, only to secure himself with a fast swing at the last second, handling his own life in his own hands. 

And even aside from that, he didn't have much to lose. Maybe that and the silent flame burning in his chest made him the perfect one to make sacrifices every other day. 

And so, he got lost in the feeling for a little while, enjoying the little venture to the abandoned building in the middle of the Quenepa street, unaware of the truly fast pink-haired photographer trailing behind him. 

Fortunately for Kinich, the ‘abandoned building’ the police dispatcher mentioned was quite easily recognizable. Unfortunately for Kinich, it was due to the absolute mess of a lightshow; rays of green, pink, blue and yellow were pouring out of all the holes and old windows that were all over it. 

He smoothly bounced off a wall and secured a web on the top of the closest building, slowing down and descending with the precision he mastered over the two years. Strange sounds were coming out of that half-collapsed factory and Kinich could only assume that this was going to be one of those issues. Great. His mind already started coming up with an excuse that would be believable enough, preferably a one his math teacher hasn't heard before. 

As light as a feather, he landed on the broken windowsill, peeking inside. There wasn't much to see, really.. Until there was. The odd lights stopped all of a sudden, and Kinich was definitely anticipating some kind of bigger explosion, except it never came. Cautiously, he moved inside, swiftly jumping down to one of the many metal containers stacked in the empty space. There wasn't much else, really.

Aside from the big spiky light ball of who knows what floating above a metallic platform elegantly, as if it wasn't the thing that caused the entire building to turn into the biggest source of light in a minimum of a 3-mile radius for a second. It looked pretty harmless, but Kinich knew it wasn't. Just the way the colors looked almost… material (they were, weren't they?), and how they were shaping into different spikes and curves here and there, each and every thing was telling him that whatever this was, it was everything but harmless. 

Back to the matter at hand, there was no one to be seen. Who was behind this, why, how and..

Kinich barely had the three seconds to look around and take in his surroundings before his time ran out. The only thing he saw before he got lifted into the air was a blurry smudge of red, grown and grey. 

Here we go again. 

Well, at least he could see his sudden opponent clearly. The thing had wings, which wasn't ideal, but he dealt with worse. There was also a beak which appeared as melted into the spot where there used to be a nose - further distorting the already scarred and inhuman face. Completing all of this were claws that Kinich couldn't see, but the sharp pain pulsing through both of his shoulders told him enough. 

They were spiralling through the air at chaotic, uncontrollable speed. What was this guy's deal, honestly? 

Kinich’s head was starting to spin, a telltale sign that it was time to start fighting back. He willed his fingers into a familiar gesture, shooting a web that successfully caught on one of the pillars holding the roof, which was broken anyway. The bird apparently didn't expect the resistance, getting pulled back almost conically easily. What was a problem, though, was that he would not let Kinich go. And so, he pulled at the webs, holding the creature in place. The thing's wings were unfairly strong - at this rate, the strings would snap. 

But perhaps that was what Kinich needed. 

He pulled harder and the bird responded by waving its wings more aggressively. Kinich could feel the webs loosening slowly. 

One, two, three, four, five seconds of having to breathe in that awful air coming out of the beak and the force suddenly snapped. His enemy was surprised at this, just as Kinich had hoped it would be. It allowed him to slip out of its grasp and because he had anticipated it, catching himself mid air thanks to all the edges of many things around him wasn't difficult. 

However, there was another problem shaping in the form of a face that he was familiar with by now. As he was passing the place where a proper door was (or used to be), two pink pigtails caught his attention. 

Varesa was over there, awkwardly hidden behind a couple of crates, taking photos of him like she wasn't in grave danger. 

Okay, maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe she was one of them troublemakers. 

Unfortunately, the creature noticed her as well and there was nothing Kinich could do about it as it made her its next victim, grabbing her into its sharp claws. The girl let out a terrified, sharp yelp. The hero immediately changed directions, silently thanking his far from perfect family for the naturally strong legs he had inherited as he bounced off the containers, all while guided only by the abstract ball in the middle of the building.

The wings, that was its only advantage, Kinich assumed. Chasing it around this way would be pointless. He had to find a way to trap it. 

All of a sudden, just as Kinich was about to swing over to the top of the building to take a proper look around, Varesa screamed for help as she was thrown into the air, and the creature made a terrifyingly human sound.

Barely being fast enough to catch it, a green bolt of light sliced through the flesh of its right wing, effectively cutting it. 

At the same time, the spiky, colorful ball flickered before rotating rapidly and getting smaller.

As both the bird and Varesa started falling down, Kinich wasted no time getting to them, turning his gaze away from the disappearing phenomenon. He had no intention of helping the ugly thing in any way, but he couldn't possibly let the photographer fall to her possible death. He latched his web onto the roof and effortlessly caught her mid-air, then placed her down on the ground close to the place where the ball had been before, all in one swing, which ended as he landed on the biggest container of them all. 

There was one more figure shaping in front of him. His spider-sense, as Ajaw liked to call it, tingled but not in the usual way. It was as if he were feverish, with his head heavy and aching. It made his eyes narrow and eyebrows furrow, something whispering We are the same. 

In front of him, there was a taller, much more muscular person standing on the container. Something shifted in Kinich's gut as he noticed the suit that was so similar yet so different compared to his. Although they were both black, this one had a dark green spider decorated by a green flickering gem in the middle covering the chest, its legs stretching into a pattern which Kinich's didn't have - a texture more detailed and shinier than his. There was a cloth matching the color scheme wrapped around his hips. Green, sheer, and extremely sharp-looking blades were attached to the edge of the man's arms from his elbow to his wrist. An unmistakable mask (with the addition of something that looked like headphones attached to it) safely hid his identity, although Kinich could feel the burning gaze on his body as he looked back into the white eyes of the suit. 

We are the same. 

This man was like him. 

(Which made, precisely, zero sense, hello?) 

Kinich unknowingly held his breath when the man reached up and pulled his mask off, revealing silver hair and a handsome, toned face with the most unique eyes he had ever seen - turquoise with a bold drop of red dominating it. 

“Who are you?”

Chapter Text

Alhaitham was Spider-Man. 

Alright, that was out of the way now. He had assumed it was appropriate to mention that first, because that was, like, his thing. That’s what everyone saw him for. Except for one person, that is. One wonderful person, who managed to break down his walls and turn his perfect, peaceful life upside down. Quite literally, but let’s save that for later.

So yes, even though his life was mostly peaceful and calm (aside from some rebellious scholars here and there), there was a constant anomaly, an annoyance always present next to his ear. Unfortunately for Alhaitham, his entire heart was beating for this annoyance and ached whenever it couldn’t sense its other half tucked in the perfect body of the loud man. 

It was always like that, really. Ever since Kaveh sat down next to him in their shared class. Since then, most things, if not all, have changed - but Alhaitham’s blood still pumped in the rhythm of the name that fell so easily from his lips. Ka-veh. The man who taught him love, a different kind from what his grandmother showed him.

Even after getting bitten by the spider, Alhaitham never thought he’d be the kind of hero to get the pretty damsel in distress and all the praise, recognition, fame.. Truthfully, he had no real interest in that. He considered himself different from all those cliche superheroes from cheesy comics. Maybe that’s why he somehow got the whole Daily Bugle to profit off misinformation about him. Good for them, honestly.  

And he never got a damsel in distress, either.

…Actually, some might have been sent his way. 

But he had no desire to save all the pretty girls and make them fall in love with him. No, because his heart belonged to one person only, and he was glad he could see it now. He was... thankful for his acceptance.

You see, it wasn’t always like that.

Kaveh was like a fire. Passionate, bright, wild, and untamable. And Alhaitham… He had this natural skill to make it burn brighter. Maybe that was what made Kaveh sit next to him that day. Unfortunately, flames consumed things, and Kaveh’s fire consumed all of Alhaitham. 

Ever since his grandmother died, he had been aloof, cold, and rational. Emotions didn’t matter. He barely paid any attention to them, numbing them. But then, his whole world had been flipped over completely as a challenge appeared. One he couldn’t possibly turn down. 

Their ideals would constantly clash, but somehow the odd rivalry (that would later turn into a friendship that Alhaitham never thought he would have) worked. 

They weren't perfect, though. They never were and never would be. Both of them carried their own burdens; Kaveh’s could easily be represented as thin vines wrapped around his heart, with sharp thorns that stabbed him with his every breath, every thought, every move. Alhaitham had thicker ones, meant to protect. Block. 

Those didn't quite match. 

And yet, at times, it felt like… the softness behind the calloused hands of the aspiring architect was the only thing meant to touch Alhaitham. 

Alhaitham forgot his binder in the lab once. When he came to retrieve it, he found Kaveh asleep on one of the desks. There had been papers everywhere, Alhaitham remembered it clearly. The thing is, if he went by his default rules, he would just ignore him, retrieve his things, and leave. However, he didn’t do that. Instead, he added to his trouble without much thinking. He collected all of Kaveh’s research, put it alongside his own into his binder, tucked the said binder under his arm, and scooped Kaveh up into his hands. 

That was the first time he was physically close to Kaveh, close enough for it to matter. It was a real annoyance, dragging the older man up the stairs with the binder that was now two times thicker stabbing his armpit. But Alhaitham did it anyway. At the time, he told himself it was so that Kaveh wouldn’t bother him with his “my back hurts so bad” complaints. 

When he had placed Kaveh on his bed, something happened. There was a hand wrapped around his wrist and a silent plea hanging in the air. 

“Stay.” 

Kaveh wanted him to stay, because he was half-asleep and not thinking clearly, but maybe it was also because of his nightmares that only Alhaitham knew about. Perhaps he trusted the other enough to believe that he could chase them away.

And for whatever reason, Alhaitham had stayed. He properly tucked Kaveh into the bed, and against his better judgement, he sat there with the distressed man, holding his hand for so long that he was the one with the sore back the next time. 

They never spoke of that. They never do. 

Then, the spider bit him. 

Sometimes, he wondered what life would be like if he hadn't come to that exhibit. Some odd scholar from his class was obsessed with spiders and asked Alhaitham to come and give his opinion. As strange as that was, he figured ‘it's free knowledge, basically’. He had a lot of time on his hands, so he came. 

The second that the mutated creature bit his hand, his body wasn't the only thing that changed. His whole life was turned upside down once again. 

Of course, Alhaitham had promptly ignored the sudden abilities. He had ignored them until he couldn't. 

After an incident that was entirely his fault, lots of innocent people lost their lives and while the Alhaitham from the past would think it was simply an unfortunate tragedy, this Alhaitham, the one bitten by a radioactive spider, he felt this… guilt (which was not usual at all) and responsibility that he couldn't explain, nor put any reason behind. 

He made a suit. He figured it would be for the best, if people didn't know his true identity. Kaveh told him green looked good on him once - and so he stuck with that. It took a lot of time, but after researching all the methods through multiple books, he created something wearable, practical and quite easy on the eyes, while managing to implement his headphones (which was not necessary, but a nice bonus nonetheless). 

It was all going great at first. The job was easy. Then, Azar appeared. 

A mad scientist, or perhaps an idealist whose ideas weren't made for their world, they said. 

Well, he created a huge mess. But it was fine, Spider-Man always gets up. He got beaten up so many times it hurt and it hurt a lot, but he always picked himself up from the ground, took his time to come up with a new plan, defeat the foe, Spider-Man always won. 

“He is our hero. We trust him with our lives.”

“Spider-Man always wins.” 

“We love Spider-Man.” 

Azar was, most importantly, a monster. He wasn't born as one, no, but he became a monster and that became an issue. And after everything went to hell, Alhaitham saw little kids talking in the streets, looking up to Spider-Man. He heard the calls, read the articles, saw the posters and the grafitti. 

He started doing it for the people, then. 

It was silly, not like him at all. He had never cared for others too much. It was too bothersome, getting in the way. 

He called it the Kaveh effect and moved on. Partially because Kaveh softened him (he might deny a lot of things, but something like this was, unfortunately, undeniable - even for him. He wouldn't say it to Kaveh, however). Maybe the fact that Kaveh got taken by Azar helped, too. Because then, for the first time since starting the Spider-Man career, Alhaitham saw pain, saw what he couldn't stop, and felt it. 

He didn't want anyone to feel that. 

So he stood up, bloody and beaten - and kicked Azar’s butt. 

It only got worse from there - but it was okay. 

Because Kaveh was there. Not in the way Alhaitham wanted him to - he couldn't hold his hand. He couldn't reach out and brush away the maddening loose strand of hair that always fell into his face when he was working. He couldn't just come home to him, let himself get lost in the faint scent of roses, sandalwood, and old paper while the pretty (because everything about Kaveh was pretty) arms hiding undeniable strength wrapped around him. He couldn't have that. 

Actually, scratch that. He could. He could, if he were selfish. 

Because Kaveh felt the pull, too. Alhaitham knew, he knew, and it made his chest ache in the way he didn't think it ever would because of another person. He knew, because of the quiet nights they spent together. 

He had to break his heart, he had to let him go for him to be safe. He had to leave a scar just so it could leave and be a constant reminder to stay away. No matter how much Alhaitham had wanted Kaveh to be right by his side. 

One of those nights, he did that. He had also learned that breaking somebody's heart can shatter your own, too. 

It was a pretty night. Kaveh was pretty, too, but that wasn't anything new. Alhaitham sat on a small divan in the cramped living room of his rented apartment. He didn't have much money, so it wasn't much. Kaveh would always scold him that the furniture had potential, if he only wanted it to look good instead of having it scattered around chaotically - side note: it was never chaotic. Kaveh was the real chaos all along. 

Kaveh sat next to him and smiled at him. “You bought a new light?” 

Yes, because you said the previous one hurt your eyes. 

“Yeah. The last one broke.” 

Kaveh hummed. They sat in silence. It was nice. Alhaitham's nose was full of Kaveh, his arm warmed by the blonde’s fuzzy sweater. He adored wearing those in winter - his mother always wears them, he said. 

After a few minutes, Kaveh spoke up. “Where would you wanna be in ten years, Haitham?” 

In your arms. In my perfect reality, we're ten years away from dancing in our little cozy kitchen that you designed specifically so I can focus on cooking without distractions.

“I don't know,” he said. Regret wasn't a strong enough word for what he felt whenever remembering the moment. “You?” 

Kaveh chuckled. “I'd like… Maybe I'd like to settle somewhere, you know? Perhaps with someone I love. And I'd like to become a well-known architect. Get a stable job, lots of clients…” He sighed and, despite his tone getting sadder (because it was a dream and Kaveh didn't believe in himself enough to think it could ever come true), Alhaitham's heart swelled. It screamed, and he knew it was a mistake when he asked a question he should have never asked. 

