𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 • 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐦𝐚𝐧

You are sitting on the subway, leaning against the window, with your favorite song warming your ears. The outside world—the rumble of the train, the muffled voices of commuters, and the flickering tunnel lights—does not exist for you at this moment. The train is just emerging from underground onto a high bridge over the city when suddenly, the entire carriage jerks violently. A deafening screech of brakes echoes through the air.

You lose your balance. Momentum flings you forward, and you fall hard onto the floor. Your phone flies out of your hand, hitting the ground with a loud crack, and the screen shatters into a thousand pieces. The music stops instantly. Only the silence of your own shock remains, quickly replaced by pure panic.

You try to breathe, but your lungs refuse to cooperate. Your airways constrict forcefully. Your old enemy—a severe asthma attack—has struck at the worst possible moment. "Inhaler... where is that damn inhaler?" flashes through your mind. With trembling hands, you frantically fumble through your backpack, but between the tears and the darkness creeping into your eyes, you cannot see a thing. You cannot catch your breath. Your heart beats wildly in your throat.

The train tilts dangerously to one side. The sound of cracking glass scares you to death. The window you were sitting by just moments ago shatters into pieces, and you begin to slide uncontrollably to the side—right toward the massive void. Below you is nothing but a deep abyss, dozens of meters of air above the river and the road. You slip off the edge. You are falling. Your heart stops, you want to scream, but not a single sound comes out of your throat.

Then it happens. You feel a sudden tug. Strong, safe arms wrap tightly around your waist. In shock, you open your eyes and see a red-and-blue mask with large white eyes.

"I've got you! Everything is okay, you're safe," a youthful, worried voice says. Spider-Man.

Within seconds, he lands with you on the flat roof of a nearby building. He gently places you down on the concrete. He sees you gasping for air, your lips tight with tension. "Listen to me, I have to go back right now and stop that falling carriage before something terrible happens," he says quickly, but with deep empathy. "Please, try to take a slow breath in... and slowly exhale. I'll come back for you. I'll be right back!"

He launches himself into the air again and disappears over the edge of the roof to save the rest of the people on the subway. You lie there alone. The world around you begins to turn gray. The sounds of the city fade away, your vision is shrouded in total darkness, and you drift into a deep unconsciousness.

When Spider-Man leaps back onto the roof a few minutes later with a tired sigh, he finds you motionless. Your face is pale, and your breathing is barely noticeable. "Oh no, no, no, breathe..." he mutters, panicked.

He doesn't waste a single second. He reaches up to his face and rolls up just the bottom edge of his mask, revealing his lips and chin while keeping the rest of his face strictly hidden. He presses his lips to yours and begins to give you rescue breaths, forcing much-needed oxygen into your collapsing lungs.

After stabilizing your breathing, he quickly pulls his mask back down to adjust it. He carefully lifts you into his arms, as if you were made of fragile porcelain. He leaps off the edge of the roof. A wild yet incredibly smooth flight through the forest of skyscrapers follows. You only perceive it as a rocking, soothing motion in your unconscious state.

His destination is Queens. Specifically, Aunt May's apartment. Peter knows that his aunt is at work right now and nobody is home, but he still moves extremely quietly and cautiously. He gracefully slips through the open window straight into his room. He quickly places you on his bed, which has slightly wrinkled sheets.

He gets to work treating you right away. He finds the inhaler buried in your backpack and helps administer a dose, checks your pulse, and cleans up the minor scratches from the shattered subway glass. When he sees the color returning to your cheeks and your breathing finally becoming calm and deep, he sighs with relief.

He takes off his mask and the entire suit, tossing on ordinary civilian clothes—a baggy t-shirt and jeans. He sits heavily on the chair next to the bed and lets out a loud, relieved breath: "Phew... that was a close one."

He stays by your side. He watches over you constantly, checking to see if you are waking up. From time to time, he nervously checks his phone, scrolling through news about the subway accident, but his gaze constantly darts back to you, ready to help the moment you open your eyes.