CHAPTER TWENTY SIX;
so it's you.

AMALA DROPS HER PHONE ON THE BED AND LOOKS TOWARDS THE DOOR. For a moment, she stills. Her eyes seer holes into the wood as she waits.

Seconds later, a knock sounds from the door.

Her eyes widen. She didn't actually think he would come — not after all that's happened today.

But her feelings towards his safety do not change and she rushes to the door.

She takes a deep breath and weighs her thoughts. Pat of her is angry — furious even. Once again, she put her trust into Peter only to have it stepped on. It's ridiculous. Each time, Amala feels like a larger idiot. However, the other part of her is relieved and overjoyed. He's safe and regardless of her disagreements with him, that comes first.

She sighs and opens the door.

Outside, Peter stands nervously, his hands playing with the strap of his backpack. His face lights up once he sees Amala and he smiles softly.

Despite her relief, her face remains stoic. Yes, she is grateful he's alright but it doesn't mean she isn't angry at him.

"Peter," she addresses quietly.

"Amala," Peter swallows and looks away.

Her throat feels tight. "I'm glad you're alright."

He looks back at her. "Me- me, too. I was - uh - I was worried."

"Were you?" Amala practically barks, bitterness to her words.

Peter lets out a shaky breath and tightens his hold on his bag. "I deserve that," he mumbles. "But, yeah. I was."

For some reason, the raven regrets her little outburst. Still, she remains strong; she's too angry to take it back.

"That's nice, Peter." She starts off, crossing her hands to her chest. "So was I, you know?"

"I know and -"

"No. You don't know." Interrupts Amala, suddenly tired of formalities. "Do you know how shitty it feels to be blind-sighted by you again?"

Peter's eyes scrunch in regret. "I'm sorry, Amala. Really. I -"

"Are you sorry?" She says, her voice getting a bit louder. "Are you? How many times has this happened? I finally feel like we're okay again and then you disappear on me! Not only that, you disappear in the middle of a fucking catastrophe!" Amala finishes, her voice shaking with anger.

"Amala, I promise I have a reason. I really do. I - I don't do this on purpose." Peter says, his voice apologetic. "I'm really sorry. You mean so much to me."

Amala let's out a quivering sigh and looks off into the hallway. She really doesn't like this. She wants to be angry — no, she is supposed to be angry. Commitments or not — Spider-man or not — it's not okay. She deserves more than this. But, God, when he opens his mouth and speaks the way he speaks, it's like all the anger in her bones dissipates. Every time he expresses that he cares, that she means so much to him, her whole body goes pliant.

The heart is such a funny thing, really. It sings the loveliest melodies when he's around. But it also cracks under the same sounds.

Her laugh comes out sad. "Yeah, you say that. Then you go and do shit like this. I don't believe you."

"That's not-"

"What do you want, Peter?" She interrupts, her eyes threatening to well up. "What do you want from me?"

In front of her, Peter takes a shaky breath and stares at the ground.

For a moment, neither of them do anything. They simply stand still and face each other, expressions filled with a myriad of hurt, want and questions.

The silence is impossibly loud; it could be slashed clean with a butter knife.

Amala's nerves get the best of her. "If you're not going to say anything, you can leave. We're not allowed to be out of our rooms-"

"Can you come outside?" Her blurts out.

"What?"

"Can you come out and talk outside?" He asks again, slower this time. "Just for a bit around the hotel. I promise I'll keep you safe."

Amala furrows her brows at him. She'd be a fool to accept his request after all that's been said. On the other hand, this is her only chance at answers.

Peter's eyes are pleading in a way that tugs at her heartstrings. "Please, Amala? Nothing will happen. I got you."

Her eyes widen.

Those last three words shake her to her core. A troubling sense of familiarity flows through her and a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill from her eyes.

Those three words... what have they done to her? Every time she hears, it's like her body goes into shock. Tendrils of forgotten memories lick the back of her mind; the accident burns brightest.

I got you, her mind echos. I got you. I got you. I got you.

She concedes.

"I'm glad we're doing this." Peter says after a stretch of silence.

Amala tightens her hold on her small backpack, swallowing harshly. "Yeah, me- me, too."

After Peter's request, the raven had quickly changed out of her pj's into a random pair of sweatpants and his hoodie. She packed a small bag with her phone and wallet — just simple essentials in case another monster decided to regenerate out of thin air.