“Is that so? Do you have anyone in mind? You haven't dated anyone in a while.” 

“I…” Kaveh sighed and looked away, which, ironically, prompted Alhaitham to look at him. He hadn't expected the older man not to dismiss him right then and there. 

As he felt the turquoise eyes on himself, Kaveh turned back to him, and suddenly their faces were much closer than either of them anticipated. Kaveh smiled slightly, and Alhaitham smiled back. That was a mistake, but how could he not? He was weak. Oh, Alhaitham was so weak when he felt a warm hand on his bicep, the calloused thumb rubbing the skin there. “I do, actually. They're… difficult, though.” 

Alhaitham couldn't help but smile a bit wider, despite the bad kind of warmth pooling in his stomach. 

You can't. 

Kaveh leaned closer. Alhaitham got overwhelmed by so many things, the addictive scent flooding his senses, the gentle touch on his arm, the warm breath hitting his lips, the vulnerable look in the eyes of the one he loved so much, he loved him so much and he couldn't have him, you can't have him, you can't have him, you can't. 

He wanted to cry. 

You can't. 

Alhaitham stayed glued in place as Kaveh leaned just a bit closer, their lips just inches apart. 

And then, when Kaveh’s eyes fluttered shut, he looked away and pulled back just slightly. Subtly, but enough for it to send a message he'd never send willingly. 

Kaveh was there, raw and exposed and vulnerable, and Alhaitham hit him where it hurt. 

You can't. 

His eyes immediately opened, and upon seeing the distance Alhaitham had put between them, he quickly staggered back, straightening. Alhaitham could see the fragile pieces of his heart that he gave him to take care of shattering , he could see it all in his eyes. 

He wanted to pull him into his arms and cry and tell him why but 

You can't. 

He imagined a limp, cold, bloody body and blonde hair spread around it. 

You can't. 

“I.. I-I’m sorry, I thought..” Kaveh shook his head frantically, already standing up. With every inch put between them, Alhaitham's heart broke too. He deserved that. But Kaveh, he didn't. Kaveh didn't deserve any of this. Kaveh deserved only the best. He deserved someone who knew how to reply to all of his rants without seeming rude; he deserved a person who would tell him all the things he needed to hear.

Alhaitham could never be that person. 

Kaveh sighed as he took his bag, the initial sadness replaced by… disappointment. And not an ounce of surprise. He thought he wasn't enough, he thought Alhaitham didn't love him when his heart had never beaten for someone the way it did for Kaveh, that he never would love him, despite Alhaitham’s entire existence wailing, begging for an apology, for a chance to take it all back. 

He left in a hurry, mumbling something Alhaitham didn't hear. 

The moment the broken door shut, Alhaitham buried his face in his hands and cried. For the first time since his grandmother's death, he cried. He cried like a child who didn't have anyone to turn to. In a way, he was just that. 

Alhaitham had cried while gasping for breath the whole night. It hurt as if a sharp blade stabbed his chest mercilessly; it hurt, it hurt so much, but he couldn't do anything. 

You can't. 

He could never have Kaveh. 

He knew that. 

Why did his heart refuse to let him go? 

The days after were… uneventful. 

Painful, but calm. 

Alhaitham didn't see Kaveh for two whole weeks.

Tighnari slapped him. 

He deserved it. 

Then, one night while on patrol (clearing his head, really), he stumbled into a drunken Kaveh. He dragged him back to his apartment (the rent was due, he noticed - Kaveh didn't look like he could pay anytime soon), all while still in his costume. He didn't speak, simply put Kaveh to bed. Like all those years ago. 

“Stay.” 

Alhaitham turned around. Spider-Man shouldn't be anything to Kaveh, he shouldn't be someone the man would ask to stay. Maybe he was just too drunk to actually realize this, Alhaitham figured, and so he stepped closer to the bed. 

“Hayi…?” 

Alhaitham's heart skipped a beat. How could he…? No. He's just drunk , it's.. 

“Can I see your face? I missed you.” He slurred his words, making them barely recognizable. 

He knew. 

Alhaitham sat on the edge of the old bed, looking over at Kaveh silently, waiting. Still a bit stunned, but curious. He also longed to see Kaveh's eyes once more, because that was not a luxury he had anymore. 

As if hearing that thought, Kaveh opened his beautiful eyes just slightly. Enough for Alhaitham to get blinded by the carmine irises, as he always had gotten. “Hayi… Why don't you love me?” He sniffled, and Alhaitham's heart broke a little again, tearing open the wound that still hadn't fully healed. 

The paler hand slipped into the darker one, hidden behind the stretchy fabric of the suit. The motion was slow, hesitant -  almost like a silent question.

Alhaitham looked at that and getting a glimpse of what he could've had wasn't what he needed in that moment at all. It made the bad feeling he had been pushing away for days come back and scratch the insides of his chest once more. With a hand that wasn’t stable at all, he reached up and pulled his mask off. Kaveh uplifted the corners of his mouth lazily, giving him that kind of smile that he wouldn’t like seeing in the mirror. “Handsome.” 

“This mask is the reason why I can't love you, Kaveh,” Alhaitham whispered into the hot air, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Kaveh’s forehead. He wasn’t thinking, didn’t want to - it was stolen and unfair, but it was the only thing he could have. 

Kaveh sniffled again, turning away to hide his face in the fluffy, cold pillow. “I love you.” 

Something clenched in Alhaitham's chest, his heart swelling painfully. 

He didn't say it back. 

He couldn’t, after all. 

Afterwards, things weren't the same. Alhaitham had no idea how much Kaveh remembered from that night, but something must've remained in his memory; Alhaitham had barely seen him since then. And when he did, it wasn't as himself, but rather as Spider-Man. 

He watched him from the tops of buildings and peeked from behind corners. It hurt a little (a lot, but it got better with time). Every time he caught a glimpse of those blonde locks the man had cut in the meantime, the sharp stick he left behind in Alhaitham's chest stabbed his heart right where it was raw and pulsing.

But he moved on. Just as Kaveh did. 

Kaveh enrolled in a good school, and Alhaitham… well, the nearest one. Honestly, the studies were a little too easy for him, but it was okay. 

It was all okay. 

Eventually, Kaveh disappeared - he didn't know where he went. He asked Cyno. Cyno said the blonde wanted to get out, nothing more. And so, Alhaitham turned to one thing that usually didn't betray him: routine. 

It went something like this: get up, brush teeth and face, coffee, eat, pack books, school, work, read, exercise, patrol, read, sleep. Repeat. 

That would be the main outline, but there were many side events such as: dull the sharp sounds with earphones that keep reminding you of him. Sit in silence and miss his fuzzy sweaters. Tidy up your apartment. Organize the furniture. Stare at the red scarf he forgot on the hanger and never came back to retrieve it (never touch it). Visit granny's grave. 

Fight like you're not scared of death, risk your life for others just to chase the thrill, forget, repeat, forget, forget, act like it doesn't bother you, dull the emotions, make others think you don't have them (that's what you do best), repeat it all. over. again. until

until years pass. 

And they did. 

The apartment was cold. He got a new one, a more expensive one, but it was cold anyway. Maybe it was the lack of anything at all, except for the necessary furniture. He sat on the bed with green sheets, the stretchy fabric of his green mask tickling his hands as he held it. He painted the walls in his kitchen green as well. Kaveh would complain about it. 

Alhaitham would give anything just to hear him complain again. 

He hadn't seen him in years. He could only imagine the success he must've achieved. Maybe they called him the Master Architect now, like he always silently wished. Most people down in Port Ormos already did. The bridge he helped build there was certainly a good reason. 

Alhaitham was surely nothing but a forgotten memory to him. He was glad. 

A sharp ringtone that hurt his ears like a well-mainted blade interrupted all of him pitiful thoughts. He looked up at the phone, but instead of picking it up, he reached for his earphones. They broke twice over the years, but he always managed to fix them himself. He put them over his ears and adjusted the setting so the sounds he had always found unnecessary blended together, creating a muffled bliss. 

A minute passed, then a voice Alhaitham sure hadn't heard in a while replaced the awful sound, catching his attention. 

“Hey, Alhaitham. Tighnari here. Uh… I know we haven't talked much after… Cyno's passing, but…” 

The message goes quiet for a moment, which is enough for the sharp nails of the heavy something residing within him to start pulling off the scab that the police captain left behind. Cyno was a good friend, and it hit him more than he thought it would. 

With a particularly deep scratch, the creature within reminded him of the words he would never forget, making him wince. 

“Take care of my Nari, Haitham.” 

Instead of doing that, Alhaitham couldn't bring himself to face the younger man, not after seeing him turn into a sad shell of what he used to be after hearing the news. 

Alhaitham always thought Tighnari and Cyno were simply meant to be. When Cyno passed away, it was like he took half of Tighnari’s heart with him as well. 

Neither of them deserved that. 

The soft voice continues after a small pause, filling his apartment again. “I'm kind of helping the police now. Doesn't sound like me, I know, but Cyno-” his voice softened even more , in a way that made it apparent he was holding back tears. 

“He was looking for… He wanted to find the little girl's killer, right? You remember it, don't you… They got a new lead, so.. I'm the forensic, but, uh. Point is, those policemen talk to me. And there have been sightings of a drunk, loud blonde man recently. He… He goes through the same streets nearly every evening. His description and what they told me- It sounds a lot like Kaveh. I just… since he's back, I'd like you to go and get him. Please? It's Lambad’s tavern, the one close to the small bookstore you like. I know you can hear me. Just.. don't let him go. Neither of you deserves that.” 

The message stopped there, ended with the words so similar to the ones he told himself in his head. The room was quiet again, and Alhaitham sat in silence that wasn't as delicious as he predicted it to be. He was met with heavy thoughts immediately settling in his mind instead. 

Kaveh. Kaveh was back. He was visiting the tavern every night. 

That couldn't be good.

Maybe it was the words from all those years, I love you, maybe it was the question that he kept going to, Where do you see yourself in ten years?, maybe it was Tighnari's request, Don't let him go , but it made Alhaitham stop playing with his mask and pull it over his head. 

He wouldn't let him go this time. 

He couldn't. 

(It might just kill him otherwise.) 

Chapter Text

“I'm telling you, your taste in furniture is terrible,” Kaveh kept muttering as he shuffled around his new room, slowly dismantling it all, just to rearrange it.

He sure made himself comfortable in Alhaitham's apartment quickly, especially after he was told that there was no need for rent.

Alhaitham didn't mind one bit.

He said nothing to the other's complaints, simply returning to his book. Because he left his earphones at his bedside table, however, he could still hear the nagging. It didn't bother him at all, which was to be expected. After all, his heart was stubborn enough to keep up the rhythm of its beat.

A few minutes passed in silence before “Oh wow,” spoken in a tone that was so uncharacteristic it made Alhaitham look up almost immediately.

There weren't many things Kaveh could find, except for..

Ah. Shoot. There was a small possibility Alhaitham could've left his mask on the counter the night before. What made Kaveh suddenly visit the kitchen was beyond him.

Kaveh was hesitantly holding it, looking at it like it had personally offended him. And perhaps it did, taking Alhaitham's seemingly odd reasoning from the past into account.

Ah, great. So there was no avoiding this conversation now. No more indulging in the peaceful bliss of ignorance. Alhaitham would mourn it forever; he had sworn as he got up and walked over to the unnecessarily dramatic Kaveh.

“You're holding it like it is biohazardous.”

“Maybe because it is.”

“You think it’s going to grow legs and bite you?”

Kaveh huffed. “Honestly, with your reputation? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

A pout followed. Alhaitham took the opportunity to snatch the mask from him. He turned to toss it somewhere else, but

“Wait.”

So he halted, waiting. “What now?”

“Why… I mean,” Kaveh trailed off, but Alhaitham knew what he wanted to ask. “Did you…”

“Isn't it obvious?” he interrupted, voice as flat as ever. Turning around, his eyes locked right into Kaveh’s carmine eyes. Kaveh's sharp, unapologetic, stunning eyes. And Alhaitham never considered himself cheesy.

The older man hesitated. He averted his gaze and then further highlighted his own conflicted feelings by biting his lip. “Was it just… some elaborate scheme to mock me? Because if so, congratulations, you’ve outdone yourself.” The words came out sharp, despite the little quiver in his eyes.

“Of course not. Don't be stupid. If I wanted to humiliate you like that, I’d just leave you there.”

Kaveh's lips parted, and even though Alhaitham knew he didn't take it to heart, he went with it anyway. “Oh, charming. Truly. You haven’t changed a bit.”

A small, momentary silence spread between them. After a minute, Alhaitham decided that his book was more interesting, so he turned around to exit the small room.

Kaveh chimed in again, just as Alhaitham's foot touched the last tile. “Do you have to keep running away?”

“What is it this time?”

Kaveh pouted yet again. “Don’t be an idiot. I was about to ask you why you didn’t just tell me back then.”

Back then - surely, that must stand for “when we were still kids and you ruined everything by being a secret superhero”. Alhaitham let out a soft sigh.

“It’s not exactly something you just say in the middle of a conversation. What are you envisioning?”

Kaveh scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The motion emphasized his waist— huggable, Alhaitham’s mind supplied unhelpfully. Ridiculous. He didn’t even like hugs. Why was he thinking that now?

“I don’t know, maybe even a ‘Hey, Kaveh, pass me the salt, oh, and also, I’m the guy in the ridiculously tight latex suit.’ would be better than nothing,” the blonde declared.

“It’s not made out of latex, obviously. You’re not stupid enough to believe that. And it’s not that tight.”…Annoyingly tight, yes. Enough to make him regret his own design choices, yes. But he wasn’t about to admit that aloud.

“That wasn’t even the point!”

Another silent moment. This time, Alhaitham waited. He was right to do so.

“You know, I didn’t say anything at first because… I thought maybe… if you told me, it would mean something. That maybe you still trusted me.” There it was. A little glimpse of the dark shadow looming over Kaveh’s heart ever since he heard the news from the desert. Alhaitham sometimes wondered if it was contagious; whenever that raw look flicked in Kaveh’s irises, his own chest felt sticky and tight all of a sudden. It was getting rather bothersome.

“It was never about trust, Kaveh,” he could only say. He let the unspoken stab his chest, accepting it rather than allowing it to turn into a double-edged sword.

“Well, you could’ve just told me. I figured it out anyway,” Kaveh grumbled and turned away from him to continue sorting out (throwing out) things in the small dresser. Alhaitham didn’t understand that man. One second, he bared his heart; the other, he attacked others as a strange way of chasing away the somber atmosphere he created himself.

