Archive of Our Own

The balcony is both Karl’s favourite and least favourite thing.

With its confining walls on either side and thick railing leading seven stories downwards, it offers little privacy from the neighboring apartments. Karl would be worried about the little privacy thing, if he hadn’t been blessed with good neighbors.

The apartment above him belongs to his two friends, Dream and George. To the right is an old woman named Bethel and her family of cats. To the left is a young, quiet, foreign couple Karl has yet to formally meet. And below him is a university student he had run into after a long night, exhausted and accidently attempting to break into her room. Luckily, Tina’s an angel, and didn’t hold it against him. After Karl’s apologetic batch of slightly burnt cookies, they become good friends.

The complex is cramped, yet spacious enough to allow for a balcony that fits two chairs and a stool. It isn’t much, but Karl doesn’t mind. Rent doesn’t empty his bank account, and it’s in a secluded area of the city that houses other apartments, small businesses, and shops. Quaint and quiet. For the most part.

His balcony, admittedly, doesn’t have the nicest view— only the worn siding and brick of surrounding buildings, the cramped parking lot beneath him, and a single tree occupying the patch of grass that is supposedly the yard.

Not the most gorgeous of places, but it’s been home for three years.

It’s on cool September evening when he visits again. ‘He’ being the person that is the sole reason for his love-hate relationship with his balcony.

 Karl is hunched over his desk, struggling with homework and vehemently fighting yawns that break his concentration. It’s nearing midnight, and he’s about to call it for the night when a familiar sound has his head turning to the balcony doors.

Sure enough, a recognizable figure settles to lean over his railing, facing the door. Silhouetted against hazy city light, Karl can make out the man tug off a mask, letting long hair free.

A smile that warms his chest breaks over his lips, and he pushes from his desk. He leans to flick on the outside light, illuminating the hero gazing into the apartment. He unlatches the door and steps out, pulling his cardigan tighter around himself at the chill that welcomes him.

“Sapnap,” he whispers in greeting. “It’s late. I thought you had forgotten about me.”

Sapnap just looks at him, the orange and black of his suit looking sickly under the harsh florescent lighting. It casts shadows over his features, accentuating his sullen gaze.

Almost instantly, Karl can feel his heart drop. “Sapnap?”

“Karl,” he breathes. Karl steps up to meet him, brows pinching and an ugly, knowing feeling curling in his gut.

This is one of those nights he hates the balcony.

Sapnap doesn’t let either of them say another word, reaching out and taking Karl by the jaw and kissing him. It’s so tender and gentle and says everything the hero can’t bear to say aloud. Karl feels the tears building, the pressure in his chest and head making his blood curdle anxiously.

Their lips slide in an unhurried dance, tasting and breathing one another in. Sapnap’s hands are careful but firm on his jaw, a pressure that usually makes Karl’s head spin. It does now, too, but for an entirely different reason.

Please come back.

One of Sapnap’s hands slides into his hair, pulling Karl further over the railing. It digs into his hips, but he doesn’t care.

I need you to come back.

Karl feels a tear, one that’s not his own, hit his cheek. His own hands cradle Sapnap’s jaw, and another hits his thumb.

I need you.

After a while, Sapnap pulls back, hovering close, thumbs brushing along Karl’s skin slowly. Then he pulls away enough to look at him. And that’s all he does. Heavy, watery eyes taking him in, flicking up to watch while he runs his hand through Karl’s curls, pushing them back and letting them fall back into place.

Karl wants to demand answers, demand a who and what and why—

But Sapnap just wants to look at him, and so Karl lets him. And he does the same, taking in every curve and angle of his face, every blemish and scar and freckle, the shape of his eyes settled so fondly on him. The deep colour that looks black and boundless even in the harsh, dingy lighting. The dark hair settled in and around his face, the scruff on his chin. Hoping to memorize his every miniscule feature so he never forgets.