In all honestly, she's nervous. Not just because of the possibility of today's events happening again but also because this is the first time Peter and her have been alone since her suspicions.

Here they are, walking in the dead of night knowing full well they're violating the one rule Mr. Harrington put in place.

It makes her feel uneasy. Even with the wind blowing into her hair, even with the calming sound of their steps, even with the knowledge that she's safe with him, she can't shake this feeling of dread.

Peter gives her a soft smile and looks away quickly. "Yeah, it's nice to see the city for a bit."

Amala simply nods and returns the smile (it barely meets her eyes).

Something heavy weighs in her backpack and it drives her insane. Every step Amala takes makes it more apparent; it's thud constantly hitting her back.

Perhaps she shouldn't have taken it with her. Perhaps she shouldn't have grabbed from the floor at all. It's a stupid thing to do, really. She has no definitive proof and her expedition has been fueled by speculation alone. Still, what's done is done and it's not like she can return the weird metal object she found on the floor. She can't unsee the webs that were stuck on it, too.

She's already dug a hole and jumped straight into it. She might as well finish the job and seal it up.

"So..." Amala starts as a gust of wind sends her shivering.

"Uh- look there's this thing that I've been wanting to talk to you about... for a while." Peter says at her hesitation.

She stops dead in her tracks. "Yeah?" She questions, turning to him.

Her heart accelerated in sudden anticipation at the news. This is where he tells her. This is it. Isn't it?

After days of wallowing in confusion, after days of clatter in her mind, it's finally going to be put to rest. Peter will finally confess that he's Spider-man and they can be okay again; no more secrets and pure honesty here on out.

The thought makes her insides giddy.

Against her better judgement, Amala feels herself start to smile. Quickly, she catches herself and hides it with the back of her hand, pretending to be yawning.

Peter takes a deep breath and starts to fiddle with the sleeves of his shirt. "Uh - it's our last night in Europe and I had this plan that I wanted to tell you -" he cuts himself off nervously, giving a shy smile at Amala's head quirk. "I'm just gonna tell you-" he laughs, digging into his pockets.

Amala stands still and waits, both excited and anxious at it all. 

Peter takes out a small metal cylinder out of his pocket and holds it between his fingers.

Amala barely regards it.

Meeting his eyes, she can see the flush on Peter's cheeks — even in the dark. She smiles softly, trying her best to seem as unknowing and nonchalant as possible.

"Amala, I -" Peter starts.

But she really can't hold herself back. "Am Spider-man." She blurts out, knowing grin on her face.

Everything goes silent.

In the smallest voice possible, Peter mumbles: "what?"

Amala shakes his expression out of her mind. "That's what you were going to say — that you're Spider-man." She finishes, a little breathless.

Hesitantly, Peter shakes his head.

Confusion mingled with embarrassment starts rushing to her mind.

"No..." Peter voices, his eyes wide. "I'm not Spider-man." He trails off.

Amala can barely stifle a shocked laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Seriously? I mean, I've been watching you for a while now — not in like, a weird way or anything. I've just been... observant." Her voice comes off comical and nervous. "I mean, it's kind of obvious."

Shock swims in the toffee of Peter's eyes. "I'm not Spider-man." He says again. "I mean what would make you think I'm Spider-man?"

"Come on, Peter." Expresses Amala. "I found the floral shop card in your hoodie!"

His voice breaks at the edges. "Yeah...?"

Amala throws her hands in the air. "Peter! I know it wasn't Ned you were talking to the night I came over. I know that you didn't miraculously recognize the driver that brought us here — who's a complete stranger to the rest of us, by the way."

"That doesn't mean-"

"You disappear all the time. At random times!"

"Amala," Peter's voice quivers. "That's not-"

"How come you're never around when something bad happens?" She prods, getting irritated at his denial. "Where did you go when the water monster attacked?"

"Ned told you I went the other direction!" Replies Peter — a little too defensive for someone who's not guilty.

Her brows scrunch. "So I'm just supposed to believe that you wandered off into a crowd in the middle of a disaster in a foreign country?"

"Yeah!"

"Fine! What about the opera, hm?" Her voice rises, too. "You disappeared moments before the fire monster appeared! How is that a coincidence?"

Peter doesn't meet her eyes. "It was a coincidence! I wasn't feeling well and I needed some air. Amala-"

"Are you a male escort?"