“Do you want a cookie for it?” Alhaitham couldn’t help but poke again.

Kaveh scoffed in response. “You’re not needed anymore. How is it possible that you always disappear when people need you and then bother people when they don’t want to be near you? Besides, I deserve it for all the times I wasted time redesigning rooftops because you so necessarily had to criticize them,” he adopted a tone that did not sound like Alhaitham, “‘Kaveh, the roof angles are inefficient.” Well, excuse me, Spider-Man, I didn’t realize you preferred buildings you could swing off of. Should I install a trapeze next time?”

There it was again. A familiar fiery stick poked him back. As comforting as many would assume the familiarity of it to be, Alhaitham could only pinch the bridge of his nose. “I regret ever saving you.”

“Too late,” Kaveh shot back, carelessly yanking an old book out of the drawer. “The press praises you too much.”

“Have you even read the newspaper? They called me an “egotistical unheroic brat” last week.”

“Exactly,” another book landed on the floor, “I would’ve gone with something like ‘The Sulk’ or perhaps ‘Captain Passive-Aggressive’.”

The thing was, Alhaitham wasn’t even irritated. Even so, he was grateful for the sound of sirens pouring in through the open windows. “Hm. You know, some of us have better work to do, Master Architect.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes, then spontaneously decided to just pull the drawer out and flip it upside down. The contents of it clattered against the floor quite painfully. “Don’t forget your mask, Sir Complainer.”

He was glad he wasn't the type to smile easily, nodding like a bastard Kaveh considered him to be, the one thing he always reaffirmed.

And then he left the architect in the room by himself. He was glad the said architect wasn't able to see the smile that he couldn't help. It was one of those smiles he hadn't felt on his face in a while, the kind that warmed up his chest.

He was in trouble.

Alhaitham was always viewed as this... emotionless being. Perhaps, in the eyes of some ignorant people, he was equivalent to a cold machine. Only going by protocol, calculating everything, and then choosing the right option, calm and collected.

He didn't blame those people. After all, they weren’t entirely wrong. He did calculate. He didn’t understand others. Didn’t understand why he seemed distant.

But they were very wrong about the rest.

Alhaitham wasn't a cold machine.

In fact, he felt a lot. He just felt differently than a lot of people around him.

He felt immense sadness that just... fell on him, like a bunch of bricks, trapping him underneath, or a black hole deep in his chest that sucked everything around it in. He didn't know what to do with that sadness.

He felt anger and frustration, twisting in his chest like a knot he couldn't untangle, thus creating an even bigger annoyance.

And just like any other person, Alhaitham felt love. He felt so much love, and yet he couldn't give it the way others wanted him to. Didn't know how to give the love he kept deep in his heart to someone else, the same way his grandmother gave it to him. Perhaps because then his heart would be accessible to that person. Forever.

“Forever” scared Alhaitham. He never fully comprehended what it meant. He understood the concept of it, and yet he couldn't fully grasp the idea of it.

Forever. Neverending. Infinite.

Like an equation he couldn't solve, because it never ended. And what would that even look like?

On top of all of that, Alhaitham could also get hurt and feel pain. Wow. A shocker, wasn't it?

Well, pain was precisely what he was going through on one fairly cloudy day. Evening. 9:18 PM, to be precise.

A wound that he hadn’t even seen yet was snaking all the way from his hip to his upper stomach, but he was fine. The enemy was gone, people were safe, and that was all that mattered. Kaveh was sleeping soundly in his bed, so everything was okay.

At least that’s what he assumed. That mistake didn’t survive for long; the moment he closed the window behind himself, the sound of feet padding across the floor reached him. Not this, not now, please.

Newsflash, his prayers fell on deaf ears.

“Haitham?” fell from the now dry lips of a silhouette in the doorway. “What happened?” Within a moment, the shadow stepped into the dim light of the kitchen.

Even through the pain and Kaveh’s disheveled appearance, it still took the air out of Alhaitham’s lungs.

His hair was all over the place, falling over his shoulder. No clips, no cheap rubber bands. His sleep shirt was hanging over his frame loosely, revealing a toned shoulder, the golden glint of which played into the lightning too well. His hunched-over body seemed still half-asleep, but his eyes were attentive and sharp as they drifted down from Alhaitham’s face to the spot that he assumed was the source of the dull pain coursing through his frame.

“Archons, Alhaitham… What happened to you?” he repeated, voice clearer.

“Just… a little fight with the bad guys. You know the drill,” he muttered, a slight rasp in his voice.

Instead of showing any signs of amusement, Kaveh’s face molded into a strange, almost.. sad expression. He took a step forward, and some part of Alhaitham felt the need to run away. But he didn’t, letting Kaveh sigh and reach for the small medical kit that had been left forgotten on the shelf behind him for ages.

“This is pretty bad, Alhaitham,” he murmured and then took his hand, cold skin meeting warmth.

However, he stayed quiet, still not daring to look down. It’d just hurt more if he saw it as well.

Kaveh, to his surprise, led him into his own room. It was much livelier than Alhaitham’s. Much messier, too. He was soon sitting on the not-too-big bed with the covers still all over the place. Kaveh turned in his sleep a lot, it seemed. Either that, or he got really startled by the kitchen window opening.

The blonde man sat down next to him, the bed dipping under both of their weights. Alhaitham stayed still, although his lip was trapped between his teeth mercilessly. A trickle of blood was making its way down his chin. The pain itself wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t sharp or mind-whitening, just a dull, annoying ache that could be simply defined as “sore, achey, and made his head hurt”. That small trickle of blood was wiped in just a moment - Kaveh used a tissue he found in the small box, although his hand lingered close a bit longer than necessary.

Perhaps the wound was bad, but Alhaitham would willingly admit it just to prove that his irrational thoughts were caused by blood loss only.

A warm hand found the hem of the upper piece of his suit, now torn and bloody. “I knew it was separated,” left the owner’s lips, and Alhaitham would most likely scoff if he didn’t know the consequences. The now useless fabric (spandex, not latex) was then pulled over his head with gentleness that he expected, yet it surprised him anyway.

Cold air hit his bare skin, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine.

“You’ll have to go to the hospital tomorrow,” Kaveh muttered, taking a bandage into his hands.

“No need. It’ll heal.”

“Right. Spider things,” the architect scoffed, placing an alcohol rag on the spot. That might’ve made Alhaitham hiss, but it also might’ve been just a sound from the streets, sneaking into the room through the open window. Details.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

The debate was over with that. Alhaitham was way too tired to argue with a man running on multiple cups of coffee. Soon enough, the skilled hands started wrapping the bandage around his middle. The warmth radiating off them left a tingling sensation behind.

For just a minute, the space between them stayed cold, only filled by the faint sound of the wind outside. Kaveh broke it, just like he always had.

“Geez. Can you take better care of yourself for once?" he muttered.

Alhaitham sighed. “Just let me take care of this, okay? It's fine.”

Kaveh shook his head. A pout was playing on his lips. Childish. And yet... almost made Alhaitham spare a smile.

“I'm scared you won't return one day. That I'll see headlines… Spider-Man is dead! and stuff, and…” The weight of his own words broke his voice, and his eyes flickered up, directly meeting Alhaitham's. Glowing even in the dark.

The banter was over now, Alhaitham realized.

Maybe it was the warm room lighting, maybe Kaveh's beautiful eyes, his hands on him, or the unexpected vulnerability lacing his voice, but Alhaitham let the same warmth he felt contour his voice.

“I'll always come back to you.”

He could feel the hands on him freeze. Kaveh's pupils widened just slightly, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Alhaitham responded, lacking the usual snark or stoicism. It was one of the easiest responses he'd ever given.

Then, a low groan escaped him as Kaveh pulled the bandage one last time, securing it carefully. "There. You're as patched up as possible now," he murmured, but his slim hands stayed on Alhaitham's body.

Alhaitham knew he was in Kaveh's room; therefore, it was up to him to leave.

He also knew it was a strategic move. Kaveh was a genius, after all.

So he didn't move. Not until those blood-red eyes locked back with his. "You should stay here with me tonight. Just in case something happens. You know, related to your injury."

"Of course."

He heard the ruffling of the sheets before he registered Kaveh shifting on the bed, turning around exactly when the warm weight settled against his side. Kaveh slowly lay down, dragging the blanket up. Alhaitham followed the motion, a little stiff. He chose to blame it on the sharp pain, not the careful presence of another heartbeat so close to his own.

Kaveh didn't specify what could happen, but Alhaitham didn't care. Not tonight, when the moon threw a silver glow over them, and when their shadows merged.

Can I really afford this?

An echo of his younger self, who had the fragile heart of the other at his fingertips and still discarded it, silently watched from the corner of the room.

But oh, Alhaitham couldn't look away from the face of the golden boy in front of him. It was too easy to get lost in the shape of his lips; full, with the upper lip slightly thinner than the lower one, a bit chapped around the edges from biting them when he’s stressed. Too easy to trace the contours of his soft face, the smooth cheeks, and the narrow nose with the tiniest bump at the bridge.

Illogically, Alhaitham wished that it would be the first face he saw in the morning and the last image lingering in his mind before sleep.

"Strange," Kaveh murmured, snapping him out of it. Momentarily, anyway.

"Strange?" he echoed; his voice had a tense edge to it.

Not like he got a reply.

Outside, a street lamp kept flickering with a small buzzing sound. The warmth next to him shifted again. Closer now.

When scarlet eyes found teal, the traitor in his chest couldn't help but stumble. "Haitham?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you promise me something else?"

Kaveh's whisper went in one ear and out the other, all thoughts forgotten as soon as his warm hand carefully reached out and found its place on Alhaitham's chest. Right over his heart. No hiding its inconsistent beats now, huh.

When Kaveh's eyes flickered back up, the words finally registered in his brain, which then gave the command to nod.

Silence followed. But only for a moment, because they were Alhaitham and Kaveh

"Promise... You'll be brave."

Brave.

What a ridiculous thought.

Alhaitham was Spider-Man.

The one and only.

He regularly jumped into literal collapsing buildings and fire, leaped off rooftops, threw himself into glass-

But that still didn't make him any less of a coward.

Because when it came to Kaveh, he was never reckless like that. It was never about him; maybe that was why.

But for a moment, when Kaveh's body heat tickled his skin, he wanted to be just that.

Reckless. Brave.

Selfish, even.

"I promise," he whispered back. "I'll be brave."

Something changed in those eyes, then.

The bed creaked once again. This time, it was Alhaitham inching closer. Chasing that warmth, like he couldn't help it anymore.

Kaveh's hand slowly glided up, leaving tingles in its wake. The gentle touch of his fingertips on Alhaitham's neck almost made him shiver. And then... they settled on his jaw. Steady. Secure.

If he was being honest, Alhaitham didn't know who leaned in first, didn't have time to notice.

All he knew was that something warm and soft was pressing against his lips and-

Oh. Something in his chest collapsed into a shaky mess, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to put it back together later.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The world shrank to the warmth of skin and the sound of shared breathing.

Then, slowly, like gravity had finally won, Alhaitham leaned in. The kiss was quiet, almost cautious, but under it lay years of restraint. Kaveh’s fingers twitched on his jaw; Alhaitham’s breath stuttered against his mouth.

It ended far too quickly. Kaveh pulled away, eyes cast down.

Neither of them moved. It wasn’t relief that filled the space—it was tension, sharper than before.

Until... Then Kaveh moved again—quietly, almost shyly—and pressed himself into Alhaitham’s chest. The latter stayed frozen for a moment, shook. Fortunately, his body somehow managed to respond to the change; his arm slowly wrapped around Kaveh's shoulders, perhaps too carefully - as if he was something fragile that could be broken far too easily, or made out of the most sensitive porcelain.

Kaveh fit against him like he’d always been meant to be there, and Alhaitham, for once, couldn’t bring himself to question it.

He could feel Kaveh's back lightly pushing against his arm as he took a deep breath. A whisper hit him, then.

"I love you."

Almost like nothing had ever changed.

Like they were still kids.

Alhaitham didn't say it back. Instead, he pulled him just a little closer, held him steadier. Pressed a small kiss into his hair, going against the invisible barrier made of fluttery ripples in his chest.

Alhaitham closed his eyes. Forgot, just for a moment, and let himself fall apart, blending into him. His light. The love of his life.

However, that was a mistake.

One that Alhaitham realized far too late.

He didn’t think about it while kissing Kaveh. No, he didn’t spare a second thought before he let himself fall under Kaveh’s charm, and not a single one when he gave him that unfair smile, either.

And when he became one with Kaveh, when their hearts beat as one for a moment? No thoughts, no doubts, not even a warning from the usual Alhaitham pushed behind, who probably gave up anyway.

That was… kind of stupid.

The time that passed from the moment Alhaitham woke up to the one in which he finally realized what he had really done was embarrassingly long, too.

Everything felt like heaven at first. All the pressure and stress seemingly disappeared from his body overnight. He was warm and content. There was a soft plushie next to him. Although he never fully understood people’s love for plushies, this one was of a really high quality.

Yeah. Those were the only things in his empty head.

Alhaitham was cuddling that plushie for a very long time. Cue: it moved. And Alhaitham’s brain finally managed to wake up. (Perhaps age was finally catching up to him.)

His eyes shot open immediately.

He found Kaveh cuddled up to his side with a faint trace of a smile on his face. The betraying stab in his chest was more than enough to wake him up.

Oh no.

He got out of the bed as quickly as he could while still appearing relatively peaceful and not stirring Kaveh awake. A little whine threatened to escape his own lips once he left the warm cocoon they made together. The sleeping Kaveh also seemed unsatisfied with this decision, the little smile fading. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly.

The room was way too cold, especially the floor. Making as little sound as possible, Alhaitham managed to get to the kitchen. His hand carefully shut the door with the metal knob.

However, his act didn’t last forever; as soon as his fingers slid down from it, an annoyingly pathetic sound left him.

Oh, holy mother and father of the Goddess his nation worshipped, what had he done?

He wasn’t even drunk; he was sober and injured, and Kaveh wasn’t intoxicated either.

What were they thinking?

Something completely irrational, his brain helpfully supplied.

With the strength of a fallen soldier, he stumbled to the coffee machine and kept his hands busy while his head pulsed.

The night before, he went against every single one of his unwritten rules. Every principle. Every rule he set, he broke in one night. Not even one night. An hour.

That just wasn't fair.

His little respite didn’t last long, of course. Just like the night before, the light pat-pats of Kaveh’s feet against the floorboards reached his ears sooner than he had a chance to form any kind of coherent thought.

He barely got a few drops of coffee (alternatively, his usual savior in times of misery) into his system before “Hayi?”

