CHAPTER EIGHT;
second time's the charm

iMESSAGE
AKIRA & AMALA
9:07 p.m.

AMALA
thoughts on gravity not
being real

AKIRA
what

AMALA
thoughts on gravity not
being real

answer the question

AKIRA
????????

AMALA
it's not

wanna know why

AKIRA
nah

AMALA
it's the government telling
you that it's real so they can
influence you and plant chips
in your babies

it's actually a construct and just
an illusion used to sway the masses
into submission

i mean do we have any proof ?
we can't even see it so how do we
know it's real ?? we don't.

we've just been fed these delusions
and been told to believe them but i don't.

i'm different. i see things. 

AKIRA
😀

bitch wtf

calling the ward

AMALA
bc i'm right ???

you're brainwashed

this is the government telling
you to think like this

AKIRA
damn

i guess i've been brainwashed

😖😖😖😖😫😫

AMALA
i can fix you

AKIRA
...

mala

sweetie

are u chewing ur meds again

AMALA
no

i'm just goated with the powrr of
extreme wisdom and hotness

AKIRA
idk about the wisdom part but

ur hot so i'll give u that

AMALA
aki 🥺🥺🥺🥺

thanks 😊

i try

AKIRA
but put ur energy elsewhere
and maybe try not be a dumbass

AMALA
maybe if YOU put energy elswsrw
you wouldn't be rhis fucking ugly

*elsewhere *this

AKIRA
BITCHH

take that back rn

i'm desirable

AMALA
*delusional

AKIRA
WTFF 😭😭😭

bye

AMALA
noooooooooo

aki i'm sorry 🥺🥺🥺🥺

meow meow please

AKIRA
no

AMALA
baby

baby baby

🥺🥺🥺💕💕🌈

AKIRA
ya 😖💔?

AMALA
i'm sorry 😔

pls forgive me i'll do anything

AKIRA
get me a hot bf

AMALA
something realistic

AKIRA
BITCH

AMALA
😭😭😭😭

AKIRA
i hate u send me psych
hw
read

AMALA
ok one sec

someone's at the door

AKIRA
at rhis hour?

hello?

amala?
read

ෆ

REAL LIFE
AMALA' S BEDROOM
9:24 p.m.

A THUMP AGAINST THE BALCONY DOOR SNAPS AMALA'S GAZE AWAY FROM HER PHONE.

She's sitting on her bed, books tossed into boxes as she puts them in piles to reorganize them on her bookshelf. Occasionally, she'd take a break and go on her phone, changing the music or texting Akira in this case.

She looks up towards her balcony door and her heart skips a beat.

Rising slowly, Amala pads against the carpet towards her dresser and grabs the oversized jacket hanging against the knob. Slipping it on, she spares a quick glance at her own bedroom door. It seems like her parents didn't hear the knock, so the coast is clear.

In a quiet motion, Amala opens the door.

Chilly April air washes across her face and she tightens the jacket against herself.

She hesitates slightly before stepping out.

Shifting her gaze left then right, her eyes catch the form of a human figure. He's crouched in the corners, staring towards the bustling streets. Amala know he's wearing skin-tight clothes because he has a smooth figure and no baggy shadow.

Is it him...? her heart sways.

"Uh- hello?" She asks wearily.

The man turns around and rises. There's an odd thing about the way he stands, like he's unsure or it requires to much effort.

"Hey, Amala," he says and Amala recognizes his voice almost immediately. Spider-man.

Familiarity seeps into her bones. Despite only speaking to him once, his voice seems so known. She can't put her finger on it but it's a nice sound.

"Oh, hey! You're back," she says rather excitedly (though she can't quite understand why).

"Hey..." Spider-man says quietly. "Sorry, I know I'm probably bothering you but," he coughs. "I didn't know where else to go."

Amala looks at him in confusion. "What? Are you okay?"

"Not really," he says, voice thinning. "Just a little tired and-" he cuts himself off, coughing in a series of heaves and chokes.