"What?"

"Sam Martin says you're a male escort." She deadpans, crossing her hands across her chest.

Peter looks moments away from passing out. "What? Of course I'm not a male escort!"

"Well, then you're Spider-man." Concludes Amala.

Honestly, did he seriously think he was being discreet? From the moment he couldn't meet her eye after Spider-man's first visit, Amala knew something wasn't right. It just kept piling up: similar speech mannerisms, coincidences that were too odd to be purely at the hands of fate, that pang of familiarity every time she was around both Peter and Spider-man. It all adds up.

"No- I'm not Spider-man. At all." Peter defends, his hands shaking at his sides.

"Well, what about tonight?" She pries. "I saw you fight that fire monster thing."

He shakes his head. "You can't see me 'cause I'm not Spider-man!" Peter says, exasperated. "And also, on the news it was the Night Monkey."

Amala looks at him, appalled. "The Night Monkey?"

"Yeah! That's what it said on the news," Peter nods, trying his best to sell the lie. "and the news never lies!"

She's heard enough.

It was cute at first — watching him try to deny the allegations — but now, it's just getting sad.

Amala let's out a bored sigh and slips off her backpack.

Peter's eyes go wide. "What are you doing?"

Amala ignores him for a moment, tugging at the zipper and slipping her hand into the bag.

Once she has a hold of the object, she says, "well, does Spider-man and the Night Monkey use the same webs?"

Pulling it out, her fingers trace over its cool metal.

Instantly, she's transported back to several hours ago; hot, afraid and downright idiotic.

She swallows the lump in her throat and looks at Peter. Now is not the time to think of the past — even if it happened less than four hours ago.

In front of her, Peter's eyes turn glossy and his voice goes hoarse. "I mean... maybe?" He mumbles. "Maybe he's a Spider Monkey. Who knows?"

The raven inhales loudly. For a moment she looks away and her gaze trains to the floor. What's it going to take for him to just admit it? There's no use in hiding it now, the secret is out.

In some ways, Amala understands why he's so guarded — why he's fighting tooth and nail to beat the allegations. This is no joke. This is his livelihood on the line; he can't afford to slip up. Yet, she can't quite understand why he won't tell her. Suppose he really is Spider-man like she claims, then what's the issue? Spider-man knows her. They're close. They're... friends. He told her he trusted her, that he got her, that she knew him. So why is he this adamant on proving her wrong?

Something akin to disappointing brews in her chest. "Why don't you trust me?" Mumbles Amala, barely an octave above a whisper.

Peter's head shoots up. "I-I do!"

All Amala can do is frown.

No you don't, her mind replies. You don't at all.

"I really do!" He continues as his voicd takes on a sound of urgency. "I promise you, Amala. I trust you. I just - I just need to understand why."

Amala's head cocks to the side. "Why what?"

"Why were you watching me?" Peter asks, before saying: "observing me, I mean. Was it just because I was Spider-man?"

She stills for a moment.

"Yeah," says Amala, though it comes out weak and untrue. "That's why."

She becomes painfully aware of his hoodie on her back — its soft fabric sinking into her skin, burning her. It almost feels like it's choking her. The once safe comfort it provided now turns sour and constricting.

Peter visibly breaks at the comment. His entire demeanor sags. What was once a standoffish and nervous aura transforms into a sad, heavy essence.

"Oh," he mumbles, pain straining against his vocal cords. "I just thought-"

A bright light interrupts him.

Amala, who was thumbing the metal object as a means of distraction from her hurt, drops whatever is in her hands.

The piece of metal clatters to the ground and a blinding, blue light omits from it.

Confused and shocked, both teens take several steps back.

Amala watch with horror in her eyes as the strobe transforms. One moment, it's a thick laser, the next, it's a giant cloud of smoke with hands.

Subconsciously, the raven keeps taking steps backwards, her feet labored and panicked. She only stops once cold stone trips her over and she realizes she's hit the railing.

Strong memories flood through her like a broken dam. Flashes of mountainous waves and back aches, fire and fear, threaten to fully submerge her.

It looks exactly like the previous monsters. Its face and arms are the same — too close to human anatomy but lacking that sense of life. Its movements are familiar and almost robotic.

Amidst Amala's shock, she comes to understand that the water and fire monster are the same as this. They only differ in what they're made out of: water, fire then air.