He was way too weak for that. Alhaitham was in so much trouble. Maybe in bigger trouble than when he was holding on with one web separating him from the fall to his death. Because now, there was another person involved. The person being Kaveh.

And Alhaitham could hardly stand Kaveh’s heart on the line.

“…You should’ve stayed in bed with me. It's early,” left the pretty architect’s lips with a slight raspy edge to it.

Alhaitham was spiraling.

“I just… wanted coffee.”

“Mhm.” A yawn followed. The architect took a small step closer. With every centimeter disappearing between them, the sweet scent of sandalwood and amber, now with a sweaty undertone, clouded Alhaitham’s senses more and more.

"You okay?” was the next thing that left Kaveh’s mouth just half a minute later. He shuffled over to him, eyes still cloudy and hair messy.

The final realization dawned on him the moment his wound apparently came back to life. As it pulsed uncomfortably under the cloth, the verdict fell on him in the same rhythm.

Alhaitham could never do this.

Not to himself, not to Kaveh.

You see, Alhaitham was a coward. He wasn't brave. All the talk the night before?

It was all white lies and empty promises. An act.

In fact, maybe this was never about Kaveh. Maybe "being protective" was just an excuse.

His heart was way too scared to love Kaveh back. Scared of change. Of putting itself on the line.

That stuttering heart wasn’t something the man deserved. On top of that, his rational counterpart was back. Breaking his own heart.

Don’t let him become an even bigger weakness than he already is.

And so, “I made a mistake yesterday,” was said.

A step back was taken.

Kaveh froze, and in his eyes, Alhaitham saw the same thing from all those years ago lose its glow all over again, as if the happiness had been sucked out of him. Once again, it was Alhaitham’s fault.

“Haitham-”

“I wasn’t thinking properly. I was weak and injured. I am sorry for not being honest with you.”

This time, Kaveh didn’t turn away. No, the air shifted, charged with electricity. Kaveh’s sleepy features sharpened. His voice carried fire when he shot back, “You’re lying.”

“I am not. I don’t intend to hurt your feelings by-”

“You’re doing that right now!” Kaveh took a step forward, clenching his fists. This time, Alhaitham had nowhere to run; his back hit the cold counter.

“Alhaitham, what’s wrong with you? I know you feel the same, but you just…” he trailed off. His hands took Alhaitham’s into theirs ever so gently, and the anger faded from his voice for a mere second as he whispered, “Why?”

“You can’t be with me,” Alhaitham let out. His voice was surprisingly stable considering his insides were clenching rather painfully. His stomach was upset all of a sudden, too.

Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to say, either.

Kaveh’s pretty features morphed into an angry mess. “Oh? So, Mr. Alhaitham thinks he has the right to decide for me? Yeah? You think you know best, huh?” his raised voice echoed through the plain kitchen. Alhaitham felt like a soldier without a weapon, deep in enemy territory. Not even the colorful trinkets Kaveh had scattered around the kitchen helped to make the room less cold.

“Well, guess what. I am tired of you acting like the world revolves around you. Because you know what? What you’re doing is selfish. Arrogant and selfish! You push me away just to feel better? For what, years? That’s messed up!”

Alhaitham didn’t even flinch. His expression stayed the same, but he knew Kaveh could see the unease in his eyes. He wished the older would slap him instead. The little thing in his chest that thrived last night now spasmed painfully, slowly whithering. It never had the environment to grow anyway.

“You’re hurting me, Alhaitham.” The heat was gone for a moment. Alhaitham might’ve heard his own heart crack. “You’re hurting me while trying to protect me. You want the truth? I’d rather die loving you than keep on living without you.”

The confession hung in the air. Kaveh’s widened eyes and heavy breaths urged Alhaitham to say something, to take it all back. His mouth opened before he knew it, his heart and brain at conflict, which caused the rest of his body to burn.

“You misunderstand. I never wanted this. Never wanted... you.”

He would resent me later. It’s better this way.

The anger in the crimson eyes shifted. The words from before hadn’t managed to stab where these did. Alhaitham could see it; the verbal blade piercing right through Kaveh’s heart, for real. It made his own heart bleed, but he said nothing. There wasn’t anything else that was meant to be said anymore.

His opportunity to fix this was soon taken away, forever.

“You really are heartless.”

That finished him off. Kaveh, his wonderful Kaveh, the only person who ever saw him and his clumsy heart, said that. He couldn’t possibly change his mind like that, unless he did. Unless Alhaitham cut too deep.

The last source of warmth in the dark room disappeared as the blonde turned around and left without another word.

The door slammed behind Kaveh, and the sound lingered far longer than it should have. The apartment fell into silence—hollow, heavy, unforgiving.

Alhaitham stood there, still half-turned toward the door, breath caught somewhere between apology and reason. The echo of Kaveh’s voice still burned in his chest, raw and vivid. He exhaled. It didn’t help.

He moved because standing still hurt more. Shirt, jacket, gloves—each movement careful, deliberate, mechanical. The routine steadied him, or at least pretended to. The smell of coffee clung faintly to the air. So did Kaveh’s scent.

He reached for his mask, and the moment his fingers brushed the fabric, the light in the room shifted. A low hum. The edges of the world seemed to bend—color bleeding, air trembling.

And then, before he could even curse or think, the portal bloomed open.

Chapter Text

“Who are you?” Kinich’s voice was surprisingly stable when the words left him. The other man didn't bother himself with responding; instead, he focused on scanning the surroundings. 

He seemed older than Kinich, that was for sure. Late twenties, he could guess. Besides that, it was hard to deduce anything else. Questions boiling in his throat were forcing themselves higher, but he shoved them down like usual. 

Kinich was always a curious kid, but with no one around to answer his questions, he learned to keep them to himself. 

The unfamiliar man eventually looked back and took a step closer. An involuntary shiver ran down Kinich’s back—reason unknown (perhaps he was a little handsome and intimidating). 

“My name is Alhaitham. I am Spider-Man.” 

For a moment, there was silence. Just the pitter-patter of water dropping from the ceiling somewhere and white noise, really. 

Then, 

“That's quite a stupid name.” 

Because it was, okay? Yes, Kinich was also referred to as a Spider due to his... unique skills, but Spider-Man? Come on, now. Was this guy just not creative or..? 

Also, another worthwhile question: Who the heck was this guy, anyway? 

Kinich was very well aware of the heroes of other nations, such as Mondstadt's Darknight Hero or Fontaine’s Marechaussee Hunters. He couldn't say he had ever heard of “Spider-Man” before. 

Apparently, this fellow Spider-guy didn't take the insult to heart. He stayed silent. Waiting, Kinich realized, and offered his own response. “Mine’s Malipo. Your answer doesn't really answer my question, though. Just who are you?” 

Silence followed once again, but lasted only a few seconds this time. “I am a... hero, I guess you could say. I originate from Sumeru. A rather strange phenomenon led me here.” 

“A strange phenomenon?”

“A portal. Or so I assume. I had no time to prove that claim, though, so take it with a grain of salt.” 

A portal, huh? 

Kinich's helpful mind presented him with an image from just a little while ago. 

“Is there any chance the portal was obnoxiously flashing with far too many colors at once? And twitching in thirty different directions?” 

Spider-Man - Alhaitham - tensed at that. Bingo. “That... sounds about right, yes.” 

Ah. That was certainly a situation.

Now, based on the (questionable) information provided, he could only guess what went wrong, but was also able to confidently deduce that the spiky ball would pose a much bigger problem than he had anticipated at first. Hell, if it was capable of transferring living beings through space and possibly time, he was in trouble. Real trouble. 

Kinich's gut was telling him that, although the source of it disappeared for a while, the fiasco from earlier was only a prelude to something much worse.

Be that as it may, the situation didn't suggest that this Alhaitham guy was an immediate threat. He jumped down from the container and moved over to the middle of the place, where the fried disc lay. 

“Is this where you saw it?” he questioned. He had a faint accent, proving himself to be from Sumeru. 

“Yes. There was also the... bird, or whatever it was supposed to be. You saw it yourself.” 

Even though both of them seemed to be warming up to each other, Kinich still felt a nagging doubt in his mind. If Alhaitham was indeed a hero from Sumeru, as his appearance and words suggested, and if his abilities were similar to Kinich's, then…

How the hell had Kinich never heard of him? Sumeru wasn't that far. 

“Whatever happened here probably failed,” were Alhaitham's next words. “All this tech is a little odd to me, but I wouldn't be able to figure out much anyway. All the wires are fried,” he added. 

Kinich followed suit then, landing next to the man already crouching on the floor. “We should look around some more now that it's calm here. We might find something.” 

Alhaitham looked up. He looked for a long while, actually. Nodded and stood up, after, not forgetting to put his mask back on. What a talkative guy. Kinich had a feeling they were going to get along quite well. 

Even without any telephatic link, they silently decided to split. While the so-called Spider-Man (Ajaw would have his own comments) decided to inspect the containers and various cables, Kinich chose to pull himself up into the large, broken window on the upper level. 

Careful not to step into the glass, he quickly scanned the room. A big table with an unnecessary amount of clothes? Check. A bunch of suitcases, boxes, and a broken laptop, all in one hoard? Check. A… pair of lab coats and cracked glasses lying on the ground? A concerning check.. With an added exclamation mark. 

Even though, funnily enough, exclamation marks never stopped Kinich from turning in assignments late. He told himself this was a different kind of exclamation mark. 

Stopping himself from pondering over the owners of said coats for too long, Kinich focused on the crates themselves. Dust-covered, brown binders welcomed him as he opened the lid. A not-so-pleasant smell of once-wet, old paper filled his nose alongside it. Great. Kinich just loved documents. 

With his gloved hand, he reached into it to take out what he perceived as his future misery. Inside, there were... drabbles—no better word for it. 

He could barely decipher a few words, but it was left behind by a mad scientist for sure. Besides the constant repetition of “new beginning”, “proceedings”, “hypothesis”, and “delay”, Kinich had the capacity to note one thing. At the bottom corner of every page, every single one, there was a printed logo. One he knew far too well. 

Alchemax. 

Yeah, Alchemax of all things. The most unproblematic corporation. One that never failed to keep things lowkey and chill. 

Oh Archons. 

One more look around, now with a goal in mind, and Kinich knew for sure that this mess had been caused by none other than the infamous laboratories. Just as he thought, there was that damned logo tucked everywhere. 

More trouble incoming. How convenient. 

“Malipo!” bounced off the vacated walls just then, prompting Kinich to quickly shove the box under his arm and swing over to Spider-Man. He was standing close to the huge metal door (also known as the former main exit). 

“Have you found anything?” he asked as he landed. 

Alhaitham turned to him. Eyed the box first, but did not comment on the choice to take the whole damn crate stuffed with unnecessary logs. In hindsight, that wasn't the brightest idea. Everything seemed kind of stupid in front of the quiet and obviously wiser man. 

“This.. I mean, it seems important. If not, odd enough to note, anyway.” Alhaitham held out his hand. In the clothed palm, something... ink-black, slimy and... quite disturbing was twitching. 

Kinich had never seen anything like that before. And he had witnessed his own fair share of things, alright. 

“What the hell is that? It looks... alive.” 

“I'm afraid I don't know much more than you. I can present the facts, though. This thing was lying close to the place where the portal had been. It was moving rather slowly, and it seemed sentient. Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, it looks like a black slug.” 

“... Okay.” 

“That’s it?” 

“Just.. take it.” Kinich sighed, rubbing his temples through his mask.

“To?” 

“Huh?” 

“Where am I supposed to take it?” 

Ah. Good point. 

Kinich quickly thought about his options. Sumeru was far. His small apartment... not as far. 

Alhaitham was looking at him like he already knew where they were going, anyway. 

This couldn't end well. 

Later that night, when Kinich woke up to the sound of mouse clicks and the press of keyboard keys, he seriously reconsidered his choices. 

Was it too late to kick this guy out? 

He sat up on his bed, the thin blanket his mother left behind slipping into his lap. “What the hell are you doing?” he croaked out. When he got no response, he brought his hand up to rub his eyes and tried to look into the light, no matter how much it hurt.

There, at his desk, was Alhaitham, seated as if he owned the place. One of his hands was on the keyboard, the other constantly moving the computer mouse around as he stared into the blue light. One peek at Kinich’s alarm told him that it was far too late to be doing any of this. 

 3:18 AM. He couldn’t even make that up.

“Hey. Can’t you just sleep like a normal person?” Kinich attempted again. This time, Alhaitham actually looked at him. “Not right now. I’m trying to investigate. The documents you found are all in code.”

“Investigate? Investigate what?” 

“The Alchemax over here. I have something similar back home. ”

“Can’t you... do that tomorrow?” Kinich flopped back down on the bed. 

No response, again. Kinich sighed. “Do you want to get back to Sumeru that badly?”

“I guess you could say that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a minute, his only reply was the distant buzz of the fan he had left turned on in the kitchen and the sway of the curtains above his bed. But then, Alhaitham spoke up again. His voice was softer than before. 

“Someone is waiting for me.”

Kinich folded his arms under his head, closing his eyes. “You got a... damsel in distress?” he murmured, half-joking.

That earned him a snort. “If he were that, my life would be much easier, trust me.”

“He?”

“Yes.”

Kinich hummed in response. He couldn’t care less about who Alhaitham was into. Not like he cared about stuff like that, either way. And whilst he wasn’t the kind of person to get interested in other people’s love lives, something about Alhaitham’s tone got him curious. 

He wouldn’t fall asleep now, anyway. 

“What’s he like?”

“Stubborn.”

Kinich snorted this time. “That’s it? Just stubborn?”

He could see Alhaitham’s smile, barely there, but close enough to the lamp to be visible. “He’s a lot of things. I won’t bore you with that, however. You should go back to sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

“I know,” Kinich grunted, his expression twisting in distaste. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” 

Kinich’s prediction was, once again, right.

This would not end well. 

“Remember. You're a high school student now," he hissed under his breath.

“I'm almost twenty-six years old, Kinich.” 

“You… appear young enough to... look mature for your age.” 

“Whatever that means.” 

Alhaitham looked ridiculous in Kinich's spare uniform. It was too short, too tight, too everything. 

Worst of all? He looked more like a goddamn teacher attempting a pitiful joke than a student. Pitiful, yes. The same way Kinich felt, tying his oversized jacket around Alhaitham's waist. This action… didn't help to make him appear much younger, but at least he didn't seem as serious now. 

“Try to smile?” Kinich tried. 

“I'd rather not,” Alhaitham promptly shot back. 

“I get that, but…” The sentence was left unfinished. Kinich finally gave up, his shoulders sagging with a miserable sigh hanging off his lips. 

