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Spider-Man: Black and Blue (AU) Chapter 25: Are you Crying~ (Start of Volume 2)
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 07:53:38 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
Richard stood outside of Damon’s home, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as he pressed the doorbell repeatedly. A large, overstuffed backpack hung from his shoulders. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes had a restless urgency to them.
After a moment, the door creaked open to reveal Daphne, Damon’s older sister, wearing an oversized T-shirt and fuzzy socks. She blinked in surprise at the unexpected visitor standing on her doorstep.
“Richard?” she asked, raising a brow. “What are you doing here so late?”
Richard forced a tight, nervous smile, trying to mask the tension in his posture. “Is Damon home?”
Daphne glanced over her shoulder and then motioned vaguely up the stairs. “I didn’t hear him come in earlier, but I think I heard the shower running a few minutes ago. So... probably?”
“Perfect,” Richard muttered with a mix of relief and impatience, stepping past her without waiting for an invitation and making a beeline for the stairs.
As he jogged up the first few steps, Daphne called after him, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Oh hey Daphne, how are you doing? Oh me? I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking, Richard! What’s that? You wanna come in? Sure, come right on in, make yourself at home!”
She waved her arms theatrically and slammed the door shut behind him.
Richard paused halfway up the staircase and gave her a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Yeah, okay, fair point. Sup, Daph.”
“Too late for that, don’t you think?” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Just go.”
Richard chuckled under his breath in embarrassment and picked up the pace. He had just reached the top step when Daphne cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted through the house, her voice high-pitched and overly sweet.
“Daaaamoooon! Your boyfriend is here!!”
Richard missed a step and nearly stumbled, catching himself just in time. He whipped his head around to glare at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
But Daphne only burst into a fit of laughter, clearly unbothered, and disappeared into the kitchen to make herself a late-night snack.
Muttering under his breath, Richard shook his head and made his way toward Damon’s room. He knocked once out of courtesy before stepping inside, where he found Damon shirtless, fastening the belt on his pants, his body glistening slightly from the shower.
Richard closed the door behind him with a soft thud. “You doing okay?” he asked carefully, eyeing Damon’s posture.
“No,” Damon replied flatly. “I feel like shit.”
“Right... yeah. Dumb question. I meant injury-wise. How’s the damage?”
In response, Damon slowly turned his back toward him and pointed over his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Richard took one look and immediately recoiled. “Oh god…” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “No offense, but that is disgusting. I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?” Damon quipped with a smirk, catching Richard’s expression.
Richard stared back, deadpan.
Damon let out a groan and sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, exhaling. “You should’ve seen it before the shower. And if you’re wondering if it just looks worse than it feels? It doesn’t. It hurts just as bad as it looks.”
Richard's expression softened. He walked over, set his backpack on the bed, and unzipped it. Inside, there was a smaller bag with supplies and a neatly folded stack of clothes.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d need, so I grabbed a few things from the pharmacy—bandages, antiseptic, pain meds. Oh, and your clothes. You left them behind.” He hesitated before continuing, “I drove around the area for a bit, tried to see if maybe you were still there and needed help, but when I didn’t spot you anywhere… I figured you made your way back home.”
He reached into the bag again and pulled out a camera, holding it up with a slight grin. “Also… this. The cops were crawling all over the place, but I managed to snag it before they saw.”
Damon raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Richard nodded. “Now come on, sit still. Let me fix you up.”
He crouched beside Damon and began pulling out medical supplies. Both of them weren’t strangers to bruises and busted ribs—they boxed, fought, trained. This wasn’t their first time patching each other up.
“The best medical advice I can give you right now?” Richard said, cracking open a disinfectant bottle, “Grit those pearly whites. This is gonna hurt.”
---
Meanwhile, Daphne climbed the stairs with a plate of sandwiches and a tall glass of soda in her hands. Humming a little to herself, she strolled past Damon’s room and slowed as she heard voices coming from inside.
Then—
“Ughhhh!! I said be gentle!!” Damon’s voice cried out in agony.
“Don’t blame me!” Richard shot back. “I warned you it was gonna hurt! I distinctly remember telling you to grit your teeth!”
