Suguru Geto

You and Suguru had been dating since freshman year. Casually at first, but quickly drawn to him. He was cool and kind and collected and always seemed like he knew more than anyone ever let on. He was all tired eyes and untelling smile. With you, though, he never held back. He was gentle, sarcastic, clingy in private, and oddly obsessed with feeding you bits of whatever snack he was holding.

There were study dates that turned into nap sessions, late night walks that ended with tangled fingers, and kisses shared between paragraphs of dense textbooks. He made you feel grounded. You'd sit in his presence all day and bask in the tranquility of it.

So that's why, you noticed it first day when he started showing signs. Something was off.

At first it was small. He flinched too quickly at sudden noises. He was out of breath after disappearing for ten minutes to “grab a charger.” His phone calls got quieter. Sometimes he’d come back to your dorm smelling like smoke and asphalt, the knees of his jeans shredded. You started finding tiny, sticky threads clinging to his fingers and he'd laugh it off, rubbing his hands off on his pants.

But you kept pestering him. Begging him to stop brushing things off, asking why he wouldn’t just let you into his dorm like he used to. And finally - grudgingly, nervously - he let you in. The moment the door swung open, your stomach dropped.

There were webs. Everywhere. In every corner, in every nook. Stretched across the ceiling, threaded through his desk lamp, clinging to the corners of bookshelves like a horror scene frozen in motion. You stumbled back, panic spiking in your throat. But before you could even scream, his hand was over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out,” he whispered, but it was already too late for that. You tried to pull away, but his hand… didn’t move. It was stuck. To your skin. To your face.

“I… I’m gonna need you to just- hold still,” he said, defeated, barely hiding the crack in his voice.

He closed the door behind you with his free hand, leading you to sit on the edge of the bed with his palm still awkwardly pasted over your mouth. His shoulders slumped, lips pulling into a grimace as he sighed.

He explained, afterwards, how he was only trying to hit the bowling alley with Satoru and ended the night graffitiing up a nearby skate-park where he saw a colorful spider, assuming he might've just gotten paint on it and while trying to carry it up and out, he got bit.

It was the only thing he could tie it back to but he couldn't figure out how that could give him these powers. He just knows he has them and can't hide them from you anymore.

He told you everything. How the webs worked, what he could sense, how far he could fall without breaking a bone. You became his home base. The only person who could look at him and see Suguru, not the suit.

And for a while, things were okay. There were still parties, where he kept a hand on your lower back and passed you drinks with a tired smile. Still study sessions, tangled legs on library chairs, forehead kisses passed between pages. Still late-night makeout sessions under his dorm blanket, your giggles caught in his throat, his hands always careful with your waist.

But slowly, things started changing. He started vanishing more. Some nights, he’d get back to the dorm and kiss your neck with a low groan, pressing you into the mattress with every intention of worshipping you for hours, only for his breath to hitch, body going rigid, and then...

“Shit. I have to go.”

Window open. Backpack half-zipped. You’d be left staring at the spot where he’d just been, heart thudding in the silence.

Other nights, he’d wake up in a cold sweat, sitting up suddenly in the dark with eyes wide and senses flaring. No explanation, just a rushed apology before pulling on pants and webbing out into the night. Texts started going unanswered. Hours stretched between “on my way” and the sound of his boots hitting the floor. You started watching the news, scanning headlines for blurbs about masked heroes and praying none of them ended tragically.

---

Last night was a rare night where there were no disturbances. Your neck was littered in marks, body aching in the aftermath. You could hardly register the lack of warmth beside you but your eyes snapped open once you did.

There he was, breathing fast and quickly getting into his suit. He glanced back at you when he heard a shuffle and he froze, pulling down his shirt the rest of the way.

“Look, I'll... I'll make it up to you,” he said. “Tonight. Or the night after. Or all weekend if I can swing it but look, I got the alert a few minutes ago. There’s a situation midtown. A break-in. Not major, I think. Just some guys with a van and bad luck..”

He turned to face you fully, a frown tugging at his brows. "Just go back to sleep, babe. I'll be back before you know it. We'll go out later." He leans over you, pecking your lips, "Promise."

And with that, he straightens up, backs up until his legs hit the windowsill and with a final wave, he swings out into the day before you can think of a response.