They were standing behind the main building of his school, and his 'little' friend did not look like he belonged anywhere in a three-mile radius, even after all of Kinich's attempts. Everything about that situation was... pitiful, you could say. 

"You'll be late," Alhaitham helpfully reminded. Maybe he'd... blend in the crowd. With the jocks. Yeah. Totally. 

"Act natural," Kinich uttered, just as helpfully, before diving into the closest group of people. 

"Oh, cher," the stealthy hero mumbled under her breath. Through the air, a faint fragrance of... bubblegums and sugary fizzy drinks found the way to her. 

That must've been the natural scent of this world's education centers. 

She wouldn't call them schools, as the buildings surrounding her were nothing like the prestigious houses of knowledge and wisdom she knew. 

Ah, good thing she had the power of her master acting skills! Fitting in should be no problem at all. 

The heroine passed all the classes with no issue, even catching the latest phrases teenagers liked to use in this unfamiliar world, further proving her ability as not only a skilled actor but also a worthwhile spy. 

The local slang was... a tad confusing, but nothing a professional like herself couldn't handle. 

The spider-sense blessing her mind tickled its way into her consciousness once more, reminding her of her ultimate goal, and also indicating that she was getting closer, just as she had anticipated. 

With a single, unsuspicious glance around the hall, she finally found her target. 

An awkward-looking duo consisting of an obviously adult man, whom she deemed a local. Magnificent! 

The performance was slowly coming to an end, just like she was closing in on her goal. 

So far, the day had been going well. 

Just think about it, waking up to Ajaw's snores and a literal stranger hanging off your ceiling reading a book? The perfect start of the day, if you ask Kinich. 

But really, the best part was when his antisocial companion had to reject a girl who was way too young for him. Oh? That happened three times? Kinich must've missed it. 

All of that being said, the comedy must've reached its peak right there in the science lab. 

Alhaitham, attempting to sneak the black snug under a microscope, got called out for it. 

With all honesty, Kinich should've known Alhaitham would be a smartass. 

When the poor old teacher bombarded him with questions, he answered every. single. one. Throughoughly. Calmly. Offered his own little comments, too. 

Not like Kinich wanted to complain or anything. Not only was the expression on the professor's face priceless, but Alhaitham was left alone by him. He could use the microscope and all the other things as much as he wanted. And be reassured, he did. Made notes as well. 

Kinich wouldn't consider himself dumb per se, but he was grateful for Alhaitham's quiet, menacing presence in the end. 

Not so much so when he had to avoid Ifa (and Mualani), but he'd get over that. 

He had more important things to do, anyway. Like figuring out the origins of the goo, successfully read all the diaries under his bed, look into Alchemax (for the sixth time now), and send Alhaitham home. Just to name a few. In no particular order. 

Fortunately, the old professor could only teach for so long, meaning they would soon get their chance to focus on the first task, at least. 

Twenty minutes in, and the fated "Please, form groups of three or four, and work on exercises one, three, four, and six together," was spoken in the teacher's scratchy voice. 

Just when he thought they would actually have to look for a poor soul to sacrifice, a voice carrying a significant Fontanian accent chimed up behind his back. 

"Gentlemen. Ahem, I would like to join your... group!" 

They both turned at the same time, only to be greeted by the sight of a petite, short girl. Kinich had never seen her before (not like he paid too much attention to other people). She was dressed in the uniform like everyone else, albeit it seemed a little big on her. Her hair was similar to Mualani's, except it was much shorter and slightly paler. Each of the girl's eyes was of a different color, with the left one being a deeper shade of blue. 

Her skin was too pale for her to be related to Natlan in any way. Combined with the accent, it wasn't difficult to tell where she hailed from. 

Kinich scanned her with his eyes for the last time. That was when it hit. The little, but pretty damn annoying buzzing at the back of his mind. Almost as if his mind was vibrating. 

She's like me. Like us.

And that-

Oh.

... What?

Another one? 

Kinich managed to calm his rushing mind after a minute and decided to play along. "Sure."

A smug smile spread on the girl's face. "Fantastique! My name is Furina. I am an exchange student from Fontaine." She, Furina, made herself comfortable on the otherwise uncomfortable wooden chair. "I cannot lie, though, I am... quite lost. Would you mind telling me what we are working on?" 

Alhaitham seemingly didn't get the memo. Instead of keeping up the act, he pushed the petri dish containing the slug toward her. "This". 

Now, Kinich wasn't the best at reading the facial expressions of other people, but he was pretty sure the way Furina's smile froze on her face couldn't possibly mean anything good. 

"Uhm... That is rather disturbing, don't you agree? Where did you find this, if I may inquire?" 

So she did know something. 

Alhaitham figured as much, too; "Do you recognize it?" 

Furina kept a smile on her face, although strained. "I prefer not to talk about this particular subject as of now. Why don't we save it for later?" 

Careful, Kinich noted. Alhaitham took the petri dish and hid it. Now that it was pointed out, it wasn't the best idea to... leave it in plain sight. 

"Alright. Let's focus on exercise number three, then." 

Oh.

Was Alhaitham seriously planning to do the actual assigned work? 

Sometimes, fate worked in amusing ways. And by ‘funny ways’, Kinich would imply ‘bumping into the girl he might have had a small crush on’, which was, frankly, the last thing he needed. The fact that one pouty Ifa was trailing behind her wasn't an ideal addition, either. 

His plan to get Alhaitham and Furina out of school and hide them in his apartment forever wasn't going that badly, really. Just one very sudden confession and a certain Fontanian getting scared of a phone, but nothing Malipo couldn't handle. 

Cue: a swirl of bright blue hair and a smile that could literally blind people. Kinich felt himself swaying on his usually very reliable feet, personally. 

“Kinich!” she chirped, not giving him a single moment to respond before noticing the two people attempting to disappear behind him. “Ooh, who are they?” fell out of her mouth in the most innocent, Mualani way possible. 

“They, uh..” 

“I am Furina de Fontaine!” Would he ever not get interrupted? “I’m very pleased to meet you.” Furina did a little unnecessary bow to punctuate her words. They were right about the Fontanian love for dramatics. 

“Alhaitham,” came from behind him a split second later. Probably an introduction, too. 

While facepalming could seem like the best course of action, Mualani's chuckle reminded Kinich to be strong. “We're kind of in a hurry, Mua, so..” he tried, but- 

“Mua?! You haven't called me that in ages.” 

“That.. yeah. Sorry.” 

“Huh? I like it! You're the only one who's ever used that nickname. Anyway- I won't, like, take much of your time, but-” She took a deep breath, and Kinich knew what was coming even before the words started falling from her lips at an admirable speed. 

“You see, the school band is playing a huuuge concert pretty soon and, like I said, it's gonna be super awesome. At the theatre and all. I've already told Ifa, and I'd like you to come, too. Also, are you coming to the fall prom later this month? I mean, we used to go together all the time, and now that they brought it back, I mean- How cool is that? Ah, right, I mostly wanted to talk to you to say that I really, really miss our friendship and would love for us to hang out again! Would you meet me over coffee sometime this week?” 

She blinked after. Not even having to take a breather. 

Kinich blinked back at her. The words eventually did load in his brain, partially thanks to all the time he used to spend with her. 

However, it did take a little longer than it used to. Blame it on the damn smile. “Uhm, sure. I'll, uh.. I'll text you.” 

Mualani beamed; she smiled wider than Kinich thought possible. And then, she- oh, Archons. She launched herself at him. 

For a moment, he had the citrusy scent and overwhelming warmth in his arms. His mind froze, and in contrast, his entire body felt as if it were burning from the inside. 

He had her

In his arms,

but then

she was gone. 

Kinich, unfortunately, couldn't fully wake up from the shock just yet, but he didn't fail to notice the faint pink coloring of Mualani's cheeks. She sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let out a coughed-up chuckle. “I- uhm. I should go, but, uh.. See you later, yeah?” 

She was gone before he got the chance to reply, Ifa disappearing somewhere with her. It was only after Furina waved her hand in front of him that he realized what had happened. 

Red rushed into his own cheeks, despite all his attempts to keep a straight face. “Well-” 

“Don't say anything, please. It's already as terrible as it can be. And I thought I was bad. Let's just go,” Alhaitham remarked and wasted no time moving toward the exit. 

Note: It was not terrible. Kinich was just caught off guard. 

… But one more hug like that might cause trouble.

“ Dear diary, 

I finally managed to catch Kinich today. There were two new faces behind him. Honestly, they both seemed super duper cool. I told him everything I wanted! 

I must admit, though, hugging him wasn't a part of my initial plan. I just.. couldn't help it, you know? 

First, he called me Mua, then fall prom was mentioned… I got reminded of old times. 

I'm a bit shy to admit this, but when I jumped at him, he caught me, duh, but my point is: his arms got so much bigger since I last saw him. Is that a weird thing to notice?

Anyway, I'm super glad I'll get to talk to him again soon. Maybe I could even tell him about the Alchemax thing. I'm sure he'll be happy for me. He was always such a good friend. 

       - Mualani ♡“

Chapter Text

The research room didn’t seem very significant at first glance. 

To anyone who would’ve opened the door despite having been told not to, only darkness and the muffled ticking of machinery would be presented. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Like a timed bomb, counting down the moments until the inevitable explosion. 

Yet, to the man behind it all, those ticks were not just sounds. They were words, whispered in a language only he could understand. 

Quiet, promising whispers. Inviting. 

As the sound of an old, buzzing light came to life, the true face of those dirty four walls was revealed.

Desks, aged computers, busy machines, and that, the dream that the man in front of it worked so hard to make real.

Just bits and pieces, but not for too long now. 

The nearly perfect ambience of a room created by pure genius was soon disturbed by footsteps cutting through the silence, approaching.

A soft voice spoke up behind him. “Sir… We are ready to start a breach. I am almost certain it will give us the answers needed.” 

The man turned to her—a petite Child of his, a smart one. He remembered the day she got in; her hair, red like a burning flame, and a fierce, brave look in her eyes. It had reminded him of the past buried deep. She intrigued him, and her intellect was a payoff he couldn’t be more satisfied with. 

“Understood. I am delighted with your work, Child.” 

A small, almost invisible smile spread across her face, two dimples revealed in her pale cheeks. Ah. Still a child. Yet one who managed to gain access to that very special room. 

His train of thought was discarded as the quiet beeping morphed into a roar, foreshadowing a miracle soon to come. 

Soon, it would all end.

And Capitano’s story would finally come to a close.

When faced with a difficult situation or an unexpected problem, Kinich’s first course of action was to find the best possible outcome. 

The next step was to find a way to achieve it, obviously. 

Regardless, he could hardly believe he would even get to that point now.

After all, thinking itself was pretty difficult when three vastly different beings were stuffed into his tiny apartment. Coming up with a practical strategy seemed near impossible. 

The usually quiet kitchenette was now filled with Furina’s numerous complaints about toast and Ajaw’s complaints about Furina. Only Alhaitham - bless him - was silently sipping the coffee that Kinich kind of messed up. He should reconsider every negative thought he had ever had about Alhaitham.

The man in question evidently liked the noise as much as Kinich, which became apparent when he let out a sigh so loud that he might’ve as well just cleared his throat like a normal person instead. 

Furina clasped her small mouth shut, and Ajaw redirected his gaze as well. 

“Furina. Yesterday, you mentioned your intention to tell us something, yes?” Alhaitham’s voice remained calm, albeit with a hint of frustration. 

Recognition flicked in Furina’s eyes. “Oui! Right, right. You are correct.” She gracefully sat down in one of the two chairs (leaving none for Kinich, thanks), and crossed her legs. 

“I had every intention of confronting you about that dreadful little black creature you keep - truly, a scandal in itself! Yet, alas, a far graver predicament demands my attention! For I find myself most assuredly not in Natlan, and yet—quelle ironie!—everyone around me insists I am! Have they all gone mad, or has the world decided to play a cruel farce at my expense?!”

The two other men share a look. 

“What are you talking about?” Kinich said after a moment, half-asking for a translation. “Where else would you-”

The voice, with an unnecessarily dramatic edge, interrupted him immediately. “Natlan—ah, Natlan!—a nation once sung of for its valiant warriors, its blazing pride, its unyielding spirit of war! And yet... mon dieu! What is this mockery I behold?” She brought a hand to her forehead. Kinich guessed an imitation of collapse was her intention. 

She then stood up, clasping her hands. “Of course, I cannot claim to be its most frequent visitor, non, but my dear, this—this is most certainly not the Natlan engraved in my memory! Those gimmicks in everyone’s hands—sacrebleu! I’ve never even heard of such infernal devices! And your… schools? Your people? Non, non, non! This is not the Natlan I once knew, my friends—this is a masquerade wearing its name!”

A…. rather awkward silence filled the room. Furina didn’t seem too bothered, sitting back down and brushing invisible crumbs off her pants. Kinich slowly blinked at her, then focused on the farthest wall to properly sort his thoughts. 

Well, it could be said that… she was right. Her confusion when she first saw a phone was genuine, even given her love of drama. Wasn’t familiar with cars either, and screamed on a bus. 

Could it be…

“How about a time machine?” 

Two pairs of eyes locked with his, and a charged silence followed. Even Ajaw shut up for two seconds, although he might’ve just been stunned by Furina’s impactful speech (performance?). 

Furina reacted almost immediately. “If it is that, my Fontaine doesn’t have that. And I am sure no other nations do, either. I would’ve known.” 

Alhaitham hummed. “Kinich does have a point, though. I do not believe that we have time machines where I come from, but perhaps we got pulled in here because the original… is here.” He paused, looking down at his unfinished toast. “I was reading some articles on the Alchemax nearby, and it certainly seems more advanced than what I am used to.” 

Neither Kinich nor Furina had any time to consider it before he continued with an argument against himself properly. “Even so, this theory also appears flawed to me. Based on my observations, it appears that Kinich and I originate from very similar eras, if that’s how we are going to refer to them for this hypothesis. It just doesn’t add up very well, not to mention… Spider-Man never existed here. Nor Furina de Fontaine. There would be some records. I found none.”

Kinich nodded, crossing his arms. It was much easier to listen to the calm, calculating words than the too-loud-for-seven-am dramatics, that was certain. 

“Alhaitham is right. I don’t think we are talking about time here. Moreover… Furina, if the black slug disturbs you so much, there must be a bigger meaning to it. I am sure at least one of us would know something about it.” 

For once, Kinich was sure that Furina’s expression wasn’t a result of her star actor skills, but rather an honest fear. The color drained from her otherwise red cheeks, and a slight stutter crept into her words. 

“Ah… Right. That.” 

