▄▄ ˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 'ˎ˗ ──
IN WHICH , ── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
after Spider-man almost breaks
into her window, Amala has to
balance her two new lives: the
life where she knows him and the
life where she falls for Peter Parker . .
▄▄ *+...
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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE; you take, take, take but won't give, give, give.
"PETER PARKER IS SPIDER-MAN?"
Matte Mac lipstick is applied to Amala's lips, it's warm nude shade bringing out the plump of her lips. Around her, brushes and vials of mascara are sprawled across the vanity, messily placed next to an empty bag. Quiet music plays — The Neighborhood, maybe — while she gets ready. Akira sits on the sink besides the vanity, her feet swaying back and fourth.
"I don't know, Aki." Amala replies, her lips pursed. "I don't know anything, to be honest."
Akira hums and plays with a wavy strand of hair. "I mean, I thought you sounded crazy — no offense — but when you laid it all out for me... I mean — it's crazy but it makes sense."
Sighing, Amala studies her makeup in the mirror. It's slightly darker than usual, since they'll be attended "The Carnival of Lights" tonight. For this, Amala had gone a bit heavier with her eyeliner and highlighter, making sure it would pop amongst all the lights.
"What are you gonna do about it?" Her best friend queries.
Looking away from the vanity and at Akira, Amala pulls a face. "Sorry?"
Akira hops off of the counter. "What are you going to do about Peter maybe being Spider-man?"
"Um, nothing?" Her voice ends in question. "I mean, what can I do? It's not like I can walk up to him and say 'Hey, Peter! What's up? I know you're maybe Spider-man but your secret is safe with me!'" She deadpans.
Akira hums, reaching Amala's phone to change whatever song is playing on Spotify.
Amala turns back towards the mirror, packing her makeup into her bag and keeping the lipstick so she can put in her purse.
"Um... Amala?"
"Yeah, Aki?" She replies absentmindedly.
Her voice wavers. "Um... Peter just texted you."
Tightening the straps of her bra, Amala accidentally lets go at the news and it snaps against her shoulder harshly. "Fuck! What?"
She catches Akira nod through the reflection and place her phone on the counter.
Amala looks at it; her moon lock-screen stares back at her as a single text banner appears.
They haven't spoken since their last night in Venice. In some ways, she's come to terms the way they left off. In other ways, she's bitter.