Amala rushes to him and her hands seek the tips of his shoulders. Cold palms meet spandex-like material. It's smooth and soft like silk and when she goes to rub against it, her hands glide against the surface.

"Are you hurt?" Amala asks wearily.

"Only a bit,"

"Okay. It's okay. Come inside." She tells him as she gently guides Spider-man into her room.

The raven has Spider-man's arm slung over her shoulder as she walks him inside. There's a throbbing pain at her waist and it feels as though her muscles are being ripped apart, but she swallows it in favor of helping him inside.

There's a rampant feeling of fear running through her at this moment; her parents are home.

If she gets caught by her parents... she doesn't even want to think about it. What will they do? Not only is she sneaking a man into her house who's a stranger, but he's also a famous crime fighting hero. How would she ever explain that?

Spider-man's foot catches against the door and he trips against the wall in a loud thump.

Amala's heart falls right out of her ass.

Her grip on him wavers as she steadies him once more and she freezes in an attempt to see if her parents are going to question the noise.

They stand in silence for several seconds as Amala slows her breathing to fully hear everything around her. Spider-man weakens by the minute and he leans into her more and more.

Amala grunts lightly in pain before deciding that the coast is clear and she can properly allow him into her room. Walking slow steps, she seats him into one of her beanbags near her bed. Although she'd rather be level with him, like on her vanity chair, she also wants to make sure he won't be seen quickly — should her parents walk in.

"Okay, just sit tight for me, okay?" She tells him. "I'm going to get the Med-Kit and a spare change of clothes for you."

He sinks into the beanbag, head nodding to the side.

He doesn't appear to be bleeding excessively this time and for this, Amala is grateful (cleaning blood stains off her carpet was an absolute nightmare. She's glad it won't be a hassle this time around).

"Hmph..."

"Shhh," she tells him quietly, still crouching besides him. "I'm coming back. Two minutes. Don't you dare make a sound." She pleads with urgency.

The hero nods gently.

She gets up and walks up to her door. Before opening it, she steadies her breathing.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

She repeats this several times until her nerves calm down. With that, she walks out of her room and walks towards the bathroom. Amala tries her best to be unnoticeable to avoid any questions that she may struggle to answer.

Peering out of the hallway, she sees both her parents sat on the couch, watching TV and on their phones.
They seem occupied — thank God.

Amala flicks the bathroom light on and opens the cabinet. She quietly pulls the Med-Kit out, making sure to put back any misplaced pills. Once she makes sure that everything looks to be untouched, she closes the cabinet and walks out the bathroom, flicking the light behind her.

"Amala, is everything okay?"

The girl in question jumps back in surprise.

It's her mother.

"God, you scared me." She chuckles as her heart beats erratically.

"Sorry, Hayete." Her mother says apologetically, using her other nickname (meaning "my life" in Arabic). "What do you need the kit for?"

Amala looks down and her fingers fumble against the plastic. "Oh, Akira wants to draw a realistic version of a Med-Kit and she couldn't find references online so I offered to model it for her." She says quickly.

She's taken aback at how dumb the lie is . Her mother seems to buy it though, so she metaphorically pats herself on the back.

Her mother gives her a pensive look for a moment before saying, "alright. Make sure to put everything back. Don't touch the gauze if you won't use it."

The raven smiles in relief. "Okay, mama. No problem. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hayete. I love you."

"Love you, too."

With that, her mother turns around and walks back to the living room.

Turning back around, Amala lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her heart is still racing after that encounter and it makes no point to calm down, even once she's back in her room.

With utmost caution, she shuts the door behind her, walking towards where she left the wounded hero.

He appears at the base of her bed, body still sluggishly laying on her beanbag.

Amala's chest feels heavy.

"Hey," she tells him in a whisper. "I'm back. Here's some clothing to change into." She adds, pulling out a separate set of large sweatpants and a shirt.

