Chapter Text
Moving to Penacony was a decision Anaxa had done out of necessity and convenience rather than an achievement for a lofty dream. Penacony is a city big and bright enough to lure in so-called dreamers, only to let their aspirations burn to ashes the longer they stray close in its fire.
If given the chance, Anaxa wouldn't have dived down in its chaos. But one of the best hospitals reside in said city and he couldn't pass up the opportunity of residency. So he packed up half of his life, fitting it all into sand-colored boxes, and traveled twelve hours towards his new home.
Calling it home was more for the specifics than semantics. Home is stemmed from familiarity. Penacony with its blinding night lights is a foreign thing against the starry night sky of Icatus. Penacony, where you breathe in the smoke of the city and cough out curses from being hit by people leaving behind thudding footsteps in their wake. Icatus with noises of tree leaves ruffling and active cicadas pales quieter to Penacony's constant vehicle honking and chatter that fills the air.
Penacony truly is a city big enough to accommodate normal people… and not so normal people .
"Everybody get down! Down!" One of the three robbers, who's wearing a mask based on a cartoon character, commands everyone in the bank.
Anaxa, being one of the unfortunate people, sighs before kneeling down. His action was mirrored by everyone; others were doing it with their whole body trembling and some were doing it while sobbing. The bank tellers and their manager had no choice but to feign calmness as they negotiated with the robbers.
The coldness of the tiles are starting to seep through his pants, numbing his knees and lower legs. The ear-piercing alarm grates through his ears. There are guns pointed at them and the clock on the wall shows there's only twenty minutes left before the moving service arrives at his apartment. And yet he's stuck here, a hostage in a bank heist, on his first day.
"I'm pretty sure Clockie and friends are anti-guns so, this is very out of character for you guys."
All the robbers hastily start pointing their guns towards the newcomer. The involuntary victims shares a collective sigh of relief which piques Anaxa's interest, making him turn his head towards the owner of the voice.
It's a guy wearing a red spandex with blue accents highlighting the web-like design weaved on his top and a spider logo in the middle of his chest. A stripe of blue cuts through his red top on each side, starting from his wrists, passing through his armpits and ending to his waist where it meets perfectly with his pants that have the same hue of blue. He's balancing on a pillar with his red high cut shoes carrying all his weight effortlessly. The fit is completed by the red head mask he wears, the all white eyes seem to be squinting down on them— or specifically, at the robbers.
"Spider-man!" One of the masked robbers, wearing a Clockie mask, grits out.
But before they could process their shock, the red-blue spandex guy—Spider-man, they said—is already spraying white stuff straight out of his wrist, towards all their guns at a speed the naked eye couldn't follow. Anaxa peeks at the masked robber's (this one's wearing a Brother Hanu mask) gun near him and said white stuff resembles an actual spider's web. Fascinating.
Surprisingly—but not so much for Anaxa—the same masked robber near him grabs him up the ground before he's put on a headlock in one arm while the other hand brandishes a knife against his neck.
Spider-man immediately jumps down from the pillar and stands with his hands up, "Whoa there, man. Let's not be reckless, yeah?"
"We don't wanna fight either, Spidey," The Hanu masked robber says with his body trembling, making the knife hover close towards Anaxa's neck, "Let us go with the money before I let go of pretty boy right here."
"Okay—" Spider-man starts, trying to inch closer but immediately halts when the masked robber threatens the knife much closer, "Alright. Let's find a solution here, shall we? If you guys need money, I can— uh— well, the Xianzhou restaurant down the street is hiring and I'm friends with the chef so I can—"
"We don't need job recs from you man!" screams the robber wearing a Hamster Ball Knight mask.
"Then work with me here," Spider-man quips, "What do you all need the money for? I'm pretty confident I can help you guys with whatever problem you're facing."
The Hanu masked robber holding Anaxa shares a look with the Hamster Ball Knight masked robber.
"Don't tell him!" Clockie masked robber warns.
Hanu masked robber ignores him, "You can help us?"
"I'll— I can," Spider-man answers. He puffs up his chest and shrugs, "I have friends in high places, you know?"
"And does your reach extend up to Nous?"
Anaxa forces himself to not react to the word.
"Oh, Nous?" Spider-man lets out a breath, "Totally, dude, I have friends in Nous Hospital. I can get a word in."