Thumbs brush against his cheeks, and Karl’s eyes fall shut as Sapnap leans in again. Their lips meet, and this time there’s an edge of desperation, of want and need and unbridled love Karl’s breath is stolen, before Sapnap breaks it again to press their foreheads together. They breathe the same air for several quiet seconds. Karl’s fingertips dance over his collarbone and neck until he finds the small golden chain under the collar of his suit.

“I love you.”

It’s a breath, and it hits Karl’s lips, making them tingle. He almost doesn’t say it back, just so he doesn’t have to accept it. Doesn’t have to give the night an end. Part of him wants to drag Sapnap into the apartment and hide him away, spend one last night enveloped by him, one last tug before having to let him go. He never wants to let him go.

But he breaks, mostly from Sapnap’s shaking breaths. His hands still not losing their loving hold despite their trembling. “I love you,” he says back, and it comes out a choked sob. “I love you so much.”

Sapnap’s eyes flutter shut, tears rolling down his cheeks, shining in the light. Karl kisses them away, though his own begin to pour too.

Lips pressed to the dark hair against his forehead, Karl’s eyes squeeze shut. “I love you so much, Sapnap.”

Karl’s hands are shaking as he pulls back enough to cradle his face again, eyes flitting over his face one more time.

It feels like his heart is torn from his chest when he lets go, slowly and shakily letting his hands fall back to his sides. Sapnap has silent tears running down his face, but his hands also reluctantly fall away. Now, the bulky wood railing between them is the only thing keeping Karl from the mighty hero in front of him. Sapnap wipes his face, taking a shaky breath.

They don’t say it. Say the words that bring the night to a true end. They’ve never said it. There’s always been a next time— Sapnap’s always made sure of that. He never left on a melancholy note. It was always terrible flirting or passionate kisses or teasing and joking.

If they said those words— if they said goodbye— it felt so much heavier. Like they were dooming themselves, making a promise. With Sapnap, those words always felt dangerous.

Even now, when there’s a good chance this is goodbye…

He doesn’t say it. He only gives one last smile, leans to peck him again, drawing a ridiculously adorable and heartbreaking watery chuckle from the hero. He hums against kiss-bitten lips when Karl tugs him in one last time.

Sapnap’s watch beeping breaks them apart, and Karl’s heart plummets. He chokes down the sobs as Sapnap tugs the mask back on, poising a hand up to shoot a web to the building across the parking lot.

Karl catches his face— the cloth feeling too familiar and too sickening under his hands— and smiles.

“Go save the world, handsome,”

Sapnap stares at him for a few more seconds, before nodding. Karl lets him go, steps back, and with a tug and leap, Sapnap slips into the darkness. The near-silent sound of his web-slinging fades into the night.

Karl doesn’t sleep that night.

He watches the hero go, swinging until he fades from sight for good. The sobs are already tearing their way up his throat, building a painful, ugly pressure in his chest that he hates. Blearily, he stumbles back into the apartment, vision swimming and chest closing.

He leaves the light on, leaves the door unlocked. That’s as much as he can focus on, gulping for air that won’t reach his lungs.

He chokes on an onslaught of tears, before rushing to the toilet, tile colliding with his knees. He retches with anxiety coiling through his whole body, hands shaking and sweat beading on his forehead.

“Please,” he begs brokenly, half the word cracking to nothing. His eyes are squeezed shut, shivers wracking his body. “Please— come back.”

More cries spill from his lips. His hands tremble as they reach up for the handle to flush, and he collapses back against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest. He tries to find his breath, but the bathroom is spinning, and he feels sick again.

Twice more he throws up, hunched over the toilet, knuckles white and shaking on the porcelain, until there’s nothing left. Until he’s curled into a tight ball against cold tile, trying to hide from reality, trying to hide from the emotions crashing through him.

Eventually, he finds enough willpower to pick himself up. Tears stream steadily down his face, and he stumbles to twist the tap on. The flowing water offers little comfort to his reeling head. He shakily cups his palms anyway, splashing his face until his skin is numb from the cold water.

Eyes shut, he tries to focus on anything but the sickening hopelessness, rinsing his mouth and spitting. Trying not to think about the staggering déjà vu the action brings. Just a few nights ago— rinsing his mouth out after brushing his teeth, before going to his bedroom to collapse into Sapnap’s awaiting arms.

