CHAPTER TWENTY NINE;
a kiss to make up for the destruction!

iMESSAGE
MAMA, BABA, AMALA
9:07 a.m.

MAMA
Omar can U get milk
on Ur way back pls

And flour

One bag pls

BABA
👍🏼

AMALA
i love you guys so
much

MAMA
We love U too

Are U ok? How's London

AMALA
i'm fine

london is pretty

BABA
❤️

MAMA
What is happening in
London??

I'm watching the news

AMALA
i love you guys

so much

BABA
?

MAMA
Amala what is happening

Where did U go ??

Amala
delivered

ෆ

REAL LIFE
LONDON
9:19 a.m.

Chaos.

Such a strong word yet its meaning rings true.

Everything around Amala is a giant cloud of destruction. Large smoke puffs across the sky like the breath of a dragon as water from the nearby canal sprays across the streets.

Running becomes useless at some point; there's no way to go that's safe. The class opts to staying in a sheltered side of the road until they're forced to move again.

At some point, they run under a tunnel.

Amala notices that everyone is going in an opposite direction but she's too immersed in her terror to care.

"This way! This way!" Mr. Harrington screams, his voice ripping at the seams. "Follow me, kids!"

They hurry after him, tripping over rocks and cracks in the cement.

Ned, Akira and Amala run side by side, making sure to mirror each other's pace as best they can.

"It's not real! It's not real!" Ned shouts over the chaos. He's trying to calm himself down more than anything, which in turn, does effectively nothing to lessen the fear coursing through Amala's veins.

As a result, Amala very loudly screams, "It looks real to me!"

"Shut the fuck up, Ned!" Akira yells at the same time.

All three of them share a look of guilt. Neither of them say anything, though — all is forgiven in the face of a wind monster, right?

As they break out into a more open street, the first real pang of nothing will ever be okay strikes Amala's core.

She's been so clouded by hero-bullshit and useless optimism that she's never taken the time to assess the facts. The first two times she'd been lucky. She was at the right place at the right time and knew how to act fast. It won't be the same this time. It can't be. No one is awarded the liberty of accidental survival three times.

She thinks of all the people who didn't make it the first and second time. They weren't even awarded the liberty of survival once. What makes Amala think she'd be lucky again, and again, and again?

Guilt mixed with sadness swirls in the midst of Amala's stomach.

Suddenly, her feet feel heavy and slow. Running becomes more of a chore than an immediate reflex. Everything gets so blurry and dull. There won't be another time to be saved, to survive... because she'll be dead by nightfall.

Frantic voices break through her barrier of depression.

Amongst them is Akira, Ned, Flesh and a foreign person.

"Ned!" The voice shouts in relief.

Ned turns to face whoever it is and his face breaks out into one of elation. "Oh my, God! Happy!"

Happy?

"I gotta get you guys out of here!" The voice — now identifiable as a male — beckons. "Get on the jet!"

Amala spares a glance at the owner of the voice and quietly looks him over. A short, round man stands before them. Pressed in a fancy suit that seems to have wrinkled around the joints, he looks put together yet slightly disheveled. With the circumstances at present, she barely focuses on that.

She can't stop herself from blurting out, "Who are you?"

He — or Happy, as Ned called out — blinks at her twice, as if he recognizes her. "I work with Spider-man, Okay?" He frantically explains. "Get on that jet!"

"You work for Spider-man?" Flash screams, fan-boy mode turned on.

Amala and Akira cast him a look that could burn down countries, repulsed by his show of priorities.

"I work with Spider-man, not for Spider-man." Happy corrects angrily.

His last words are cut off as a giant explosion shakes the ground beneath them.

Behind Happy, something erupts in flames. Rubble and heat spread across the expanse of streets and grass.

As Amala glances from Happy to the explosion, one terrible conclusion crosses her mind: that was the jet.

Happy recovers quickly and turns back to the teenagers in front of him. "New plan: in the tower!"

They break out into a sprint, no further convincing needed.

They cross another small tunnel into a more secluded part of London. Over here, the streets aren't completely littered with fleeing citizens.

"Into the Crown Jewel's vault!" Happy yells behind him. "Yeah, go! Go! Go!"

Akira grabs Amala's hand and gives a light squeeze.

Amala returns the squeeze and drags them onward.

Ned, who was just besides her, seems to now be a pace behind.

Amala casts a quick look towards him. "Come on, Ned! Let's go!"

As they near what seems to be the vault, Amala grabs Ned's hand and tugs him forward. The exertion sends a chilling ache to her back and she's once again reminded of her massive disadvantage.