"'M sorry, I never returned your clothes..." Spider-man mumbles.

"It's not worries. You can keep them." She says, handing him the clothes. "Go ahead and change, I'll turn around for you."

Taking the clothing, Spider-man slowly rises and slips his suit off.

Back turnt to him, Amala feels goosebumps of deja-vu spread across her skin. Once again, she finds herself in this position: tending to a hero in the dead of night, within the vicinity of these four walls.

Beyond a feeling of remembrance, Amala also finds herself feeling scared. However, it's not a bad thing — not this time. This feeling of fear... it feels exhilarating. Here she is, hiding a boy in her room — who happens to be a hero — while her parents are on the other side of the wall. The thought makes her stomach tighten but it's accompanied with some sort of adrenaline.

Something grimly exciting dawns on her. That adrenaline... she kind of likes it.

"I- uh..." a muffled cough breaks her train of thought. "I'm done."

Amala quickly turns around and stares at the now somewhat familiar figure. Gray sweatpants, baby pink shirt, blood and a red mask.

Familiarity stands in front of her and the realization is startling.

"Okay," she replies, still remembering to keep her voice to a whisper. "Can you sit back down? Where are you hurt?"

The hero sinks back into the beanbag and his body immediately goes lax, limbs submerging into the fabric.

"I don't really know," he mumbles. "It just really hurts."

Amala drops down in front of him, opening the Med-Kit. "Okay, are you bleeding anywhere?"

"I don't - I don't think so."

"Okay," she begins to say before she catches scarlet drip against his collar bone. "Well, you are, just a bit."

She grabs a wet cloth she grabbed on her way out of the bathroom and gently tugs at his shirt before pressing it against his skin.

He immediately hisses at the temperature. "Sorry," he whispers.

"You're good,"

As she wipes the blood off, Amala notices his breath start to get erratic. It had lacked rhythm before — a product of his body being weak — but now it had amplified.

It was like he was panting, his breaths getting heavier by the second.

"Are you okay?" She asks him kindly.

"Hm? No, no. I'm okay." He says.

Amala replies in concern, "are you sure? You're breathing funny."

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. I - uh -" his inhales sharply. "Sorry, that just feels really good."

Her hand pauses momentarily, "what does?" Before resuming again.

"The cloth," He groans. "The cold. You putting the cold cloth on my skin. It's just - fuck."

Amala's mind does all sorts of things at that moment. More importantly, her body internally convulses.

In her fifteen years of existence, that might have been the most attractive thing anyone has ever said to her face.

Something about the way he whispered it, in an exasperated whimper, has her mind reeling.

Her cheeks heat up into what she thinks would be a shade of deep red. She looks up at him with disbelief mixed with pure elation in her eyes.

She has no idea if he meets her stare but it doesn't matter. She quickly looks away and dips the cloth into the wet bowl, before resuming her task.

Dabbing at his skin, she cleans up the last bits of dried and fresh blood. Spider-man automatically reacts to the contact, tossing his head back and hissing.

As Amala spares a glance towards him, she sees the hero's neck flex, Adam's apple on show — his muscles are tense and his veins  cast a slight imprint against his skin.

Oh my god, she thinks to herself before closing her eyes and staring elsewhere.

Whoever the man behind the mask is, he has to be attractive. Amala just knows it must be true.

The raven swallows sharply and sets the rag down. "Alright, I think I'm all done."

Spider-man steadies himself again, neck no longer on display (much to Amala's dismay). "Oh, thank you."

"Of course," she smiles. "Can I do anything else for you? Are you hurt elsewhere?"

He takes a moment before answering "Uh - I don't think so."

"Okay," is all she says.

Both of them make no effort to move and it takes a moment for them to realize their proximity. As Amala was cleaning him up, it seems she got rather close to him — whether it was to see his cut better or due to her own bias is up for debate. Even then, she still remains close; her left hand between them, right hand on her lap, face very close to his.