He refuses to be sick again, so he tries to take deep, controlled breaths. But they only quicken until they morph into more choked cries.

He manages to make it to his bedroom before crumpling, breaking down into uncontrollable sobs, hugging his pillow to his chest and desperately trying not to think about how that might’ve been the last time he’ll ever see him. How me might not come home.

Sirens wail outside, distant screams and shouts reach his window. Karl squeezes his eyes shut, hands clamped over his ears.

Please, Sapnap, come home. Come home to me.

He lies awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning, and tuning out sirens and distant sounds of destruction. He tries desperately not to spiral.

It doesn’t work.

————————

Sapnap is hurting.

His body screams at him as he limps from the explosion sight. How he’s alive, he’s not sure. His earpiece is crackling with static, and dizzily, he pries it out. He nearly stumbles over rubble, jarring his wounds.

He’s not sure what injuries he’s harbouring, and he doesn’t think he can bare to look. He has a couple gashes for sure; many that will require stitches, and a bad one he has a hand clamped around on his upper arm. His head is spinning and his ears are ringing. He feels like he’s moving through tar, and he may have a concussion. He’s not sure.

Considering a building all but fell on him, he strained every muscle in his body hauling a vehicle up from a broken bridge, and he somehow survived an explosion, he knows they’re bad.

In a daze, he stumbles into an alley to avoid the crowds of people gathering, the sirens closing in, and the sounds of air support doing loops around the block.

Xerox is dead though. He saw the body, he made sure of it. He won’t be causing any more problems. Most civilians were saved in time—some coming out with wounds or fully unconscious— but alive.

He can’t say the same about the southern part of the city though. Other than the massive explosion that was once the research center and surrounding neighborhoods (which had been evacuated, thankfully), there’s destruction other places where he had chased the criminal. He can only hope help was able to reach them while he was preoccupied with nearly dying.

His knees suddenly buckle, dumping him to the rough ground. He lands hard on his hands and coughs up blood.

He stares at it through a blurring vision. Not good.

He knows he should let the people find him, get him to a hospital. But he has someone he needs to see. Urgently.

Through his muddled and agonized mind, he stands on wobbling knees and starts making his way further down the alley. The wound on his arm starts gushing blood again, and blearily, he returns his blood-crusted hand to stop it.

He winds through the dark, narrow passageways, occasionally leaning against dumpsters or the brick walls, and sometimes startling stray cats or feasting rats and mice.

Only once did his vision black out, and he woke a few minutes later on the ground, face-to-face with a rodent.

Somehow, he makes it— albeit painstakingly—across the city. Before he can process his own actions, his arms shoot a web and he hauls himself up to a familiar balcony, ignoring every strain and pull and screaming jolt that rips across his body.

It’s nearly evening again, and he notices the light is still on outside. It makes his stomach churn, knowing the state the boy is likely in on the inside.

It makes him feel guilty, and he nearly pauses before heaving himself over the railing. His body gives out halfway, and he all but collapses onto the patio with a pained groan.

His vision is dancing with spots, his breath knocked from his chest, and his breaths feel constricted all over again, even though there aren’t layers of concrete on it.

“C’mon, Spiderman,” he mumbles to himself, strained. “You saved your city, now you need to save your world.”

He rolls over and pushes himself up to his hands and knees, then stands unsteadily. He waits for the world to stop spinning, hand gripping the railing.

The door in front of him suddenly whips open. He lifts his head, just as a choked breath sounds from the threshold.

He gives his best, steadiest smile, even when his voice comes out as a croak. “I did it.”

Not a second later are careful but frantic arms thrown around him, almost pushing Sapnap off balance. He ignores the aches at the action and brings his free hand up to clutch at Karl’s back with a stuttering breath.

“You’re alive. Oh my god you’re alive. You’re—”

He suddenly pulls away, warm, familiar hands encasing his face. His eyes are wide on him, shining with tears. His breaths are fast as he slides hands over his face, down his jaw and neck, over his shoulders, looking over him like he doesn’t believe himself. The hands return to his face, and Sapnap can feel them trembling.