"Really?" Hammer Ball Knight masked robber seems to light up.
"But you guys have to promise," Spider-man warns, "You all have to surrender, okay? This is a transaction. I'll keep my word if you guys promise me this. Alright?"
Words of acknowledgement were shared between the three before they let go of their weapons down to the floor, raising their hands up in surrender.
Anaxa winces, fearing the guns would load off when the Hanu masked robber says, "They're fake, Spidey."
Spider-man starts walking towards them, "Yeah, I figured. The knife too?"
The Hanu masked robber nods before letting go of Anaxa. Spider-man—for whatever reason—suddenly wraps an arm behind Anaxa's back, his hand resting on his waist.
"You better keep your word," The Hanu masked robber says.
"I swear on my life, dude." Spider-man promises, his hand still suspiciously searing against Anaxa's waist.
When the infuriatingly late police brigade finally arrives, the masked robbers willingly surrender their hands to be handcuffed while staring at Spiderman as the police reel them in towards the police car waiting for them.
Spider-man waves at the robbers, then salutes at the policemen, while his other hand still stubbornly sits on Anaxa's waist.
Anaxa turns towards his captor, "Can I go now?"
Spider-man flinches, as if in shock that Anaxa's a human and not a statue. "Sorry about that!" He says, putting his hands up as if electrocuted, "It's just that, hostages are commonly weak-legged once they're let go, so I was doing that to support you. Definitely not because... you know—"
"I see," Anaxa says, "I understand. Thank you."
"No problem," Spider-man breathes out.
Anaxa looks towards the exiting crowd then back towards the savior of the day. He nods, "I'll be going now."
"Let me walk you out," Spider-man offers.
Of course you would, Anaxa doesn't say. Instead, he allows a space for the spandex hero to walk beside him.
"Are you new here?" Spider-man asks. When Anaxa only stares at him, he scrambles to clarify, "I mean— I've never seen you around before, hence the assumption."
Anaxa raises an eyebrow, "You know every local face here in Penacony?"
"You could say that."
Cat's out of the bag then, "Yes, I'm new here. Just moved in."
"That's great! Where to?"
They now stand at the sidewalk where the myriad of police cars are still parked. Various police go in and out of the bank while bystanders behind the police line all have their phone cameras pointed towards Spider-man.
Anaxa raises an eyebrow, "I'm not going to tell you that."
Spider-man chuckles, "Perfectly understandable."
Anaxa's phone suddenly pings, breaking the bubble they've formed around themselves. He digs it out from his deep pocket and sees a message sent by the movers saying that they've arrived at Anaxa's place.
"It's nice to meet you, Spider-man," Anaxa says, eyes still trained on his phone, "You're—" a weird person, "—an interesting one."
"Pleasure's all mine. Be safe out there!" Spider-man responds, standing tall with his hands on his waist.
Anaxa nods at him before turning around, trying not to hit people as he speed walks towards the direction of his apartment. In his hurry, he neglects to see and hear the conversation shared between the robbers, sitting at the backseat of a police car, and Spider-man.
"You're drooling, man," one of them snickers at Spider-man.
Spider-man wipes at his mouth, then realizes he's still wearing his gear and mask. He turns towards the other three, "Ha ha. Really funny."
"You were devouring him with your eyes," one of them pipes up.
"I wasn't!" Spider-man scoffs out, "I was very gentlemanly, I would say."
The last one shakes his head, "Small waisted twinks does it for you, Spidey?"
"Okay, that's enough," Spider-man says, "Or I'm webbing all of your mouths shut."
The three ignores his warning, laughing to themselves upon seeing the Penacony's designated hero fumble around over a pretty face. It's barely eight in the morning and Spider-man did not sign up to such shaming. He sighs; it will be a long day ahead.
Anaxa initially planned to get a small place, probably one where his bedroom and kitchen share a space together. It's where he would end up when he's winding down from his inevitable long shifts, so even if it was small, it would've sufficed. The majority of his time will be spent in the hospital anyways and it would be troublesome to fill in a bigger place.
When he relayed his plan to his sister, she looked at him with the same look she gave him back when he was a child, getting caught staying up late at night reading books.
"Anaxa, this apartment will be your home there," she says, eyes still trained on her laptop. Her web browser had multiple tabs opened, all with the same topic; apartment for rent near nous hospital. "And it will not be treated as the same shit-hole you'll get as your shared on-call room. Alright?"