The strange smoke continues on; the puff of vapor swipes a slate colored arm forward, it's face contorted.

She spares a glance at Peter, who regards the smoke with similar feelings. Almost expectedly, something else glints in his eyes, too: bravery.

Amala barely has any time to dwell on it before the weird smoke monster starts to shrink back into the metal object until there is nothing left of its existence.

Once it fully disappears, the only thing that's left are the empty streets of Prague and two very, very scared teenagers.

Barely realizing how afraid she actually is, Amala takes several deep breaths until she feels her heart rate slow. Running a hand through her hair, it squeeze against her curls, desperate to stop shaking.

"What the hell was that?" Questions Peter, breaking the silence. His voice trembles and he sends an unintelligible glance towards Amala.

Amala receives the glance and sends one of her own. However, it's very clear what she's trying to say: what the fuck?

She shakes her head violently. "I - uh - I don't know."

Moments pass and Amala still struggles to take a breath without her lungs burning.

Peter, on the other hand, seems to have recovered quickly and is now holding the object in his hand. He toys with it, turning it from side to side.

"What - what is it?" She asks, wanting to be in the loop but still scared out of her mind. "Some kind of projector or something?"

Peter studies it. "Yeah. But it's really advanced."

"It looks... so real." Whispers Amala.

"Yeah... really real."

Then it hits her.

Her eyes widen. "Wait - does that mean-"

"-The elementals are fake?" He supplies for her.

All she does is shake her head in confusion.

"But that doesn't make any sense. I mean, we were there." Reasons Peter. "There was fire and destruction and... who would do something like this?"

Another shake of Amala's head is all he receives.

Her mind drowns in shock. Nothing makes sense. Nothing ever makes any sense.

Desperate to say something, Amala says, "Peter, We-" before a jolt from the projector interrupts her.

For the second time, it erupts into a mass of light before configuring into a cloud of smoke. It twitches several times but manages to maintain the image.

The raven's eyes blur and she turns to look away until she sees something green.

Her eyes scrunch as she analyzes something new that shows up from the projector. A man. A cape, a blue head. It flies, it's green.

She gasps. "Mysterio..."

"I am Spider-man!"

Snapping out of her initial shock, Amala's eyes widen impossibly larger and she blinks at Peter in complete bewilderment. "What?"

"I'm Spider-man," he repeats, his gaze trained to the sky. "and I've really messed up."

Amala's mind short circuits as she waits for the punchline. "Wait - you're being serious?"

"Mhm," he chokes out.

"You're not fucking with me, right? Like you're being dead fucking serious because this is not funny." Her hands flail at her sides. "I was only like - ninety nine percent sure-" She rambles, her voice going shaky.

He shakes his head. "No. I'm not joking."

There's no way. Absolutely no way that he finally admitted it. That's it. The secret is out. No more hiding. No more lies.

God, it feels incredible. So incredible, Amala thinks she's going delirious.

She nods back, unable to process anything else "Okay. Okay! Yeah. No, yeah - it's cool. It's not like I've been waiting all week for you to finally admit it."

"Amala-"

"It's just. Wow. I mean - I knew you before I knew you. I mean - I knew Spider-man before I knew Peter. I'm just-"

"Amala-"

"This is insane. I didn't actually think this would work - holy shit. You saved me! Peter -"

"Amala!" He beckons, cutting her rambling off. "Look, I know you have a lot of questions but we really gotta get out of here. Okay?"

She simply nods due to the urgency in his tone. "Okay. Yeah, fair enough."

She slings her backpack on both her shoulders as Peter tosses the projector to his right hand.

He extends his left hand towards Amala and she takes with a exuberant expression. With that, he tugs her forward and off they go.

"I can't believe I figured it out! Fuck, I'm awesome." She mumbles into the night, wind blowing through her hair.

This is it. Peter Parker really is Spider-man.

— END OF CHAPTER 26 —

[ note ]
hi guys. sorry for such
a late update :( i've been
really busy and have lost
a bit of motivation !!! it's
been really hard to write
lately and i'm not sure why :/

this isn't the end (duh!) but
uploads will be a lot less
consistent. maybe once a
week or so— less if i can't
make it. i'm determined to
finish this story and i'm so
excited for you guys to see
the end! its just going to be a
bit slow from here on out.

thank you for everything.
see you all soon <33

all my love and thanks,

pearl <3