She shifted her weight on her feet and coughed into her fist. Buying time, probably. The two-colored eyes flicked down to the ground. “I… I might be mistaken, but what you’re investigating—it bears an eerie resemblance to something I once knew. It’s a… thing, though even now I cannot claim to understand it in full. Only this, I remember with certainty: it does dreadful things to people.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line as she paused to consider her following words.

“It wraps around your very soul and squeezes until you forget where you end, and it begins. You start feeling emotions that were never yours to feel… hurting those you swore you never would.”  A shudder ran through her. “That little ‘slug’ right there is merely a small part of it. I had believed, naively, that I’d destroyed it.”

Furina’s eyes look back up at them, no act left in them. “But it seems we have yet to learn the rules of this cruel, infernal game. Because if that remnant still exists here… then the rest has already found another host.” 

Practices were Mualani’s, like… eighth favorite thing. Maybe seventh, because some concerts really sucked, so that would put them in eighth place instead. 

It wasn’t like practices didn’t sometimes suck, too, but not this one - hah. That theater wasn't prepared for her new arsenal. 

Neither was Mr. Lumai, who still thought of her as a little girl with pigtails. She definitely knew how to properly twist those drumsticks, alright. 

The bald man she was just thinking of appeared from around the corner, so she put on her best smile and walked over to him. “Mr. Lumai, hi!”

The old man smiled. “Mualani, welcome back to the theater, welcome. Where’s the rest of your band?” 

Mualani let out an amused huff. Leave it to Mr. Lumai to unnecessarily put her above others. “It’s a school band, sir. I am not even the lead. And, well, I am here a teensy bit sooner. Wanted to practice my solo in advance, y’know.” 

The theater manager nodded, although Mualani doubted the words had actually appropriately registered in his head. “School band, yes, yes… Feel free to use whatever you like for the practice, ‘lani,” the man’s words were raspy and a little too quiet - he honestly looked like he was about to fall asleep right there and then. That’s what age did to you, or so Mualani could guess. She was experiencing the finest years of her life, after all.

Either way, Mualani had energy for both of them and then some, so she simply hopped onto the stage, a clear goal in her head. She prepared the drums beforehand, long before Mr. Lumai realized she had arrived. 

Only took one slip-up on the shiny floor before she was seated on the hard, old chair with drumsticks in her hand. 

See, her solo was like an old friend by now, with how much she had rehearsed it. The fast-paced rhythm welcomed her like one, too. 

It was… magical, seeing the fancy walls, plush red chairs, and old paintings while the unique sound of drums bounced off them, like something that didn’t really belong, but fit in easily. 

Didn’t take long before the sight was pushed to the back of Mualani’s mind, however. Her eyes fluttered closed as the familiar push and pull of her instrument enveloped her whole. 

The world slowly faded, and the earthly colors around her blended together. 

She was in the zone. The only thing that truly mattered was the response the drums gave her, and the kicks that seeped into her bones, becoming one with her very being. 

One and two and three and four-

And five? 

No, that was not how music worked. No losing rhythm now, stay focused, Mua. 

One more time. 

One and two and three and four, and one and two and-

Dum. 

There it was again.

Like an echo. But it couldn’t possibly be a response to her own doing. It wasn’t… predictable. Had no rhythm. 

Dum. 

Huh. Or maybe it did. 

Dum. One..

Dum. Two..

Dum. Three..

And one and two and three and- 

Bang.

Mualani immediately pulled away. The feedback was different this time, more akin to... a vibration than a distant reflection like the one before. Like someone was breathing down her neck. 

Her pulse quickened. 

What in the world…

She swallowed dryly and gripped the drumsticks tighter. This time, she only hit the drums once, hard. 

And-

Huh?

Nothing changed. Mualani could sigh and blame it on some weird acoustic loophole (if that even existed?), or so she thought. Because just when the tension in her body started to melt and the drumsticks left the white surface, a flash of blinding light stunned her, followed by a sound so loud it forced her back, her back hitting the floor. 

Drumsticks fell out of her hands, which immediately flew up to cover her ears. It hurt, oh, it hurt so much, the high-pitched frequency close to shattering her eardrums, it went higher and higher, please make it stop, make it stop, please stop-

...

Oh. 

Quiet. 

Maybe Mualani just lost her hearing, but everything had suddenly become muted. Just a buzzing hum that might’ve as well been the result of her imagination. 

Or maybe her hearing wasn’t lost, which - good news for a musician. 

How she ended up pressed against the wall, after being in the middle of the stage just moments ago, was beyond her.

With a soft groan, Mualani forced her legs to cooperate and clumsily stood up. What in the holy springwater had just happened? 

There wasn’t even proof that it happened in the first place, besides a purple mark forming on her elbow, that is. Yikes. 

She took a few uneven steps toward her instrument to inspect it, but the only thing out of place was the drumsticks, fallen on the floor. And, of course, the quiet zzz at the back of her mind. 

Maybe she just hit her head too hard? At the thought, her hand shot up to rub the sore spot. She must’ve crashed right into the column… probably that one right there. 

Turning around, her suspicions were confirmed by a bunch of messy papers lying around it. Huh. Weird. Some things scattered there weren’t even on the stage before. Like the schedule for the performances and Mr. Lumai’s old showman hat that he kept on a shelf nearby. 

How did Mualani even fall that hard anyway? Pushed by sound? That… sounded like something out of Ifa’s comics. Oh, wait, no. Not back. 

Her eyes focused on the whole image, the fog in her mind beginning to clear. 

She was never pushed back; she got pushed aside. The pillar was right next to the drums, not behind them. And the trinkets' positions made no sense either. 

Almost as if everything was made of metal, and that pillar was one big magnet. 

Mualani’s senses finally fully sharpened enough to register something brushing against her-

Something brushing against her back?!

In a split second, she whipped around, but the only thing observing her frantic movements was the empty stage and an unseen audience.

And yet, the feeling lingered - the cold sensation now caressing the back of her hand. It was crazy; Mualani was literally inside a theater, and the only plausible explanation for the goosebumps on her arms would be the wind. However, when she had last been outside, it had been sunny with no clouds or hint of wind. Besides, Mr. Lumai struggled to open the large windows backstage by himself, given his hunched, aching back.

A shiver ran down Mualani’s spine, and adrenaline flooded her veins. With a shaky hand, she reached for the red curtain. “Mr. Lumai?” she tried. 

As anticipated, no response followed.

After one last attempt to calm herself down (because she was totally freaking out for no reason!), Mualani willed her fingers to stop trembling and pulled the red fabric-

“Yo, Mualani!”

Namaka’s voice rang through the fog in her mind, alongside the slam of the door. Right. Band practice. 

Without inspecting the darkness, Mualani let go of the curtain and whipped around, putting on one of her best smiles. “Guys! Hi! I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Whatever that was could wait.

The moment to rock and roll had arrived.

Having eaten nothing but burnt toast for the entire day had its disadvantages, or so the churning feeling in Kinich’s stomach tried to suggest. 

Or maybe it wasn’t nausea mercilessly turning his gut upside down as he was walking down the streets.

With every step closer to the ‘small café’ Mualani picked for their… meeting, the remains of his singular meal burned, reminding him of the inevitable situation he willingly bestowed upon himself. 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to spend the time with Mualani, he just… didn’t know how. 

They haven’t spoken properly since what, middle school? They’ve been tight back then, but growing up, both undoubtedly changed and drifted apart, day by day. 

(Even though Kinich’s gaze always strayed back to her. Never meant for anyone else, as Ifa liked to remind him.)

At the thought of his friend, Kinich had to fight a sigh; he had received many instructions on how to survive this, though his gut was telling him it was best to do the exact opposite. Especially taking Ifa’s past experience into account. Or rather, lack thereof. 

Within a minute, Kinich stopped, looking up as the café stared right back at him. He observed it slowly, like the brave man he was. Never had been there before, but a certain kind of warmth was radiating off the golden pillars set between the stone walls. Of course that was the place Mualani would pick. 

The thought put his soul at ease, just slightly. After all, Mualani still felt like the same bubbly girl from a bunch of years ago whenever he talked to her these days. She wouldn’t change just because they were meeting voluntarily. In a café. As a pair. 

No, like a duo, not a pair. 

Discarding the concerning train of thought, Kinich took one step closer to the fancy-looking door with a polished-glass rimmed by green wood. He could peek inside now; it had gotten easier to decipher the faces of people seated in the plush burgundy chairs.

Amongst them, she was the one Kinich had noticed first - to be honest, it was hard to miss the blue hair. 

Mualani was sitting right there, comfortable in the comically large armchair. That familiar smile was playing on her face - seeing it made something in his chest spark. From the view through the nearly shining glass, Kinich could clearly see her leg frantically jumping up and down under the table. Her back was slightly hunched and tilted to the side, while her hands played with the napkins, brushing over the pink, imprinted hearts there. 

Looking at her, something warm and almost liquid-like filled Kinich’s chest to the brim. It was overwhelming, uncomfortable, and far too hot, burning his lungs and urging them to ask for much more oxygen than necessary. 

Perhaps he should actually do something. Yes. Sounded reasonable.

The universe worked in funny ways, though (especially when it came to Kinich’s life).

The very moment his hand landed on the handle, it hit. 

A razor-bright sting shoots down his spine.

Not the soft, twitchy spider-sense he gets when an elderly lady strolls through the road with no care in the world. 

No.

This one was sharp, hot, and urging, like an army of agitated bugs making their way up his back. 

His instincts kick in immediately. Just as the dreadful silence around turns into a crowded chaos, his body turns around in a rush, eyes widened. 

A force rippled through the street, rattling bus-stop signs, sending pigeons exploding into the sky like confetti.

The café windows shivered behind him. People screamed, chairs scraped. 

And yet, Kinich stands glued in place, heart pounding against his ribs.

The old wall of graffiti opposite him started cracking on its own, a stripe of blue-violet light flickering behind it.

Inside it, something moved, pressuring the crack to open.

Until-

The remaining bricks crumbled, forcing the boy to step back and shield his face with his arm. People who were trying to flee from the café stopped behind him, running back inside instead with horrified gasps. 

Four half-metal, half-organic limbs - slick, jointed, snapping like angry insect legs - slammed against the shimmering tear and forced a silhouette out of it.

Kinich moved in an instant, tugged his hoodie off, and carelessly threw it away to reveal the costume underneath. His hand reached out as the other one pulled his mask on. A split second later, he was in the air. 

Because out of that crack…

Otto Octavius emerged.

Well. 

A strange replica of him, anyway.

Because the real Otto Octavius was dead, and definitely not a scorched, glitching, and furious problem in the present. 

Just as Kinich landed on the side of the building close, his eyes glanced around wildly - confused, dangerous, locked onto the first person in sight. 

Which was, of course, the one in a literal Malipo suit.

“You,” the doctor’s copycat snarled, his voice like a distorted radio. “You dragged me here-?!”

Kinich had no chance to respond as one of the arms lunged at him, snapping in the air like a whip.

He cursed under his breath, jumping off the wall and spinning in the air. The second arm was already centimeters from his face as soon as he landed back on it, and his heart froze in his chest - 

“Non!” 

A shiny web, so distinct from his own, wrapped around it and changed its direction, causing it to just barely miss Kinich’s neck. Losing his balance, he quickly jumped down.

In front of him, a person with a familiar frame and a very theatrical costume in the shades of blue waved at him. Above, a glass cracked, well signifying the entrance of more controlled chaos; Alhaitham swung over, his leg precisely aimed at the doctor’s face. Missing wasn’t an option, of course.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through Kinich’s veins as the two other spiders landed by his sides. 

“There are three of you now?!” The copycat growled. He wiped at his bloody mouth before lunging at them.  

The two organic arms squealched disgustingly, slashing the air by Kinich’s head. Alhaitham jumped into the air. Furina followed him soon after, yet the limbs kept bothering him, thus taking all the time to check the others’ plan. 

Their speed was far too quick for him to do anything else but defend himself, jumping up onto the nearby walls and doing somersaults in the air.

That was before the ground shook again, though.

Even the doctor seemed surprised; his head whipped in the direction of what was presumably an explosion. 

Furina suddenly appeared back by his side, but only for a split second, as she used the surface to launch herself at the burning building, too. 

Kinich’s eyes followed her, and a sense of dread crept up his neck. 

The café.

In shreds. 

Panic and the thought of Mualani Mualani, the people hid inside, so she probably never left that café, clouded his senses. 

He immediately jumped forward and swung toward the café, following Furina. The clunking of metal didn’t hesitate either, forcing a curse out of Kinich’s mouth. 

The smoke overwhelmed his senses, burned his nose and eyes, but he pushed through it. Furina was already inside, using her sparkling webs - which seemed almost made of water, as strange as it was - to… put out the fire? Trap it between them until the path was cleared, that’s what it was. 

He ran further into the building. 

The once well-placed furnishings were scattered everywhere, with people hiding here and there, at best.

“Malipo!” a weary voice called out, and he whipped around to find a young blonde woman stuck under a fallen pillar, with a little weeping bundle in her arms. His chest tightened. 

That’s what he hated about this job the most.

As quickly as he could, he scurried over to them and took the fragile baby out of her arms. “Furina!” he yelled to the smoke, but no reply echoed. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered under his mask. “You’ve been alone this entire time.” 

“I’ll be right back, yeah?” was what the woman got to hear. With no time to waste, he hurried out of the café. A wave of relief washed over him when his eyes spotted a familiar firefighter truck. 

Not bothering to even look into the eyes of the fireman, he shoved the breakable human into his eyes and turned on his heel, rushing back inside. 

Malipo was in complete control now, even with Kinich’s voice asking about Mualani every three seconds. 

He shoved those whispers down and found the fallen pillar. The woman was crying, trying to free herself. Which, obviously, was not the best choice. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. We will get you out of here, okay? There is help outside, you just… You just need to stop moving now,” Kinich murmured, attempting to sound as reassuring as he possibly could.

His eyes were already scanning the surroundings, his brain inventing thousands of concepts, yet only one could work.

Thank the Ancient Archons that he liked Physics. 

Using his abilities, he stuck to the wall opposite the fallen pillar - no matter how unstable - and shot webs from either of his hands, anchoring them around the pillar at uneven angles.

He didn’t try to lift it. That would’ve been impossible.

Instead, he pulled—just enough to shift the weight.

The moment the pillar was high enough, the woman crawled from underneath and, apparently too scared to care about her injuries, ran out of the café. 

Kinich let out a sigh of relief, and the pillar fell back, shattering in most places. 

Nevertheless, catching a break was not realistic.

Not now, not ever.

A dark, swift figure that was neither the spiders nor Octavius rushed past him at unbelievable speed. 

