Chapter 136: Holiday Night

……I really went through hell.

After parting ways with Michelle, I fought aliens in a building who were trying to take over Earth… got shot with some sci-fi-looking beam gun, fell, rolled around… all that. Then another group of aliens showed up and captured the ones trying to take over.

Apparently they were a group of justice? aliens. Supposedly defenders of the galaxy. There was a woman with antennae and a huge guy with rock-colored skin. Those two beat the aliens senseless and hauled them off to their ship.

Yeah, case closed.

But… what about the time? I fiddled with the small smartwatch I had integrated into my web-shooter.

The little screen lit up with the hour. …10 p.m.

Is Manhattan this dark because of clouds? Nah, it’s just late at night.

Hahaha.

Haah…

The worst.

I even got invited to a Christmas party by those so-called justice? aliens from outer space… I turned them down, of course. Said I had a girlfriend waiting at home, and they finally gave up.

According to the rocky-skinned alien guy──

『I get it too. Family’s something you gotta treasure. Even more than a Grizzly Kill, y’know』

I had no idea what he meant. Maybe just some alien cultural thing? But──

『What the hell are you talking about?』

The antenna-headed woman looked just as puzzled, so yeah, probably he’s just weird.

Anyway, after finishing my little stint of saving the day, I hurried home.

Not on foot. Not even web-swinging.

The subway.

I was still wearing my suit, sitting on the subway.

"…………"

The stares from teens coming back from a Christmas party were painful.

Couldn’t be helped. I’d used up almost all my raw web fluid. Swinging all the way from Manhattan to Queens? No way.

So, subway it was. Since I left my clothes with Michelle, I had to stay in costume.

After enduring a hellish ride, I finally reached Queens and swung the rest of the way to my apartment. Just as I thought, my web shooters ran dry, but hey—I barely made it home.

I landed on the rooftop. Snow crunched beneath my feet with a creaking sound.

"…………"

The freezing wind cut through me, making me straighten my back. I climbed down from the snow-covered roof and made my way along the wall to my room.

A glance at the clock… 11 p.m. Michelle’s probably asleep by now.

Feeling guilty, I opened the window and slipped inside—

"Welcome back, Peter."

"Whoa!?"

Michelle, lying across the bed, called out to me.

"‘Whoa’ what? Why are you so surprised?"

"Ah, no… I just thought you’d be asleep already."

"You promised we’d eat dinner together."

"…Right. Sorry I’m late."

Feeling apologetic, I pulled off my mask. Michelle’s slightly sulky expression softened into something gentler.

"Mm, I’ll let it slide. I kept the food warm, so why don’t you take a shower first?"

"…Yeah, got it. Thanks."

"…Hey, are you hurt? You’re not, right?"

"I’m fine. Got shot, but I’m okay."

I flexed an arm like I was showing off a muscle. Michelle made a face like she’d just bitten into something bitter. …Apparently, my ‘I’m fine’ and ‘Don’t worry’ don’t carry much credibility.

"But you were shot…? You’re really okay?"

Michelle brushed her hand against my side, checking for injuries. It tickled more than anything.

"R-really, I’m fine…"

I twisted away, escaping her inspection.

"…Hmph."

While Michelle eyed me suspiciously, I quickly ducked into the shower room. Tossing my once-again battered suit into the basket, I stepped under the water.

The stream pelted against my body.

The heat trapped in my body washed away with it, and some of the tension inside me finally eased.

"…Fuu."

I let out a breath, turned off the faucet, and toweled myself off, sniffling a bit. At the same time, a delicious smell reached my nose. With a flicker of expectation, I stepped out of the shower room.

A pot bubbled, steam rising—it had clearly been heating even before I got back.

"Smells good."

I murmured, and Michelle turned around.

"…Want a little taste?"

"Really?"

"Mm, sure."

She poured some of the dark red soup into a small mug. I took a sip of the thick broth, vegetables melted into it.

The tartness and sweetness of tomato seeped deep into my tired body.

"…Yeah, that’s good."

"Glad to hear it. Dinner’ll be ready soon, so can you wait a bit?"

"Yeah. Anything I can help with?"

"Then, could you set out the glasses and… a plate for the chicken?"

She said that while pulling pastry dough out of the fridge.

…Michelle’s gotten so much better at cooking. I thought to myself. Back at the start, it was saltless pasta or burnt scrambled eggs. But even those are good memories now.

I looked at the dishes laid out on the table.

On top of a large mug sat a crust of pie dough. In the center of the table, an uncut whole chicken stood proudly.

"Peter. Everything’s ready, let’s eat."

"Yeah, I’ll gladly dig in."

We sat down facing each other. I picked up a fork and broke through the pie crust—inside was the same soup I’d tasted earlier.

I dipped a piece of the pie crust into the soup and brought it to my mouth. The tomato-based broth blended with the slightly oily pastry and—

"…It’s really delicious."

"Mm, I’m glad."

Michelle crunched happily on her share, smiling faintly. Maybe she was hungrier than usual, because she was eating a bit faster tonight.

"Sorry for coming home so late. I wanted to make it back earlier, but… stuff happened."

"It’s fine. I mean, not like I didn’t care… but I’m not mad."

…So she was a little down about it. Guilt weighed heavy in my chest.

"…You waited all this time for dinner. Even though it’s so late."

"Mm, but… for me, who I eat with matters more than what I eat. So waiting doesn’t bother me."