“You’re— you’re fucking alive.” He breathes. “Sapnap—” his breath hitches. “Sapnap, Nick—”

“Karl,” he mumbles.

Then, if it’s possible, Karl’s eyes widen further. “You’re hurt. You’re— shit—”

Then, he’s being tugged inside and sat on the toilet in the bathroom. He watches Karl as he shucks his hoodie (Sapnap’s hoodie) and washes his hands, digging for the first aid box under the counter.

His hair is a mess, eyes puffy and red, face splotchy from a night of crying. When he turns to face him though, his eyes are alight with relief.

He sets the kit down, then, slowly coming to stand between his knees and leaning to cup his jaw.

Gently, he kisses him. The angle hurts Sapnap’s stiff neck, but he couldn’t care less. He’s alive, Karl’s here, they’re okay.

Eventually they pull away, though neither of them want to. Sapnap’s head is spinning, likely from blood loss, and his suit is sticking to him with sweat and blood and he just wants to be rid of it.

Karl gets him to lean forward, and he leans over his shoulder to undo the clasps and zipper of his suit, before helping him slip out of it.

Getting his arms out is the worst part. It clings to him with the crusted over wounds, and he presses his face to Karl’s front as he boy gingerly peels it away.

Sapnap muffles as many whimpers as he can, but the pain makes him lightheaded, and the only thing keeping him from passing out is Karl’s warmth against his forehead, his scent, and the feeling of his belly rising with steady breaths.

Soon, they get the suit off his upper half, and his whole body is now throbbing with the adrenaline crash.

Karl peppers kisses over his face once he gets him free of the suit, landing one final one on his lips before pulling away to get a cloth to begin the cleaning.

Sapnap just admires him as he works, dabbling the warm cloth to his torso and arms, gentle fingers dancing over his skin in the process. He swims in and out of a dizzying nausea, vision tunneling if he moves too much, and Karl’s gentle coaxing for him to stay awake, stay here, brings him out of it just before his consciousness leaves him entirely.

There’s a faint buzzing that comes from the light above the sink, something that has always bothered Sapnap. Something that Karl says he doesn’t notice, can’t even really hear.

“It’s your Spidey-senses, babe,” He would say teasingly, arms looped around his neck with a grin. “The light needs fixing. It’s calling you.”

The memory brings a weak and delirious laugh out of his scratchy throat, and Karl lifts his head from cleaning a wound on his hip. “What?”

He just shakes his head, which throws him into another episode of trying desperately to keep upright. His head feels so heavy. He’s really tired. He’s about to punch that goddamn light.

A gentle hand slides to cup his jaw. “You can’t sleep yet, okay? Just a few more minutes, Sapnap. Stay with me, handsome.”

A sharp throbbing has him choking on a sudden inhale, and blearily, he looks down as Karl whispers an apology. He’s moved on to the nasty cut on his arm, and Sapnap doesn’t remember prying his hand off. It hurts like hell though. “’M gonna need stitches?”

The words are basically unintelligible through his spinning head, and Karl leans in a bit, frowning. “Stitches?” At Sapnap’s weak nod, not taking his eyes off Karl’s tender work of cleaning and blinking slow at the rag stained with red, Karl sighs. “Yeah, you might need stitches.”

“Don’t… wanna go.”

Karl’s brow furrows, and Sapnap gazes over his features washed in the cheap light of the bathroom. “Don’t wanna go where, sweetheart?” He whispers.

He’s so dizzy, and his head drops to Karl’s shoulder. The darkness and pressure against his eyes is a heavenly relief, something to focus on instead of the damp rag dragging against torn flesh. “Hospital.”

There’s a light breath, one Sapnap can’t decern as amusement or concern. Maybe both. “Well, you’re lucky I’m trained in first aid then, darling.”

Because of him. He took the course because of him, right after Sapnap stumbled onto his balcony with a gushing wound for the first time. Sapnap’s shoulders sag, biting back another whimper. “I’m sorry.”