Her back nerves erupts into a cacophony of pain, starting from the base of her tailbone to the top of her shoulders.

She silently yelps but suppresses any other noise. There is no time for distraction. Her suffering can wait.

"Go into the vault!" Happy shouts as they enter. "The walls are eight feet thick! Go into the vault!"

Everyone hurries inside, following Happy and entering a room full of old items.

Displayed in glass cases, large metal artifacts stand, lights casting a bright glow on them.

Amala barely has any time to admire them before the glass case on her right shatters.

Shards fall onto the floor and slash her arm. Amala feels something warm run across her skin.

She looks down. Blood.

Stinging pain follows and she hisses. She presses her other hand to the cut, applying as much pressure as possible.

Around her, more glass shatters.

Somewhere behind her, she hears someone shout, "Drones!"

Drones? Her mind inquires.

Then it dawns on her.

Mysterio is using illusion tech. Before, all these monsters were created with projectors spread across a certain area. Now that he has EDITH under his control, he can use the drones to create an even more accurate illusion.

Her mind gravitates towards Peter. She feels awful. How could he have known this would happen?

"Amala!" Akira shouts as she grabs her wounded arm and pushes her.

Right where she was previously standing, a drone fires a bullet into another glass case. A suit of rusted armor clatters to the floor.

"Take cover!" Happy shouts behind them.

Amala and Akira hide behind an intact casing, hand in hand.

Another suit of armor sits between the glass. In front of them, a metal ball with spikes on a dowel is hung on the wall.

Akira is shaking besides her. "Mala... you're bleeding."

Amala looks at her hand. Bright red coats her ebony skin. Her vision goes dizzy.

"It's okay," she whispers to her best friend. "It's alright."

Akira shakes her head. "It's not."

Amala is seconds away from bursting into tears as the events of today threaten to wash over her.

"It's okay," whispers Akira, soothingly. "It's okay."

Akira takes off a silk scarf that was wrapped in her hair as quietly as possible and gingerly takes Amala's bloody hand. She slowly wraps the silk around her wound, taking great care to make sure Amala doesn't wince and attract the drones.

Beyond them, heavy panting can be heard from the others. Amala catches Ned's eye from her peripheral — he's hiding behind a stone wall, away from the drone's view.

"Don't cry," Akira soothes. "Don't cry, Mala. It's okay."

Until that point, the raven hadn't even noticed her own tears. Hot, wet liquid clouds her vision and streaks along her cheeks.

She's in so much pain and she's so tired. Everything hurts; from her back, to her arm, to her head, to her heart. She wants to go home. To her mother and her father, to summer days at the beach with Akira, to new-found places with Ned and Peter.

"It's okay," Akira reassures. "It's okay."

Amala nods. It's not. But she nods again anyway.

She feels something tug at her arm and looks down; her arm is tightly clothed now. Red already stains through the satin but the amount is significantly less.

Amala grabs Akira's hand that's still resting on the scarf and kisses between her knuckles.

"Thank you." She mouths, her entire body shaking.

Akira nods and blinks back her own tears.

Harsh silence follows except for the drone's mechanical movements.

Second by second, it gets louder. It gets closer.

For all she knows, the drone could have some sort of sensor that can see through walls. It could have thermal coverage or a laser that detects human activity. It could have anything if you think about it. A multi-billion dollar piece of technology owned by a Stark — endless possibilities.

In light of this, Amala feels herself tense.

Whatever hurt she had in her body has regenerated into sudden anger. Weeks of unease and fear have Amala at her breaking point. She's unsure when exactly she's begun feeling like this, but the fire that courses in her veins grows hotter.

The spiked metal ball gleams from the corner of her eye.

The drone seems to grow nearer by the second.

She weighs the option in her mind.

Tick, tick, tick.

Oh fuck it, she thinks to herself. I've done worse.

With a single swift motion, Amala grabs the metal ball by its handle.

Startled by its weight, it almost clatters to the ground. However, Amala barely lifts it in time.

She catches the eye of Happy, who's hiding in another corner with Flash, who is watching her intently.

His eyes widen impossibly large and he shakes his head violently.

Amala ignores him.

Steadying her grip on the medieval weapon, Amala stares at the glass in front of her. The drone slowly cruises forward, its reflections giving way to its movements.

She studies it for a moment. She needs to act fast.

Amala inhales, then exhales and tightens her hold.

Three, two, one, she jumps out of her hiding spot and swings as hard as her hands will allow her.

A loud clang followed by a shower of sparks is the response she gets. When she looks down, the drone spazzes for a couple of seconds before letting out a strange reeling noise.