Anaxa lets her suggest more "livable" apartments. It wouldn't be a home without you, he swallows down, before reviewing all his sister's suggestions.
In the end, they decided on an apartment that's a bit pricier. Upon entry, the kitchen immediately greets him, attached near it is a small bar counter top which doubles as a dining area. The actual dining area is situated at the front of the kitchen, a six-seater table—something his sister insisted him to buy—is already occupying the space.
Beside it, lies his living room; the space that forced Anaxa to actually purchase his own low-rise tea table to pair up with the sofa his sister gifted him for his move. On its right, lies the sliding door that leads toward his small balcony. It oversees the city and has an emergency ladder attached on its front. At the other side of the place lies two doors— one leading towards his bathroom and the other leading to his bedroom.
It took the whole day for Anaxa to fix the major appliances and furniture to their designated places. He had only opened the boxes for his clothes when he realized that the sun had already set and the sky was replaced with dark clouds rushing over themselves. A sharp pain on his stomach unkindly reminds him that he hasn't eaten any meal yet except for the sorry excuse of a sandwich he ate while walking towards the bank.
The memory of the bank heist that morning resurfaces in his mind, especially towards its savior. After he took a shower, his delivery of skewers and wraps from the Xianzhou restaurant near the bank came at the right time. Anaxa tips the delivery guy more after seeing his uniform damp from the rain. Then, he sits on the bar counter top, eating his food and ignoring the unoccupied spaces while the rain outside hails down mercilessly.
A sudden noise coming from outside distracts him from his meal. He looked towards his balcony to see if it was a thing brought flying by the harsh wind. Then, as if struck by lightning, his hands drop his skewer back on its packaging and the chair he's sitting on screeches in his haste to stand up.
It was a person. A person who’s suspiciously shaped like Spider-man.
Maybe it's a typical day in Penacony; where the red suit vigilante would randomly drop down on your balcony. Except, it was a first for Anaxa to experience said phenomenon. He doesn’t know the whole protocol on what to do with a stray vigilante, especially with a possibly passed out one. Is there even a hotline to call? Where can Anaxa return him?
He would've grabbed his laptop and searched “what to do when a vigilante crashed into your apartment”, but the rain is rattling against his windows yet Spider-man remains immobile. So, he braves himself before opening the sliding door of his balcony, ignoring the harsh slices of the rain as he drags the vigilante inside the safety of his home.
Anaxa lays the vigilante on the floor of his living room, his eyes wandering to find his phone so he could call for emergency. Spider-man remains unconscious and dripping wet on Anaxa's wooden floor—and he worries about the maintenance for it, so he runs towards his bedroom to find his box full of bath robes and towels.
After gathering all the water-absorbent fabrics he had while ignoring his own soaked clothes, he wraps—well, swaddles—the vigilante to dry. When red tinges the waist part of the swaddle, Anaxa lets out a curse as he presses his hand against it, diverting all the use of the towels on absorbing all the flowing blood. When the bleeding seems to have stopped, Anaxa grabs a throw pillow from the couch and puts Spider-man's feet on top of it, before hurrying on getting his first aid kit, still rethinking about dialing the emergency hotline.
Anaxa stares at the vigilante, cursing the other's full on gear that's probably not helping in drying him off before coming to a realization. The vigilante is covered from head to toe, as if in hiding. If Anaxa sends him to a hospital, then wouldn't his identity be revealed?
So, in a sudden bout of recklessness and probably a dash of ego, Anaxa disregards all logical routes and remembers that he had gone to med school for this. Well, not specifically for treating stray vigilantes, but for treating people. His duty in Nous Hospital starts tomorrow, it wouldn't be a sin to act like a doctor now, is it?
After sterilizing every tool and thing—even himself— that he surmises that he'll use, he puts on a pair of surgical gloves and grabs a bandage scissor to cut out the part of the suit where the bleeding is gushing out from. The wound seems to be shallow, probably caused by an aborted stab from a small knife. Once confirming that there are no shrapnel or any small object in the wound, he proceeds on disinfecting it.
A hand suddenly wraps unkindly around his neck, cutting off his airways and causing him to drop down all the tools he has in his hands in panic. He rapidly taps his hands against it, the spandex still wet, catching the attention of his assailant.
