Bachira kept being Spider-Man for the same reason he kept playing soccer: it gave him a sense of freedom and joy nothing else did. He was just waiting for someone to be able to play with him. Then it would be perfect. But being Spider-Man meant there was now a part of Bachira's life he couldn't tell anyone about, for their own sake. It was alright at first.

Bachira lasted a few months before the isolation hit him. Why did nobody warn him that heroes had to be alone?

Alone until you of course. Maybe the universe brought you to him, maybe he manifested his dreams— he didn't care. Bachira wasn't alone anymore. Another had appeared in his world, someone else like him. Bachira wasn't the one and only Spider-Man anymore, and he'd do anything to keep it that way.

He found himself chasing the other Spidey more than he was doing his actual duty. He just wanted to exist in the same world as them, even if for a moment. He wanted to be seen. He only caught their attention once: when he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings, missing a web, and almost plummeting into traffic.

"Woah, that was close." Bachira whistled as he stared at the upside-down view of cars and trucks as far as the eye could see. "But now I've finally caught your attention." You could tell he grinned even through his mask, staring up at the web clinging to his leg, the only thing stopping him from meeting an untimely end.