“God damn it, fuck!” Damon hissed, clearly wincing again.
“I am being gentle. So stop crying about it and take it like a man!”
Daphne froze, her eyes going wide. A beat passed. Then she did a full spit-take, spraying her soda all over herself. She coughed violently, clutching her chest as she stumbled into her room. Using her foot to kick the door shut behind her, she staggered to her desk and set the plate and glass down with trembling hands.
She was panting like she’d run a marathon.
“Oh my god…” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Holy shit… I was joking earlier—Jesus Christ.”
She sat down slowly, still catching her breath, eyes wide with shock. “I freakin’ knew it…”
…
Richard stared at Damon in silence, his hands gently working to wrap fresh bandages around his friend’s bruised torso. His fingers trembled slightly, not from exhaustion but from the weight sitting heavy on his chest. His expression was conflicted—equal parts guilt, fear, and regret. The silence stretched between them.
Finally, Richard spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry…”
Damon, still wincing slightly from the pressure of the bandages, turned his head over his shoulder, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”
“This is all my fault…” Richard said, biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes dropped to the floor. “If I hadn’t pushed you into being a hero—if I hadn’t insisted on dragging you into this—you wouldn’t be like this right now. You wouldn’t be bandaged up, you wouldn’t have nearly bled out, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have almost died tonight.”
He sighed, finishing the last wrap and tying it off with shaky fingers. “I’m realizing now... maybe it was selfish of me. I kept thinking we could do some good, make a difference, but I didn’t really consider what it could cost you. I’m sorry, man. I really am.”
Damon turned to look at him fully now, eyes glinting with mischief despite the pain in his body. He tilted his head with a teasing grin. “Wait... are you crying~? Please tell me you're crying.”
Richard scowled and immediately wiped at his face—even though there were no tears. “I’m not crying, you dickhead! And I’m being serious right now!”
Damon chuckled, clearly not taking the bait. “I know you are. I can tell. And that’s why I’m messing with you—because I appreciate what you're saying. Really. But, Richy man, come on... look at the bigger picture.”
He smiled, soft and genuine now. “Yeah, I almost got myself killed. I’m bruised, bloody, and feel like I got thrown into a cement mixer. But you know what else happened because of your ‘selfish’ idea? We saved people today. A lot of them. We stopped something that could’ve turned into a massacre. And no one else was around to stop it. We were.”
He placed a firm hand on Richard’s shoulder and gave him a couple of friendly shakes, his eyes locking with his friend’s. “Because you pushed me, there are people who are alive right now. Kids who got to go home to their parents. Families that didn’t have to suffer. It might not feel like it, but we are making a difference in this world.”
Richard clenched his jaw, torn between being moved and crushed. “Damn it, Damon… You don’t get it. If something happens to you—if you die out there—that’s not going to be on you. That’s going to be on me. Because I’m the one who pushed you into this. No one else. Just me. And I’ll have to live with that. Forever.”
Damon grew serious, the humor gone from his expression now. He let out a breath and nodded slowly. “I get what you're saying, Rich. I really do. But listen to me… If someone dies because I wasn't out there—because I stayed home when I could have helped—that’s on me. I’ve got power now. Power to help. If I choose not to use it, and someone dies because of that, then that blood’s on my hands.”
His voice steadied, filled with conviction.
“I chose this. You didn’t force me. You nudged me, sure. But the decision was mine. And every time I suit up, it’s still mine. I could quit whenever I wanted to. But I don’t. Not because of guilt, not because of pressure—but because I want to. Because it’s the right thing to do. If I die out there… that’s not your burden to carry, man. That’s mine. That’s my responsibility.”
Richard looked away, emotions tightening his face, but Damon reached out and tapped his shoulder once more.
“You’re not alone in this. Don’t carry the blame like you’re the only one walking this road. We all made our choice to be in the fight. And I’m proud of what we’ve done… even if it hurts like hell.”
There was a long pause before Richard finally nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “…You're still a dumbass,” he muttered with a sigh.
Damon smirked. “Takes one to know one.”