In a split second, Spider-man immediately lets go of him. Still in a somehow muddled state, he breathes out, "It's you."
Anaxa ignores him, simultaneously trying to cough out and breathe in. He sees the other sitting up so he presses a hand against their shoulder. "You're hurt," he wheezes out.
Spider-man remains sitting up, "I've hurt you. I'm sorry."
Anaxa shakes his head. If he found himself in a random house and came face-to-face with a stranger in his wake, he would've probably done worse than choking them. Hypocritical observation since he himself had dragged a stranger in his house but, whatever.
"Let's bring you to the nearest hospital," Anaxa says, standing up with his tools in hands. "Lie back down."
Spider-man looks at the towels swaddling him and the ones that were soaked with his blood, "You saved me?"
Anaxa scoffs, "Barely. I only disinfected the wound, you still need to get that checked."
There's only silence before he's soon distracted from his tool cleaning when he hears a cacophony of things falling down the floor in his living room. Anaxa exits his bathroom to soon see Spiderman already standing up, one hand covering his wound and his form slouched; contrary to his straight back that morning. The vigilante is looking down where the things in Anaxa's first-aid kit lay scattered on the floor.
Anaxa grabs his phone before hurrying towards the vigilante, "I told you to lie back down!"
"Thank you for this, doc," Spider-man groans out, "Sorry 'bout your floors."
"Wait for the ambulance," Anaxa says, his fingers already typing down Penacony's emergency hotline.
Spider-man stops him by putting a hand on top of his phone, "Don't need it."
"You're stabbed— I'm assuming. You need it."
"I was. Don't worry, I heal quite fast."
Anaxa scoffs, "You overestimate your bodily functions."
Spider-man blinks the white eyes of his mask, "Well, yes. I once had a bullet shot near my liver once. Slept it off and was healed the next morning."
"You're joking," Anaxa deadpans.
"I'm not," Spider-man chuckles but is immediately cut off with a groan, slouching more towards where his wound is, "I can shoot webs out, yet it's unbelievable that I can heal fast?"
Anaxa ignores the implications that there's a bullet being hugged by the organs inside Spider-man's body, "But you're hurting and if you keep touching it like that, it could get infected. At least let me bandage it up."
Spider-man only looks at him for a long time before saying, "Can I say no?"
"No."
"Alright," Spider-man snorts before pointing at Anaxa's sofa, "May I?"
Anaxa nods before putting his phone down the table, "I'll wash my hands first."
The couch creaks against the whole weight of the vigilante, "By the time you came back, my wound would've closed up."
"Really?" Anaxa says, scrubbing his hands a bit too hard than usual. He grabs one of the sterile towels he had prepared a while ago to dry his hands, before going back to the living room with his hands away from him and palms faced up.
Spider-man softly chuckles, "You're actually a doctor. That's reassuring, but—" he points a hand towards his wound that's surprisingly had already closed off, "—a bit too late now. I told you, didn't I?"
"Unbelievable," Anaxa whispers, his hands dropping down to his sides from the shock.
"This is a good couch," Spider-man whispers back, his whole body almost consumed by the couch.
"My sister chose it for me," Anaxa says.
"Good sister," Spider-man nods, "You're a good one too. Thank you for saving me."
Anaxa kneels down, picking up all the things on the floor to hide the rising flush of crimson on his face. This guy just choked him a while ago and yet he's now blushing because of a gratitude-paid compliment? Ridiculous.
Anaxa puts the first-aid kit atop the tea table before sitting beside the other, looking at his wound in an acceptable distance. It really had closed off on its own. No stitching needed and only leaving a scar in its wake. He's witnessing actual biological transcendence on a random rainy, Sunday night. This is his life now.
In the middle of his internal spiral, Spider-man suddenly grabs one of his hands and puts it against the skin where the wound resided a while ago.
"Amazing, right?" Spider-man asks before letting go of Anaxa's hand and turning his head towards him.
Anaxa looks at him before going back to the scar. He brushes a finger against it, "You act like this is a normal occurrence."
"It is. After all, better me than others."
"Savior complex?"
Spider-man laughs, like it was unexpectedly dragged out of him, "No. It's because I'm sturdier than others. Makes sense, yeah?"