The words tumble from his mouth, and he knows Karl doesn’t let him apologize very often for doing his job, but there’s a pressure on his chest that rivals the physical weight of the building that collapsed on him. A pressure that’s making it hard to concentrate around painful guilt.

“Sapnap—”

“I’m sorry you have t’do this.” It takes all his effort to speak clear enough to be understood, eyes still closed against the boy’s shoulder. “You could… you could have anyone else. Someone who isn’t at risk of dying as a full-time job.”

He doesn’t even know if he’s making sense, but Karl shakes his head before he even finishes talking. “Stop. Stop, Sapnap.”

“I’m sorry for… for making you sad all— all the time.”

“Sapnap,” Karl squeezes out, eyes glinting when he moves back to kneel in front of him, a hand still pressing the rag to his arm. He didn’t mean to make him cry again, fuck. Good fucking job, Sapnap. “You make me beyond happy. I don’t want to be with anyone else, like not even a little bit.”

Sapnap blinks at him, focusing on his face, counting his freckles. He’s really pretty. He doesn’t deserve him.

“Everything, all of this,” Karl makes a vague motion with his free hand to Sapnap’s torso littered with black, blue and red. His tattered suit bunched around his waist. “It’s worth it. Being with you, it’s worth it.”

He takes a shaky inhale around a burning, aching chest. “I love you.”

He’s rewarded with a soft kiss pressed to his lips. “I love you too. I’m gonna get you cleaned and fixed up, okay?”

Sapnap nods, blinking the dizziness away.

Karl’s fingers work to finish cleaning, and he tosses the dirty rag to the corner of the bathroom before digging out supplies to sterilize and bandage. It’s all a familiar routine, the hollow sound of the cupboards closing, the same sharp smell from the rubbing alcohol making him blink the stinging from his eyes.

 Sapnap grits his teeth against sharp pain when the alcohol meets his open wounds. But nothing compares when Karl begins stitching— and he focuses on anything but the curdling tug of the medical thread through his throbbing skin.

It all goes numb soon enough thanks to the assortment of ointments Karl lathered over him, and he must go into a state of shock because before he knows it, Karl is sitting back with a shaking exhale.

“Okay, all done, baby.”

The present swims back to him, bringing the throbbing and aches to the forefront of his mind with it. When the wave of agony rolls over him, he groans, and Karl’s hands on his shoulders keeps him from tipping forward off the toilet seat.

“I’ll give you painkillers, okay? Can you stand?”

“Can I stand,” Sapnap croaks, giving a weak smile. “I’m Spiderman. Of course I can stand.”

Karl gives a distrusting frown but stands with hands held out. “Okay then, Mr. Spiderman. Show me what you got.”

His body moves through scalding tar, but he clenches his jaw and forces his muscles up. Standing, the world begins teetering violently, and black spots flood across his vision.

When he blinks them away, he finds himself leaning heavily against a warm chest, secure and gentle arms around him and expertly avoiding his wounds. He blinks again, trying to drag feeling back into his limp body. “Whoa.”

“Take it slow,” Karl’s whisper says beside his ear, and it feels like too much effort to right himself. Karl is warm and comfortable, and safe. He’s safe. And really comfortable. Did he say that already?

Soft taps against his shoulder blades bring a faint clarity seeping back to his foggy brain. The pain is background now, and all he wants to do is sleep.

“C’mon, honey,” Karl breathes again. “You gotta move. Just a few steps to the bedroom.”

Sapnap forces his limbs to move, even though it sends screaming pain through every nerve. Karl gently leads him to stand by the edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna take your suit off, okay?”

He can only manage a dizzy nod, and desperately tries to blink the haze from his head to help. The rest of his suit is gently pulled down, pulled away from a few dried scrapes that Sapnap winces at. He drops to sit on the edge of the bed as Karl works it off his feet. “’M gonna get your bed all dirty,” Sapnap murmurs, tossing a blurry look over to the assortment of colourful blankets and pillows.

Karl stands and presses a kiss to his forehead. “There’s such thing as a washing machine, sweetheart.”