"Amala, let's go!" Akira drags her backwards as the drone continues spitting out sparks.

Amala stumbles and follows her best friend.

Everyone in the room has migrated backwards into another connected area.

Amongst Amala's misty haze, she watches the drone pick itself back up and spew a couple of haywire bullets before two large doors slam shut.

"Are we gonna die?" Ned says as soon as the doors close.

Happy stares at him sideways. "Nobody dies on my watch."

"Amala," Flash calls out. "What you did back there? That was fucking sweet."

"When did you get here?" She blurts out in response a little too harshly. "Sorry, um - thanks."

He gives her a terse nod.

She's about to say something else before a large slam sends them scooting further into the room.

"I wasted my life playing video games and we're gonna die!" Ned cries out in a whine.

"I should've hugged my mom and dad harder." Akira sobs quietly.

Amala reaches her wounded hand outwards and holds Akira close.

"I should've died the first time." Amala whispers to herself more than anyone else.

Flash seems eager to jump into these final moments of confession and cries out, "I post stupid videos daily for people to like me!"

"Hey," Happy interrupts him. "If it wasn't for those stupid videos, Spider-man would've never found you!"

Another bang breaks through the room.

"Spider-man?" Flash says in disbelief. "Spider-man follows me? I - I saved us, guys!"

"If you saved us, why are we about to die?" Akira screams.

"Akira!" Amala scolds even though she agrees with her best friend.

Akira flinches at the response. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just - I'm obsessed with being brutally honest even if it hurts people's feelings. I can't help it!"

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Happy spits out, "I'm in love with Spider-man's aunt!"

Amala's mind stops. What?

"We're sharing, right?" Happy mumbles in response to all the eyes on him.

"Right," Amala says. "Well-"

A huge pound shakes the door and actively silences Amala.

Some sort of laser begins slicing through the door; it draws a large rectangle in a sparking red.

Amala shudders.

An opening. That's what the drone is making.

This is it. This is really it.

"I love you," Akira sobs besides Amala, squeezing the raven's hand tightly. "I love you. I love you."

"It's okay," Amala soothes even though it isn't okay — at all. "I love you, too. It's okay."

The laser continues into the hard material of the door, sending a buzzing sound through the room as it goes.

As each second passes, it grows closer to completely the rectangle and any hope left drains from the people inside the room.

This it it, she cries between herself. I'm going to die.

She takes a final deep breath. One hand is clutching Akira's, the other is on the spiked metal weapon. Her head is crowded and desperate but some rationality within her understands that there's no way out of this. Not alive, at least.

She shuts her eyes as soon as the drone stops buzzing, as soon as the rectangle cut-out is complete.

Her heart is throbbing.

The cut-out clatters to the floor.

A singular tear falls from her eye.

Silence follows. The air has been reduced to nothing but a sponge for the absolute lack of noise. No one dares to even breathe.

When she feels nothing, Amala reluctantly opens her eyes.

Five drones stare at her, frozen in place. For a moment, time stands still. Then, in perfect unison, they turn on their heel and make a beeline for the exist.

Ned lets out a shaky exhale as the last one disappears.

Akira clutches Amala's hand impossibly tighter. So tight, the blood flow may cut off at any moment.

They're alive. How?

"Give me the spear," Happy says after a moment of confused and relieved silence.

Without missing a beat, Ned corrects, "That's actually a halberd."

"Can we-" Amala begins to ask before her question is indirectly answered.

Happy tugs the doors open and without much effort, they swing backwards.

The show-room appears once more, glass and antic armor on the floor.

Amala awkwardly walks out of the threshold, metal spike in hand. She blinks away tears.

"Whoo! Yeah!" Flash cheers in the quiet of the room.

Akira and Amala send twin death glares towards him.

He shrinks under their gaze.

Then it hits her: Peter.

Her heart rate picks up.

Is he alright? Is this really over? How can she know he's safe? All these questions trip over each other in her mind and her eyes dart across the room in a desperate attempt at warding them away.

It's no use. She needs to know if he's okay. Now.

Without thinking, Amala slips her hand out of Akira's and breaks out into a sprint.

"Where are you-" Akira questions before Happy interrupts her.

"Hey!" Happy calls from behind her. "Where are you going?"

She ignores him.

"Hey! Come back!" He calls again. "Spider-man has something for you."

She stops dead in her tracks.

"What?"

"Spider-man," Happy says, catching up to her and digging in his pocket. "This is from Spider-man."

A heavy chain with a pendent falls in her palm.

Without looking at it, Amala shoves it in her pocket, annoyed at the fact that this time could be spent looking for Peter.

