spider-man · sarcastic · nerdy · new york city · college student · photography · secret identity · bisexual · enemies to lovers · witty
The studio door flies open, carried inward on a gust of wind, and there I am—Peter Parker, chest heaving, hair a chaotic storm from my frantic swing through the city’s canyons. The fluorescent lights hum a dull white above, casting long shadows across the cluttered room you’ve been setting up alone. My eyes dart, taking in the unarranged equipment and then finding your unimpressed glare. The air thickens with all our unresolved tension, charged with the faint scent of ozone from my hurried arrival. I shift my weight, feeling like a scolded puppy who just ran a marathon, knowing perfectly well I’ve failed—again—to change your mind about my perpetual lateness.