He takes the suit to the bathroom, then the light flicks off, leaving the apartment in blanket of shadows. He returns, turning on the lamp beside the bed and going to the closet. Now that he doesn’t have to exert himself to do the simple task of moving, Sapnap watches him.

The boy runs a hand through his hair with a quiet exhale, turning to digs through the pile of clothes by the dresser. He turns back around and Sapnap is reminded again how lucky he is.

“Here,” Karl says quietly, holding out a pajama shirt. “It should be soft enough against… well, everything.”

Sapnap helps the best he can as Karl tugs it on, biting his tongue hard when he has to lift his arm, which pulls against the stitches. “But…’s your fav’rite.”

“Hmm?”

Sapnap’s brow pinches together, melting into the feeling of Karl’s hands sliding oh-so-gently over his body. He painfully clears his throat, prying words out of his dry throat. “Th’ shirt. It’s your favourite. ‘m gonna ruin it.”

Karl releases a sigh, and this time Sapnap can hear the smile. “It’s only a shirt, hon. Here, scoot back.”

Sapnap bites down hard and carefully drags himself back against the pillows with Karl’s help. “Shit— ow.”

“Sorry,” Karl whispers, leaning to kiss him softly in apology. He gets him slowly situated then sits back with hands on his upper arms, satisfied. “All good?”

Everything is uncomfortable and tense, head throbbing sharply, but his limbs sink into the soft mattress like it’s his last resting place. He’d be so content if this really was his last resting place. He could ask for nothing more. Maybe just not all the aching making his muscles cramp. “’m good.”

Karl’s hands don’t leave his shoulders, smoothing over the bone and toned muscle tenderly. His eyes are flitting over him like a final assessment. Looking for anything else Sapnap may be hiding from him, as if he would ever do that. (Okay, he may have a history of doing that, but who can blame him? Karl looks so worried and his sad puppy eyes are killer). But Sapnap lets his head thump back against the headboard, half-lidded eyes drinking in the man in front of him.

The man that has his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing in worry.

“Karl,” he mumbles, fighting for his life to keep his eyes open. “I’m okay.” He talks as slow and meticulous as possible, hoping he conveys his seriousness through his exhaustion. “I’m so serious,” he adds after a moment, for good measure.

This pulls a little laugh from the brunet washed in silver tones from the moonlight filtering through the window, the sound breathy and a little weak. “You’re so serious?” he humors him anyway, leaning to tug a few blankets from their folded piles on the chair beside him. For emergencies. Unrelated to his hero stuff.

Sapnap grins dopily as Karl lovingly tucks him in with a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah,” he gets out. “Just come t’ bed s’ I can sleep. Please, darlin’.” His voice gives out on the last word, energy fully depleted. It seems his superstrength has abandoned him for the night. His limbs are lead and unresponsive, and he really just wants his boyfriend next to him right now.

Karl’s smile flashes in the moonlight, leaning to graze lips against his cheek. “I love when you get all Texan on me.”

“’m literally delirious,” he murmurs, but his skin tingles under the soft mouth.

Karl hums, presses a proper kiss to his lips. “I’m getting you painkillers and water, then I’ll come right back. Okay?”

Sapnap lets out a weak, pathetic whine as his head lolls to the side in defeat. There’s no point in arguing with him, not when Sapnap has already lost the battle with his eyelids. But he mourns the presence and comforting weight by his legs the boy had offered, only hearing when he slips out of the room and ventures to the kitchen when the door creaks.

It’s hard to focus on the distant sounds of cupboards opening, the fridge, water being poured. It all muddles with the other muffled sounds drifting through the windows. Sirens, commotion, and horns. His heavy eyes unwillingly peel open, just barely able to see the orange haze in the distance from the wreckage he’d left behind.

His heart sinks, lower and lower until it sits heavy and crushing with guilt. It shortens his already hitching breaths, curling his lips down at the memories flashing behind his eyes.

“Here, honey.”