"He wanted you to have this." Happy says.

Amala nods. "Okay."

She turns right on her heel and runs out of the vault.

Past the vault and into the street, she desperately dodges debris and cuts through turns. The attack has wreaked havoc on the London streets. Cement is ripped out of the floor, cars are toppled on top of each other, water is flooding the road. Nothing compares to the bodies, though. Charred and lifeless, people are strewn on the pavement. Their faces are petrified and Amala has to look away before her breakfast threatens to come out of her mouth.

She quickens her pace and keeps her eyes straight.

Her body is aching and after several moments, her breathing becomes incredibly labored and almost painful. Her nerves cry out in agony and her wrapped hand stings and feels numb. The heavy spiked-ball doesn't help either, as its weight sends a sharp sting into the lower region of her back.

Still, she keeps moving.

She's not even sure where she's going. Amala just knows that she has to find Peter — one way or another. Perhaps it's totally insane or just a case of her being a love sick teenager but Amala will not rest until she knows he's okay.

Nearing a giant highway — where the bus they'd driven in had been — Amala makes out a blurry figure in the distant.

On a limp, someone in black and red stumbles forward, cautiously weaving through the burning cars.

Amala's body aches but her heart sings.

"Peter?" She shouts, her voice coming out strained and withered. "Peter!"

The figure looks up and pauses for a moment before breaking out into a staggering run.

Amala mirrors him and sprints impossibly faster.

She ignores the torturous signals her body is sending and swallows many yelps of pain as she nears Peter.

A meter away from each other, Peter's face softens. "Amala..." He whispers in disbelief.

Her weapon clatters to the floor, forgotten and useless. Amala throws herself into his arms.

He stumbles back a step before steadying the both of them and clutching her just as tight.

Like a cracked dam against a ravenous wave, she sobs.

Her arms wrap around his neck and her whole body melts into him. Warmth and sickness radiate from the both of them but pressed together, all that seems futile. He smells of ocean and smoke and his body trembles against her. Above all, he feels like him, and that's enough to shower Amala with newfound hope.

"Are- Are you okay?" She asks into his neck.

His grip tightens and he takes a large inhale into her shoulder. One of his hands sinks into her waist, satin sending a tickling sensation through Amala's body. The other is clutched at the base of her neck, a fistful of hair in the tight of his palm.

"I'm okay," he responds close to her ear. "Are you okay?"

Amala can barely speak as her senses overwhelm her. All she can muster is a simple, "Mhm."

"Good, good." He soothes, his hand threading through her hair. "Is everyone else okay?"

Amala gives him another hum.

"It's okay, it's okay." He repeats once he notices how bad Amala is shaking. "I got you, baby. I got you."

Amala feels her gut burn at the pet name and she presses her lips to his neck and shudders.

Peter leans into her. "It's okay. You're okay. What happened?"

Not breaking away from him, Amala quickly runs through what happened. Her thoughts are all over the place and it translates into her sentences as she cuts herself off and stammers. However, by the end of it, it seems as though Peter understands.

"And like - all of a sudden the drones just... stopped." She finishes. "Was that - was that you?"

Peter nods into her neck. "Yeah,"

She pulls back from Peter's embrace and looks at him. "Did you get him? Did you get M-Mysterio?" She asks, her hands still embraced by his.

"Yeah," he says somberly.

Only now does Amala notice the damage his body has endured.

Covered in burns and gashes, Peter's suit is tattered and fraying at the seams. It looks different from his usually get-up — it looks sharper and its colors as slightly different. Beyond that, his face has taken a harsh blow too. A large scratch is on his right cheek and it drips crimson. His nose is bloody, his lip is busted and his eyes are watery.

Her heart cracks.

"Oh, Peter..." she cries, her hands on his cheeks in an instant. "What happened?"

He instantly melts into her hands and his eyes shut.

"It's okay," he says, panting. "It's fine."

Amala just shakes her head as more tears falls on her cheeks.

When he opens his eyes, Amala is already looking at him, her face full of emotion.

For a moment, they share an unexplainable glance. Fireworks dance in their eyes.

Then, his face breaks into a soft smile.

"What's that you brought with you?" He asks.

Amala turns around and stares at the weapon on the floor. "Oh. I - um... I brought it in case you needed help." She jokes sadly as she smiles.

Peter nods and chuckles. "Thanks."

"No problem." She gushes.

Suddenly, she remembers the pendent.

"Oh," Amala starts. "Um, some guy in a suit called Happy gave this to me." She digs into her pocket and pulls out the pendent. "He said it was from you."

Peter's face dissolves into a look of pure heartbreak once he seems the item in her palm.