Usually, he wouldn’t bother, since he couldn’t even register its features, and the tricky play of shadows wasn’t unusual in places like these.

There was something he could make out, though - the blue accented by the bright orange of Mualani’s eyes, wide with fear.

He froze in place, panic clouding all of his thoughts.

Before he could move, a sharp tug at the back of his mind stopped him. He obeyed the order to turn and face the mechanical arm rushing toward him. 

His instincts became muted. 

After over a year, his senses numbed.

The world slowed down, and the smoke finally started to settle in his lungs.

The prickly tension at the base of his spine stopped pushing. 

And the arm had a clear path, suddenly much faster than before.

Kinich’s mind cleared a second too late, and although his body attempted to move away, it seemed much more difficult than before. Almost as if he wasn’t Malipo anymore, just… a teenager in a fancy costume. 

A hoarse yell cut through the static in his mind. “Watch out!” 

In a flash, a bigger body was covering his now; arms spread out, a groan forced out of its chest. Considering his speed, Alhaitham had no problem with his instincts. 

The newfound metal in his ribcage may cause some, though.

As the realization sank in, Kinich’s senses finally sharpened again. He quickly jumped down and moved in front of the older man, whose torso now had one terrifying mechanical limb latched to it.

What was surprising, however, was the… nonchalant way Alhaitham himself went about it. The slumped way he was leaning against the wall didn’t say “I am in so much pain because something is literally attached to my chest in a rather painful way”, it was more of a “Kinich, you are an annoyance, and we will discuss this later, am I the only responsible adult here?” kind of body language. 

The “wound” didn’t look very… convincing either. Instead of the intruding arm being stabbed, the four claws just rested on his chest. Huh…

Kinich tilted his head, eyes flickering up to Alhaitham’s head again. 

Octavius - or the imitator, anyway - appeared to be confused, too, if the way he cautiously approached gave any clue about that. 

Kinich took a step back, shuddering at the powerful presence. His eyes nervously flickered between them and the broken doorway that had earlier served as the exit for the figure who was holding, unmistakably, Mualani. Alhaitham sighed, obviously irritating the doctor, who was just about to start barking. 

“Kinich. Go. Furina and I will take care of this.”

He didn’t need much more reassurance. 

As quickly as he could, Kinich used his web to latch onto the top of the doorway and swung inside.

It led to a staircase, or so it seemed. 

With all the smoke biting at the corners of his eyes despite the mask, it was getting harder to see - but the panicky feeling at the back of his mind was enough to fuel his legs, helping them to push up the stairs. At the speed, his lungs burned even more, though he pushed through, forcing his own body farther by clutching the hot railing by his side. 

The narrow hall around him seemed to tilt; only determination and the sight of a door swung open at the end of it were enough of a push for him to reach the top at last.

As soon as Kinich’s foot landed atop the now black concrete, sharp pain thundered through his chest and punched a heavy grunt from his chest. 

Only the tickling at the base of his spine forced him to lift his chin, glancing ahead. The pain was forgotten, then, and only the sharp pang in his gut remained. 

Haphazardly thrown on the ground in front of the opposing wall was Mualani, clutching her chest and supporting herself with her other hand. An obvious cut was on it, the dark red seeping through her clothes.

Kinich was never one to flinch at the sight of blood; nonetheless, the sense of dread that filled him then couldn’t have been avoided - not as much as the action he took before any conscious thought. 

His legs bent reliably, then pushed him across the room with the gloved hand outstretched. Mualani’s gaze lifted, her eyes widened, and then her head started shaking frantically. 

It was too late to realize that, amidst his hasty motion, he failed to recognize the quite lazily set up trap he jumped into like an unsuspecting prey. 

The time seemed to slow for a second, then it painfully sped up again as something quick and dull crashed against his side. 

The world became a blur before being snapped into place alongside the edged sound of something in his arm moving out of its place. The impact shaped into a razor-sharp ringing in his ears. 

Except the thing causing the audible agony wasn’t the harsh way he was pushed against the wall, but rather, the very reason he was held there, suspended in the air. 

Kinich’s sight cleared up within a moment, giving way to intense green light that consumed the room. His mind was hazy and weak, so it took a moment before it could realize the source, being nothing but the already familiar sphere of colorful shapes and fragments. The spikes sticking out were spreading, stabbing the hot air around, and coloring the smoke surrounding the big ball, which seemed to have started everything.

As the pressure kept pinning Kinich to the burned wall, he couldn’t do anything but watch its speed increase while the weight on his chest pushed more and more. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see the same dark figure that dragged both him and Mualani here, sneaking away through the leftover shadows. 

And before long, much sooner than his weakened mind could catch up, the light gave out, and the room went quiet. 

The feeling of silence was like a blessing, a soft caress, although it didn’t last long. No moment of respite ever did. 

Much like the quiet before the storm, this quiet, too, exploded into a piercing screech right when the sphere exploded, sending an invisible wave of force through Kinich’s body. The incorrect arrangement of his shoulder snapped back into place, followed by a sound he didn’t even realize came out of his own throat. 

The pressure gave out after, roughly dropping Kinich back to the ground. With no time to prepare, his knees suffered the impact. Nevertheless, this time, he didn’t get to soak the pain in. Not when his ears caught the sound of walls breaking and people screaming, with one particular yell closer than any other - Mualani’s. 

His eyes snapped up and caught the exact moment when the last bits of the pressure wave broke the side of the building that was already weakened by the fire. 

The wall opposite him crumbled down, the broken ground following suit. His body froze; his spider sense was probably still in that room downstairs. 

The last thing he saw before his world crashed into itself was Mualani’s pale face, now devoid of all its usual cheekiness, with only the ugly panic painted across her soft features. 

Too soft for death.

Chapter Text

A surge of adrenaline forced Kinich’s senses back into his body the moment the wall facing him snapped. Gathering the last bits of strength he had, he willed his legs to launch him into the air. 

His eyes stayed locked on the terrified look on Mualani’s face. His fingers stretched further, burning, when a ragged scream tore out of her throat, tilting Kinich’s world. 

His body was aching, but his mind was finally clear; he was so close. The building around him was coming down, the notion far too slow for his rapid heartbeat ringing in his ears. Spider-senses back in full force now, a comfortingly familiar sensation tickled his wrist; a web shot out, closing the distance between the two. But not fast enough.

Her hand reached for his, but the stretch wasn’t enough. The world around them collided, and an invisible barrier formed between them, falling down at a much slower pace than the ground approaching. 

He could almost see the concrete’s texture now. The horrified faces of the people standing below were becoming less blurry.  

Mualani’s back was dangerously close to the hard pavement. Tears slid out of her eyes and flew past Kinich as he drove forward. They were so close he could see the trembling of her lips - but far too far away for him to grab her. 

A sense of dread filled him. The uncanny feeling burned his stomach and flooded his lungs. His own lips parted, giving way to a raw, desperate sound. 

He could picture it nearly perfectly, Mualani lying in a pile of red she painted on the impact-

The sound of a clock tower not too far away disrupted his thoughts. The bell shook the ground once, twice - and with the third bang, the web finally latched on to the colorful fabric of Mualani’s sweater. With a frizzling rush bringing his breathing to a halt, he tugged. 

He tugged so hard that his shoulder burned in protest. He paid it no mind. 

With the ground just a few meters below, he willed their bodies to finally collide. His arm sharply wrapped around the curve of her waist, and within moments, they were both back in safe height. 

A new sense of adrenaline washed over them both. Mualani punctuated hers with another scream. The sound was unforgiving to Kinich’s ringing ears. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, just the path now clear in front of him and the grip he had on her. His mind was empty of thoughts, but filled with the leftover rush and panic turned relief. His body followed the rhythm it already knew well - the ups and downs of his swings, the zips and zaps as he let go of one web and shot out another. 

The sound of the old clock tower was what it chose to follow. Countless blurred faces turned into nothing but a sea of unimportance beneath them. 

When the final hit of the bell finished, Mualani’s frantic yelling subsided alongside it. The rush of the surrounding wind replaced them both. Kinich slowly started to get out of spider-mode, now acutely aware of just who he was holding in his arms. 

It was quiet, then. Albeit only for a minute before his feet (shaky and unreliable) landed atop the cold bricks of the clock tower’s top. The bell, just two arms’ lenght away, was still swaying slightly. 

The sun was just preparing to set. Not quite doing so, but it rested low enough to cast a bright hue over the opposing side of the platform. The columns were blurred in Kinich’s eyes, the adrenaline fizzling out - and the natural anesthesia with it. 

The pounding in his head returned with full force. His shoulder, complaining in the rhythm of his heart, joined in soon, and-

“Malipo?”

Well. Some leftover will to remain calm might’ve been there somewhere, after all. He whipped around, causing himself only more pain. 

“Yeah?” Shoot. No time for Kinich's voice, definitely not with his childhood friend. 

Mualani stood there, with no trace of her charismatic charm. Her fingers were shaky, fidgeting with the hem of her torn skirt with burned edges. Her hair was a mess atop her head, mascara smudged on her cheeks. 

It took her a little while to speak again. In that beat of silence, the sight of her like that, startled with wide eyes, sank in. It managed to bite into Kinich’s brain, the low hum in his mind distorting into a shriek. It was wrong, so wrong, she was never supposed to be there, she was there because he wasn’t fast enough, not cautious enough, oh, Archons-

 “Thank you, Malipo. I… I would totally be toast if you hadn’t come up there!” Mualani spoke up at last, halting all of his prickling thoughts. God, what was wrong with him? He was Malipo, not Kinich, for heaven’s sake. 

He cleared his throat, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit. “Yep… That’s what I’m here for.”

He could leave. 

He didn’t. 

Reason? 

Unknown. 

A… smile returned to Mualani’s face. A cautious one, but it was a smile. Kinich’s heart was going to beat out of his chest under all of these circumstances. 

“Thanks, really. I’m repeating myself, I know, but also…” The smallest hint of hesitation crossed her features. Her lips paused for a beat. “Is there any way that you’ve seen this, uh, guy my age? We were supposed to meet up, but...” she trailed off. 

Kinich was internally panicking. He was also silently thanking whoever had given him the idea to make a mask for himself. 

Mualani continued. “He usually wears hoodies, isn’t much taller than me, black hair with some dyed strands, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to notice them right away - they’re kind of washed out. Also, his eyes are, like, this very recognizable shade of green. Really pretty, I mean,” she hurled out. 

A very recognizable shade of green…

Right. Just focus on being Malipo.

“Y-yes, I think I saw one of my friends taking someone like that to safety, actually. Don’t worry.” His words barely overshadowed the sound of the wind, yet still managed to chase some of the shadows out of Mualani’s face. 

A weird, uncomfortable tickling spread in Kinich’s gut in an inconsistent, flashy manner. It reached his cheeks and ears, the skin beneath his mask burning. The silence that hung between them didn’t help one bit. It wasn’t awkward in particular, though, because the only thing Mualani could make awkward was Kinich. 

She decided to turn to him all of a sudden, as if sensing his misery. A beaming smile shone brightly on her face, now free of all fear. The tickling turned into a furious flame, but Kinich didn’t have the will to look away. He blamed it on his shaky legs, pounding bruises, wild heart, and blurred vision. 

“I owe you one!” were the last words of hers, promptly followed by a characteristic giggle. The weight of the silence shifted afterward, and both of them turned their eyes toward the burning sphere in the sky.

While Mualani simply watched the sky, most likely glad to be alive, a sense of something new filled Kinich.

Mualani’s heart could’ve stopped just moments before. But it didn’t - because Kinich spotted her fast enough. She was almost in the cold arms of death, yet she still found a warm smile for him, despite never having met Malipo before.

As the final leftovers of adrenaline left Kinich’s body, and the silence between the two settled, the tingles in his stomach turned into a pleasant warmth in the cold wind. 

Who would’ve known that a traumatic event could serve as a fuel this good? Seriously, the drive Mualani had since that’d been crazy. Even her bandmates seemed to think so. 

“Mualani, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Semino asked, slipping his bag over his shoulder. “I could barely keep up with you.” 

The bassist, Ruta, joined in. “Yeah, Semino’s right. Do you want to break the drums or something?” 

Mualani only let out a chuckle. They were right; her drumming was totally even more energetic than before. There were finally emotions she needed to pour out. She always used drums as a sort of outlet, but her life had been really boring lately. Guess falling down from a building and getting saved by Malipo was enough to change that.

Still… despite her growing fire, her drumming wasn’t the best - and she knew the reason already. That annoying echo in her ear persisted, even though she was convinced she just made it up at first. With every hit, it threw her off more than before, so…

“Hey, you guys go ahead, yeah? I’ll catch up with you at the café. Just need to make sure my solo is flawless!” she beamed, spinning one of her drumsticks between her fingers.

The response was the same as usual - nods and praises -, except the previously hesitant question in Namaka’s eyes was now stubborn in a very Namaka way. Once the doors shut behind the others, she took hold of Mualani’s arm. “Mualani.”

That made Mualani a tad surprised. Namaka was not the one for physical touch. Regardless, she felt none of that show, putting on an even brighter smile instead. “Yes? Is something wrong?” 

The other girl frowned. “No, I’m asking you. You’ve been staying behind every practice, even though you’re the best of us all. We all know you fell down from the top of that building, so if there’s-”

“No need,” Mualani cut in, her voice slightly firmer now. “I didn’t fall fall, did I? I’m fine.”

She didn’t want anyone’s pity. She wasn’t a victim - there were real people who got seriously injured in that fire. Her body barely got a few scratches, besides the stress, that is. 

Namaka seemed to notice the change in her voice (positive), although she kept the frown. “You sure? You do seem kind of on edge… We wanted to play at the school's fall prom, but weren’t sure because of your new lessons at the labs, and now-”

Immediately, Mualani’s mood transforms. Honestly. “Really?! No way, why didn’t you tell me? I’d love to play there!” Those words were, for once, not exaggerated one bit. The school’s fall prom had been a regular thing back when she was younger, but they stopped holding it because of an incident. She always admired the big kids playing onstage. The thought that she could be in their shoes?!

“Now, I have to practice twice as much!” she topped it all with. 

A hint of relief crossed Namaka’s features. “Alright. But you should focus mainly on having fun. Maybe invite someone?” A knowing smirk punctuated her words. 

“Yeah, yeah, go away already!” Mualani retorted and playfully shoved her, which finally evoked a laugh. Ah. Good. Within the next minute, it was just her and the vast theater again. 

