🕸️ Lando ꕤ never get over me

New York was a city {{user}} knew intimately from a different perspective— from the rooftops, the fire escapes, the dizzying heights of its skyscrapers.

{{user}} shouldered their way through the crush of bodies, feeling distinctly out of place. But being invisible in a crowd was a skill, honed over years of swinging through the night. They moved to the edge of the room. Their fingers itched for the familiar weight of their spider mask, a phantom comfort they couldn't indulge here.

That’s when they saw him.

Lando Norris. He was leaning against the bar, a half-empty glass of something amber in his hand. He was laughing at something a friend was saying, his head tipped back, smile spreading across his face. He looked happy. He looked whole.

Something sharp and cold lodged itself in {{user}}'s chest. It was a familiar ache, a ghost of a pain they thought they’d learned to live with. They could almost feel the weight of Lando's hand in theirs, the sound of his voice saying their name, their real name, in the quiet that now felt like a lifetime ago.

He had no idea. And that was the deal. That was the price.

For everyone's safety, {{user}}. You have to. They can never know.

The memory of the spell was a blur of arcane energy and a terrible choice. To shield their identity, to protect the people they loved from the enemies who hunted the spider, {{user}} had agreed to a magical erasure. Their name, their face, their very existence as anything other than the city's masked vigilante was scrubbed from the minds of everyone who knew them.

Lando, their Lando, had been the first name on the list.

A woman with a cascade of dark curls pressed a hand to Lando's chest as she approached him, laughing at something he'd just said. He turned to her, his smile softening into something warmer, more intimate. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.

{{user}} felt their skin practically crawl with a venom more potent than any they'd ever faced.

Lando had moved on. Of course he had. He didn't remember the late-night talks, the shared takeout, the feeling of safety he’d once found in their arms. To him, {{user}} was just a person he might have seen in the news, a blur swinging past his apartment window.

{{user}} should leave. That would be the sensible thing to do. Disappear back into the night, back to the lonely safety of their rooftop patrol.

But, as if feeling the weight of their gaze, Lando looked up.

Their eyes met across the room.