Amala studies him before she looks down. This is her first time actually seeing what Happy gave her.

Her heart soars.

In her hand, a stunning gold chain with a sun pendent reflects the chaotic fire around her. It's about the size of a coin and it glimmers enchantedly, its rays curled with perfection. However, three of its rays are broken and lay in Amala's hand. Still, it doesn't erase its beauty.

"No," Peter whines, his voice sad and regretful. "Amala, I'm so sorry. Fuck! I had this stupid plan-"

"Peter," She whispers.

Peter's voice breaks. "I wrote it down and I was going to buy you this and give it to you in Paris and I -"

In a moment of erratic impulse, Amala surges forward and silences Peter with a chaste kiss.

She pulls back and watches nervously, suddenly aware of her action.

He looks at her with disbelief. "...and you kissed me..."

"I'm - I'm so sorry," Amala rushes. "I shouldn't have done that without asking! I - I'm... fuck."

"No- Amala, I-" he pauses. "It's okay. I... I've been waiting for you to do that."

"Oh," is Amala can say. "oh."

With this sudden confession, Amala musters all the courage in her body and says, "look, Peter, I need to tell you something."

He eyes her wearily. "Okay..."

She looks away and takes a deep breath.

Just say it, she tells herself.

"I like you." She professes, her stomach in knots. "I really like you."

"I- I like you, too, Amala." He chuckles softly.

"No, Peter. I like you." She says again. "Not in a friend way. I - I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."

"Amala," he says again, his smile beautiful as ever. "I like you, too."

She pauses. "Wait, really?"

He laughs. "Yeah! I've liked you for a while. Since - since sophomore year."

She visibly deflates and her stomach erupts into a cacophony of fluttering butterflies. "I'm - yeah. Okay, good."

"Great," he says as his cheeks turn a neon shade of pink.

Amala looks down in embarrassment. "I love the necklace, by the way. You know how much I love-"

"The sun." He finishes for her. "I'm sorry it's broken."

Amala shakes her head. "It's okay. I love it either way." She smiles.

"God, I really like you, Amala." He mumbles, his voice still shaking from all the events of today.

"I really like you, too." She replies. "I mean - I turned down Spider-man for you," she chuckles. "so..."

He grins and looks away. "Yeah. I didn't think he - I mean, me - like, Peter had a chance. So, I thought that-"

The raven shakes her head. "You had a chance. You always did."

When he smiles at her, the whole world fades away. Like a silver mist, everything around her becomes trivial. Right now, it's just her and Peter, locked in a universe of their own making. Hurt and chaos doesn't exist in their little pocket of lust. It's just them and their racing hearts.

Instinctively, they begin inching close to each other. Closer and closer until nothing except for air separates them.

Their lips meet first in a quick peck and they pull away with matching flushes to their face.

Amala sharply inhales.

Peter deeply swallows.

They meet again and this time, their kiss lingers.

Gloved fingers sink into her shoulder and hair. Soft lips pry hers open and passion seeps between their pores.

Amala drapes her arms around Peter's neck. She clutches the hair at his nape and presses herself further into him, desperate to be close to him.

He responds to this by bringing himself even closer — if that's even possible. He kisses her with tenderness and meaning. He kisses her with intent.

It's true what they say: sparks do fly when you kiss someone you like.

Peter tastes like salt water and lavender petals. His lips are soft and gentle. He is beautiful and perfect, and Amala feels her entire body melt. She's like putty in his hands and just when she thinks it can't get any better, Peter deepens the kiss.

Her hands clutch his hair even tighter and he moans quietly.

Like a match to an ocean of gasoline, Amala is set ablaze.

"Be my girlfriend," Peter quietly mumbles into the kiss. "Be mine."

"I want to be Peter's girlfriend first," Amala breaths out as Peter kisses the corner of her mouth. "Spider-man's second."

"Okay," he replies. "Be Peter's girlfriend, please."

"Okay," she smiles into the kiss. "I'll be Peter's girlfriend."

He pulls away and looks her in the eye. "Okay, Peter's girlfriend. Spider-man will ask you out later." He chuckles, smile from ear to ear.

"Okay, Peter, Amala's boyfriend." She grins and kisses him again. "I'll be waiting."

— END OF CHAPTER 29 —

[ note ]
this. fucking. chapter.
😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖

i'm sooooo sorry for the
ridiculously long wait 💔
this chapter absolutely
killed me — it was so hard
to write.

i'm glad it's finally over :')
now we can go back to my
usual (shorter) update
wait ^_^

thank you for all the love and
for being patient !!!

see you all soon,

pearl <3