Namaka’s silly words caused an echo in her mind. The school prom, huh… Perhaps it was really time to live the dreams of her past self. She had already succeeded in the good-student part, at least when it came to science. The lessons for young students right AT the Alchemax were a great start. But when it came to her sappy teenage dream… 

Well, anyway, there were more important things at the moment. One of them was getting rid of that persistent hum that kept ruining her solo. She wouldn’t be having that.

With determination, Mualani took the second drumstick into her left hand and walked over to the drums. No need to sit now. 

She brought them down on the white, used surface, in a regular, simple rhythm. Soon enough, the opponent took the bait. 

Dum, dum, boom, dum, dum, boom-

Bang. 

Oh. Now, that one was loud.

Mualani whipped around, a thrilling rush crashing down her spine. She stepped forward and finally pulled the red curtain away. Only to find… a whole load of black nothing staring back at her. Laughing in her face, almost. 

Huh.

The now-familiar rush gave her the courage, and Mualani entered the backstage area. There was nothing but the black shapes surrounding her. That, and… a strange vibration buzzing at the back of her head. As she walked farther, it grew. The sandwich she had earlier felt too heavy in her stomach all of a sudden.

Ouchies.

She persisted, though, definitely not willing to turn back now. When she entered the part of the building she hadn’t been to before, the buzzing got to a point where she felt it more than her own breathing. There was only darkness and shadows - except that Mualani could see quite well. That was strange, considering there was no light source in sight…

She turned around the corner, where she assumed the lights would be. Her breath hitched as her eyes locked onto what she was seemingly looking for - a metal door, blocked by a whole shelf and a couple of cardboard boxes. It looked nothing but out of place in the old room that no one even used anymore. And with so much dust literally floating in the air, it certainly didn’t appear as though a living being visited recently. 

Did Mr. Lumai even know about this room? 

A bad feeling began to boil deep in Mualani’s stomach. The hum persisted.

So did she.

With goosebumps covering her arms, she started to drag the boxes away one by one. They weren’t heavy, implying they were empty. All of them dropped to the ground with a dull thud, causing the tense knot in her chest to tighten every time. 

The door was a bigger obstacle. It had no apparent knob - just a metal handle across the entire width. A grunt fled Mualani’s lips as she pulled on it. Her arm muscles burned, but the pressure began to subside within a few moments. At least there was no lock, then. 

Finally, Mualani pulled the door open enough to see a dimly lit, narrow path behind it. Her heart jumped up into her throat when her ears caught the faint echoes of…

Voices. 

So the placement of the boxes was deliberate. 

Alright, then. Here went nothing. 

Taking a deep breath, Mualani slipped into the narrow path. It struck her as old and unused, although that guess had been ruled out by then. Her heart was doing somersaults in her chest, sending blaring alarms through her limbs where they dissolved into itchy little thrills. The feeling rippled in her fingertips when the voices guided her to another doorway. 

This one was open.

With people inside. 

The doubt that had previously just dusted her mind now spread like a virus, wrapping around her throat. All she did in response was clench both of her fists. 

She’d come too far to back off now. It was probably just a bunch of teenagers being where they shouldn’t, after all. Yeah, she was panicking for no reason.

“We just need to test it out properly now, then?” were the first words Mualani’s ears registered. Their meaning prompted her to finally slip into the room. 

It was dim-lit - the only source of light in sight was a flickering lamp. And, well, Mualani couldn’t get a better visual, since the first thing she did was throw herself behind the nearest desk. 

The intimidating, tall male and a strict-looking girl in a lab coat might’ve been the main reason for her currently panicked breathing. 

She kept her eyes fixed on the papers scattered on the ground, back pressed against the bumpy wood as the young girl replied. “I would hope so. Master kept refusing to let me implement it into our current model, and he also insists that it’s not to be built outside the Dome, says it’s too risky. I think that this theater is nearly the perfect spot, though.”

Footsteps. Mualani clasped a palm over her mouth when she felt them right behind the table. Mother of Archon, please-

“What makes this place only nearly perfect? Nobody knows about these old pathways.” 

Knew, because they had a small, non-threatening, totally won’t say anything, intruder in their room full of papers and beeping machines. Also, this did not sound great, hello? 

“There’s this drummer.” Oh. “She comes to play more often than the rest of those… musicians.” 

Three footsteps. Walking away now. Thank you, Mother of Archon. “The prototype reacts to her playing. I’m not quite sure why. Probably just the vibrations of the drums… It’s sensitive. Definitely counts as a complication just the same.” 

Prototype? What prototype? What’s that even supposed to mean? Is that what was causing the humming before? - Mualani’s head was buzzing again, for different reasons now. She slowly shuffled over to the edge of the desk. Now that they were further…

Right after peeking from behind it, the thought “mad scientist?” appeared in her head. Desks, at least two whiteboards, papers everywhere, and machines - those were all the contents. Oh no.

The girl continued, her wild red hair swaying as she started gathering papers in her hands. “This time, it’s going to work. I know he won’t let me try it for real until I have proven there are no issues whatsoever, but now that we have that thing, I don’t think we need to be so careful.”

“He worked way too hard to just stop being careful.”

“Fine, I get that. Why are you here again?”

“The upgrade plans.” His voice was a low rumble, concealed by the mask he wore. Thanks to both their back being turned, Mualani could watch the two figures while relatively safe. The red-haired girl looked pretty tired, especially with the clumsy way she’d been moving around. The man, on the other hand, genuinely made Mualani’s stomach churn. He was tall, dressed in black from head to toe. He was wearing a hood and a mask with purple accents, and his eyes glowed faintly, the same way the odd shape at his mouth did. 

Mualani was, however, stopped once again when the girl (scientist?) decided to approach the desk again. Thankfully, the sound of her pulling back at flashing speed wasn’t audible over the machinery. 

“I have all you need right here, friend. And no need to be so grumpy all the time,” sheets of paper rustled as she put them on the wood above Mualani’s head. “After all, our new Paradise is closer than ever.”

Oh. Definitely a mad scientist, then.

“Alright. How do we get the Spiders, by the way? They’re-”

“A complication, I know- Geez. Don’t worry about it. My little torture device is right…here,” she mumbled as her footsteps announced her renewed distance. “It’s not fully done yet. After we sent Otto back, it’s been behaving weirdly. I still have a feeling that those two suspicious women are behind it.”

“Master knows what he's doing... Anyway, I should get going. The blueprints are on the desk?” The man’s morphed voice was closer now. The perfect distance for Mualani’s heartbeat to spike up again. Partially because of the knowledge that she was about to be discovered, and…

“Yes. Please tell Master that everything is going according to plan.”

Also partially because she was stupidstupidstupid-

The uncomfortable thrill not only fueled her body as she abruptly got up to her feet, but it also tore a grunt out of her throat. Her eyes barely got to see the man freezing in front of her before her hand snatched the small stash of papers, and she whipped around to run.

Gods, run run run run run! 

She’d never run that fast before. 

She was probably dying as well - that’s what said the first thought evoked by the sound of heavy boots behind her. 

The man was faster; that much was clearer than the clearest weather at the Easybreeze Holiday Resort. 

To be fair, Mualani never should’ve gone down that narrow path.

Especially because it appeared twice as long when she ran back. 

Her legs burned, everything burned, and there were tears in her eyes, she was definitely dying, stupid stupid stupid girl, everything was blurry all of a sudden and there was a click behind her - despite not giving her any hint as to what deadly weapon it was, the distance between her and the guy chasing her it revelead was anything but comforting.

Because he was right behind her.

She needed to run faster. Like when she surfs. Faster, faster, as if it were a gigantic wave about to crush her. Come on! 

Her feet finally flew over the doorstep of the metal door. Without thinking, Mualani’s hands grabbed the nearest object - an old candle holder, or so it looked like - and threw it behind her without a glance.

Apparently, the luck was on her side for once. Her emergency weapon had reached its target with a thud and a low groan coming from the enemy. 

The success only fueled her body. Without slowing down, Mualani ran out of the backstage area and jumped down from the podium. As soon as her feet hit the old ground beneath, the red curtains rustled again - she’d never make it to the exit like that. 

Except perhaps she could convince the man that she did. 

Trying to make the least noise possible, Mualani hit the ground and rolled over, right into the dent in the stage. If she got lucky one more time, he wouldn’t look back. Please just run mindlessly… I’ll be fine without you…

He jumped down, and after not spotting her right away, he slowed down. His head moved from side to side like that of a predator, eyes presumably searching for her. 

Mualani shifted in an attempt to tuck herself deeper into the hole, but the only thing she managed to achieve was letting the messy papers slip out of her grasp. The sound cut through the tense air, causing Mualani’s heart to, well, definitely stop working now. 

The man paused. In fact, the whole world paused with him. 

Footsteps. Mualani’s eyes snapped open. She hadn’t even realized they fluttered shut. 

Her pursuer chose to... proceed. 

While that was good news, he knew she wasn’t out of the building. That essentially meant that she was…

…trapped. 

Mualani might just throw up, sob, and die - at least that was what the knot inside her gut instructed her to do then. She tried shutting it up by taking a deep breath instead. 

Step by step.

As the footsteps gradually quieted down, Mualani grasped the opportunity right away. Her fingers gathered the fallen documents. She tried to get the general idea even through the clouds in her brain, but it was all just pointless paragraphs of handwritten text, some printed. All except one sheet, that is. A legitimate-looking… blueprint. 

That one’s definitely important, no doubt, whispered the tiny voice in her head. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing it told her. 

A very, very bad type of fog crept into her mind, settling down heavy and dense. Something knowing screeched in her brain, the cold hands of fear clawing at her shoulders.

The world barely resumed breathing a moment ago, only to come to another sudden halt. Silence. Not the kind she’d been wishing for - the one more akin to one before a storm. 

Because the footsteps went quiet, too. 

And the light falling onto her face was gone. 

Slowly, like a statue frozen in time, Mualani lifted her gaze. 

Through a glowing mask, he stared right back.

It didn’t even take a second before claws dug into the delicate skin around her neck, undoubtedly leaving proof of the pain that shot through her body like an afterthought. 

Mualani’s hearing became muffled before the papers got to fall to the floor. With ease, she was lifted off the ground, feet dangling in the air. Besides that, her brain didn’t get to register much.

Only managed to overwhelm her with panic as she’d never felt before.

The edges of her sight went black in a merciless tunnel vision. Her chest should’ve been expanding, but all it did was tighten around the emptiness of her lungs. 

Hands that were probably hers started scratching and pulling back at the man, now blurred in her eyes. Anything they could reach, they clawed at. But all of that was in vain. 

Seconds stretched. 

Mualani would’ve counted her breaths as she usually does, but her throat suddenly didn’t seem to cooperate. Her lungs cried for air she’d never truly realized the importance of. 

Her vocal cords worked, somehow, although she hardly realized the prompt they obeyed. 

“Please…”

Dry lips wrapped around the word. It felt heavy, ugly, and wrong in her mouth, weighing down on her tongue before her mouth finally managed to spit it out. 

Then, hallucinations came. 

Mualani’s eyes fluttered closed, and she could almost feel the grip on her throat loosening. Her mind, still blurry, chose to simulate the feeling of her knees hitting the ground. No pain followed, proving the lie.

It couldn’t take too long now, then. 

She was slipping, falling. Not up - not down, either.

Falling, until…

A cough shook through her - shook being probably a word too weak for the spasm lighting her chest on fire. Electricity traveled down her spine and struck her stomach when desperate gasps and pants finally filled the empty space within her with air. 

Mualani immediately opened her eyes, coughs still shattering her body into a million pieces. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. Yet her hands already found a way to support her weakened body. 

It wasn’t hallucinations, was the realization slowly dawning on her.

Blue eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area. Mualani was still in the middle of the theater, lying between the red seats - but alone now. 

Well, he took the papers. 

Was that really just about the papers? 

Why didn’t he just say so?!

Accompanied by a small grunt, Mualani rose on her wobbly legs. 

Her head spun a little, mind racing and body desiring nothing more but to collapse, and yet…

There was someone who needed to see that one important-looking paper she tucked into her pocket right before nearly losing her life. 

And be assured, she wasn’t gonna get choked just to flee now. 

Bustling streets, scorching temperatures, loud merchants, louder costumers and a ton of people; that was the usual composition of Natlan’s streets. In the area around the center, where the old traditional area lay, time was still frozen back when technology was still in diapers. 

All of that aside, the three people who looked nothing alike definitely did not blend in. 

“Hold that thought,” Kinich jumped in when Furina took a deep breath right after spotting a clothes shop. “Alhaitham, you’re saying… Octavius is gone?”

The questioned man didn’t seem phased at all. “Precisely. He’s presumably back where he belongs.”

“Wait, so you saw two women? What did they say?” Furina chimed in, chewing on the candy she begged for earlier. 

“I haven’t talked to them, of course. They were gone before I properly approached- I caught something about how he’s back home, though. Besides, they were wearing suits similar to ours.”

That’d explain Alhaitham’s nonchalance, or so Kinich could guess. For him personally, the thought of more spider-people wasn’t appealing at all. 

“We should focus on finding them, then! If they know how to send someone back, I’m sure they can send nous back, too!”

The two males didn’t reply, letting the new findings marinate. To be honest, Kinich didn’t have a very good feeling about them. They possessed almost no facts about them, yes, but having the ability to send someone back? Wouldn’t that also mean… bringing them here in the first place? 

However, before the fresh information could properly sink in his brain, his mind latched onto something far more important; just as the group passed a sharp corner, his eyes immediately locked on the painfully familiar blue locks by one of the newspaper stalls.

Mualani. 

He froze in his tracks. Not because of the girl herself, but more so because of the frantic way she was speaking and moving her hands at the vendor in front of her. The disheveled state of her hair didn’t paint a nice image, either. 

The two of Kinich’s companions paused when noticing his state, just as Mualani’s voice reached his ears. 

“Come on, he’s always getting spotted here and there. You sell newspapers, so you must be a better help than anyone. I… don’t have any money on me right now, if that’s what you’re after, but… My parents always buy paper from you. I swear, I’ll pay you if I have to-!”

Her finger was shaky when she pointed it at the confused owner of the stall. “Please, it’s important. Malipo’s in great danger. We all are! He needs to see it!”

Maybe it was the fear in her voice that drove Kinich forward. Without thinking, he took a step toward her - so close to bringing a maskless Malipo to her. 

Fortunately, he wasn’t on his own anymore.

Watching Mualani, a sense of dread washed over him as a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

He turned his gaze up to look into Alhaitham’s deep eyes. His voice felt more like a vibration brushing Kinich’s body. 

“Mask. You and Furina get to the top of the Central Tower. I’ll bring her there.” A pause, and a glance at the frightened girl. “Something tells me this is only the beginning, and she’s playing the main role.”