The familiar warm voice brings him out of his reeling mind, and he blearily turns his head as Karl returns to his spot on the edge of the bed. He’s holding out a cup of water and two pills. Sapnap stares at it for a moment, mind blank, before Karl shuffles forward.

“You gonna take them or should I feed them to you like a baby bird?”

Sapnap’s lip twitches, but not enough to be a smile. Karl’s light amusement fades.

“Hey, handsome, what’s wrong?”

Too many people hurt, and he’d just left. Abandoned the police and armed forces to tuck tail and hide away. He should’ve done more. He could’ve helped them. He should’ve—

“Hey,” Karl’s hands slide to his face, and he blinks around a growing blur. “Why are you crying? Does something hurt?”

He feels a tear slide down his cheek, and he blinks again. Numbly shakes his head. “No, I— I’m okay.”

But as always, Karl reads him like an open book. The Amazing Spiderman, reduced to a simple line of text by pretty boys with curly brown hair. Rather, really only one specific boy. That boy being his. “Are those bad thoughts I’m sensing?”

This brings a stronger smile to pull at his lips, and he leans into the arms gently curling around his shoulders. “I’m the one with the Spidey-sense, babe.”

“Oh, I have my own senses.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles against his shoulder, eyes drifting shut. A hand smooths up and down his back, nearly dragging him to sleep. “And what’s that?”

“They’re called Spidey’s-boyfriend-senses. Foolproof.”

His smile is delirious at best. “They work like a charm.”

“I know,” Karl hums. His tone lowers, purposefully raspy. “I’m growing stronger everyday.”

Sapnap laughs, but it jars his already sore body, and it melts into a groan. “Ow, ow, don’t make me laugh.”

Karl hisses in apology, drawing away. “Sorry, baby.” He studies him for a few seconds, brows drawn together. “You wanna talk about those bad thoughts?”

He manages to shake his head without getting too dizzy. “I just wanna cuddle. And go t’ sleep.”

Karl smiles. It’s beautiful. He’s so beautiful. Damn, he’s lucky. “Okay. After you take these.”

His eyes fall to the pills Karl retrieved from the bedside table, and weakly holds out a hand for him to drop them into. He lifts them to his mouth with difficulty, face crinkling. He utters a groan when dropping his arm to accept the cup of water passed to him.

“Slowly,” Karl urges softly, hand hovering and ready to catch the cup if Sapnap’s limbs suddenly give out (it’s happened before, sadly). The water soothes his throat that he didn’t realize was so dry, and eases some of the nausea still lingering in his stomach.

Relief washes over him when he finally gets the painkillers down. The cup is plucked from his hand and set on the bedside table, and in the same second, the light flicks off to shroud the room in darkness. Then, finally, Karl gently climbs over him onto his side of the bed and slides in.

With a clenched jaw and face screwed in a wince, he carefully shifts to lie down. It pulls his stitches and sore muscles, bandages constricting, causing momentary agony to wash his vision black. But then it’s all over, and Karl is tucking himself close to press featherlight kisses to his neck.

“You okay?”

He musters enough energy to nod.

“You sure? Do you need anything else?”

He swallows, shakes his head. “Jus’ you.”

He feels the boy’s little smile when he presses soft lips to the underside of his jaw again. “Okay.”

A hand finds his, linking them together against Sapnap’s stomach. They lay there for a while, relishing in the warmth and real, sure press of each other’s bodies. Hands tangled and breathing soft. Hearts beating in sync. Sapnap lets the torments of the past twenty-four hours fade away, focus on where Karl draws little shapes against his hand with his thumb.

After a moment, Karl brings their conjoined hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of his palm. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he mumbles against it. Sapnap turns his head to nose into soft auburn curls.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

A breath. “Is that a promise, Spiderman?”

He kisses the crown of his head, squeezing his hand with all the strength he has left. “Always.”

And he’ll keep that promise as long as Karl has breath in his lungs. Until the dingy balcony light can’t welcome him anymore, no longer on for a mighty superhero to follow home.

Until it goes out for good to douse the balcony in shadow, he’ll come back.

Quietly, he links their pinkies.

Until the end of time, I’ll come back. I promise.