Even though he's obscured by the mask, it doesn't make the moment any less intimate. She swears she can hear him swallow.

"What -"

"I should -"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Go ahead." Amala tells him, backing away slightly.

"Oh, I - uh. It's okay, you can go first."

The raven shakes her head, tongue stuck between her throat.

"Uh - I just said that I should probably go." He whispers.

Her heart picks up again, Oh. Right.

"Yeah, okay," she replies.

"I've kept you long enough. I'm sorry, again." Spider-man tells her sincerely.

"Stop saying sorry. Seriously." She breathes out. "It's really no problem, sir. I told you to come anytime you needed to."

Spider-man laughs under his breath, mumbling a thank you as he steadies himself. He lifts himself up from the beanbag with little help from Amala and leans on the wall slightly.

"I just noticed your hands... they're bruised." Amala says thoughtfully. "Can I get you anything for that? Ice?"

"No, no. It's alright. You've done enough." The hero tells her. "I have ice at home."

Amala picks up his suit and gives it to him. "Alright, if you're sure."

Slowly leaning away from the wall, Spider-man limps towards her balcony door, fumbling with the knob before sliding it open.

They both step out into the midnight air and the chill cools down Amala's blush from earlier. She inhales sharply, feeling as though she'd lacked oxygen for the past hour. Besides her, Spider-man walks towards the railing, jumping onto it and sitting, back to the bustling streets below.

"I know I've already said it but thank you. I really cannot thank you enough." He begins. "You've saved my life twice now."

Amala giggles and is surprised at the noise that comes out of her mouth. "You really need to stop with that. It's alright. You're welcome anytime, sir."

"Stop that," he says tersely.

"Stop what?" Amala replies in confusion.

"Calling me sir." Spider-man supplies. "It makes me feel old."

"Oh," she laughs. "Sorry. What should I call you?"

Spider-man huffs. "I'm not sure."

"Do I have to wait 'till next time I see you so you can come up with a name?" She jokes.

"Yup," he says and the faintest hint of a smile can be heard in his tone. "Guess you gotta wait."

Amala just laughs at that. "Okay, Spider-man. I'll be waiting, then."

Spider-man snickers. "See you soon, Amala."

She blushes. "Bye, Spider-man."

In a flash, he's gone. Nothing is left except for the moon that hangs in the sky and the ghost of a hero.

Amala sighs and her cheeks hurt from how hard she's blushing.

Shaking her head, she turns around and walks back into her room.

As she shuts the glass, she hears a knock on her door.

Her eyes widen.

"Zahra?" Her father asks. "Are you awake?"

She shuts her eyes, locking her balcony door. "Yes, baba. Come in."

Her father walks in and stands at the door.

"Why aren't you asleep? It's late." He warns.

"I was talking to Akira. We just got off the phone." She lies.

"While you were outside?" He asks her skeptically.

Amala takes a second to reply. "Yeah, why not? The weather is getting better and the moon was pretty."

"Was it now?" He smiles at her.

"Yes, I wish I got my telescope. Too late, though."

Her father laughs. "Yes, it is late. Get some sleep, Amala. You have school tomorrow."

"I know, goodnight, baba." She says.

"Goodnight, Zahra. Sleep well."

Shutting the door behind him, Amala is now alone in her room.

The raven relaxes her shoulders and bends down the grab the bowl and cloth from the floor. The once clear water is now a diluted plum shade.

She quietly exists her room, walks into the bathroom and quickly rinses everything out. She puts the Med-Kit back in its cabinet, closes the lights and walks back into room.

It's only once she finally settles into bed that the realization hits her like a train.

Holy fuck. He was here... again.

Grabbing her phone, she sends one text before falling asleep.

ෆ

iMESSAGE
AKIRA & AMALA

AMALA
he came back
delivered

— END OF CHAPTER 8 —

[ NOTE ]
and that's a wrap!

as usual, like / comment !!
support helps me out a lot :)

lots of love,

pearl <3