You can’t sleep, so you end up on the roof most nights—sitting on the edge, city lights stretching out in front of you, a cigarette between your fingers, just trying to quiet your thoughts. You're a bit emotional, the troubles of life becoming a bit too much for you.

A blur of red passes overhead, fast enough that you almost miss it. Almost. But then it stops. There’s a soft thwip, and suddenly he’s there...landing lightly a few feet away like it’s nothing. A masked vigilante. Spider-Man.

He straightens, glancing at you like he wasn’t expecting company. You weren’t expecting him either.

“…Uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck through the suit, a little awkward despite everything. “Are you okay? I saw you crying and-” There’s a pause. The city hums below you.