Anaxa doesn't answer, only taking his hand back and looking through the glass doors of his balcony where the rain outside seems to have stopped. Spiderman follows his sight before standing up. Anaxa mirroring his action.
"I should go now," Spider-man says, "Thank you for this. Again."
"I barely helped," Anaxa answers, following the vigilante towards his balcony doors.
Spider-man turns back at him, "You don't take gratitude well, do you?"
Anaxa raises an eyebrow, "Psychoanalyzing me, Spidey?"
Spider-man shrugs, "You were supposed to say you're welcome."
"Get out of my house."
Spider-man chuckles before sliding the balcony doors open, walking out while stretching all his joints. He jumps towards the railing, perfectly balancing with his soles down and thighs stretched to the side. He turns his head to the left to look back at Anaxa.
"It was nice meeting you, doc," Spider-man says, "If you're ever in trouble, just scream out my name and I'll be there."
Anaxa's eyes widens, "You'll hear me?"
Spider-man blinks, "Well, maybe? If you're within an acceptable distance."
"I don't know if you're lying or not."
"I would never," Spider-man says before his head immediately snaps to the other side. Seconds later, a scream could be heard coming from the same direction.
"I better get going," He stands from his crouching position before facing Anaxa one last time, "Goodnight!" He salutes then proceeds to shoot off a line of web that he uses to swing from building to building.
Anaxa stays in the balcony, looking after the swinging vigilante until he's away from his sight. Once he feels the chilly air left by the rain seeping in his bones, he goes back in to clean all the mess he made.
He gathers all the towels from the floor and brings it all to his bathroom. As he loads them one by one in the washer, a streak of red falling down on his feet catches his attention. He leans down to take it and realizes it was the patch that he had cut off from Spiderman's suit a while ago.
Anaxa stares at the cloth, convincing himself that he should throw it. It's practically nothing now, a cloth less than a used rag without the whole suit accompanying it. But instead, he takes it to the faucet and hand-washes it before hanging it out to dry in one of the towel racks.
Penacony is a fever dream, Anaxa is sure of it. He wouldn't even be surprised if he jumps awake and realizes that everything that had happened to him today had been a dream all along. Can his dream tonight even beat it?
Turns out, his unconscious self didn't even bother sending him a dream that night. Probably realized that last night's happening was already a peak, dream experience.
He wakes up the next day with an unnecessary tiredness in his bones. He gets ready for the day in the bathroom while ignoring the hanged red cloth on the towel rack. Then, he gets into preparing all the things he'll be needing for his first day of residency in the hospital. The clockwork-like routine makes it seem like normalcy is back in his life after Penacony took it away for a day.
A knock from his door disrupts his peaceful morning. He laments on pretending to ignore it when another knock snaps him out of his reverie. He silently pads towards it before peeking an eye through the peek hole.
Anaxa looks at them for a long time though he couldn't make out who the person on the other side is. All he could see is them leaning back on their heels then their toes repeatedly.
He then comes to a decision to scream out for Spider-man if the person outside turns out to be someone who'll do him harm, before opening his door slightly, peeking out with one eye.
"Oh, hi!" The person outside greets.
Said person is a tall, white haired man with blue eyes comparable to the sky above. He's wearing a navy blue, boxy button down shirt that's unbuttoned, where the white tee he wears inside peeks through. His pants almost have the same off-white color that the walls of the halls have. His sneakers are as white as his hair while a gray backpack hangs onto one of his shoulders.
"Good morning," the man greets with a smile, "I heard someone moved in the unit beside me so I brought this to give as a welcome gift." He then presents the box he's holding with both hands, "Tiramisu."
"Oh," Anaxa opens the door a bit wider, "That's very considerate of you, though I didn't prepare anything… to give."
The man's eyes widens before a laugh breaks out of him, "That's okay. I'm the one who wants to give something so, you're not obliged to." He pushes the box towards Anaxa, "Here, please take it."
Anaxa takes the box. He stares at it then back towards the man, "Thank you…?"
"Oh! Where are my manners?" The man chuckles before brandishing one hand for Anaxa to take, "I'm Phainon."
"Anaxagoras," Anaxa says as he takes the other's hand for a handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Anaxa," Phainon gleefully says.
Anaxa doesn't even bother correcting him, too distracted by the cold tiramisu in his one hand and the sun-like smile blinding his eyes. Another phenomenon surely induced by Penacony's fever dream.