"…R-right."

"Exactly. So you don’t need to worry, Peter."

She said it firmly and took another sip of soup. …Maybe it’d be bad to apologize any further. Michelle wasn’t asking for it. If I kept at it, it’d just be self-indulgence. If I really cared about her feelings, I should let it go.

I took another sip of soup.

"Peter, I’m cutting up the chicken… how much do you want?"

"I’m starving, so give me a lot."

Michelle grabbed a knife from the kitchen and expertly carved into the chicken, avoiding the bones with precision.

I took a piece she served me and bit in. The spices kicked in right away… yeah, this was good too.

Michelle’s lips curved into a smile.

"Mm… not bad at all."

"Yeah, it’s really tasty."

A holiday night. Sharing a warm meal with the person I love.

The perfect Christmas. The warmth seeped into me all the way down to my core.

Was it the hot soup? The spiced chicken? Or… was it the smile of the woman I love?

Probably all of the above. I let out a small breath.

"This year’s almost over already…"

"Mm. A lot happened this year."

Michelle nodded. And she was right—so much had happened.

Both as Spider-Man and Nightcap. And as Peter Parker and Michelle Jane.

As I thought back, Michelle smiled softly.

"I’m… really glad I can do something so normal as this, like any couple."

"…Yeah."

"Ordinary days matter too. But being able to spend a special day like this with you, Peter, makes me happy."

Her words made me a little embarrassed, but I nodded.

"That’s true for me too. Being with you, Michelle… that makes me happy as well. And from now on—"

Yes, this "ordinary" was an irreplaceable happiness. Something earned by the efforts of me, of her… and so many others. A daily life that wasn’t the least bit boring.

Because I knew the pain and fear of losing it, I understood how precious this everyday happiness was.

After we finished dinner, Michelle took out a cake from the fridge. Since it was just the two of us, it wasn’t a whole cake, just pre-sliced pieces.

Three slices.

…Wait, what?

"Michelle, why are there three slices?"

It was just me and Michelle here. Two people. Yet there were three slices. One extra—

"Because I’m eating two."

"Eh? Ah, yeah… huh?"

For a second, I thought I’d misheard. But no, this was reality.

"…What?"

"Ah, no, nothing at all?"

Faced with Michelle’s uncompromising gaze, all I could do was nod. I was weak.

"Peter, which one do you want?"

"Eh? Uh… this one, just the normal cake."

"Strawberry shortcake? Okay, got it."

Even though she was taking two slices for herself, she still let me choose first. …Somehow, I felt a strange kind of thoughtfulness in that.

I ate my cake while Michelle dug into her chocolate—uh, gâteau au chocolat?—and a blueberry tart.

"…You really do love sweets, huh, Michelle?"

"Well, yeah. Sugar’s been around since forever—it’s basically a legal narcotic drug."

"I-is it really that extreme?"

Michelle licked the chocolate cream off the corner of her mouth. Bad manners, maybe, but we were at home… and I wasn’t about to complain, so it was fine.

After finishing the cake, I started washing the dishes. Michelle had done all the cooking, so at least I could handle this much.

As I stood with my back to her, scrubbing plates, I heard a rustling sound. My hyper-alert spider sense didn’t react, which meant it wasn’t anything dangerous.

I finished stacking the dishes into the drying rack and turned around—

Michelle was holding a large box. When she noticed my gaze, she quickly set it down at her feet.

"Michelle, what’s that?"

"I went back to pick it up while you were gone."

"Ah, no, that’s not what I meant—"

I tilted my head. I wanted to know what was inside and what it was for, but instead she answered how she’d brought it.

Then I remembered what today was. Yes, it was… Christmas, now that the date had changed.

"A Christmas present?"

"Exactly."

"…I see."

It wasn’t like I’d forgotten. Christmas meant exchanging gifts… and yeah, I’d come prepared.

I opened the desk drawer and pulled out a small box. Compared to Michelle’s big package, mine looked tiny… I knew the size of the gift didn’t equal the size of the feelings behind it, but lined up like this, I couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

"…Mm, Peter. Open it."

"O-okay."

It’d be embarrassing if she realized what I was thinking. Shaking those thoughts off, I tore the wrapping from the big box.

Inside was—

"A sewing machine?"

"Yeah, a brand-new multifunctional model. It’s computer-assisted."

"Heh…"

"I figured it’d help with fixing your suits, or even making them."

I lifted the box to look at the packaging. The thing had all sorts of advanced features. …Actually, wasn’t this one of the expensive models?

…Not something I’d say out loud in front of Michelle, though.

I glanced at her. She wore a confident expression, but her smile was just slightly stiff. Noticing that small crack in her composure, I nodded.

"Yeah, I’m really happy. Thanks, Michelle."

At those words, Michelle let out a faintly relieved smile. …She must’ve been worried I wouldn’t like it.

Honestly, anything she chose for me after putting in the thought—I’d be glad to have.

I smiled a little.

"Then… here’s mine."

"Mm, I’m looking forward to it."

"…D-don’t raise the bar too high, okay?"

I handed her the small, palm-sized box. Compared to the sewing machine, it was light and tiny.

"Can I open it?"

"Of course."

Michelle carefully unwrapped it, like handling something fragile. Then she opened the matte black box inside.

"…A ring?"

Yes. What I’d prepared was a ring. A silver ring with a spiral engraving.

It was a present I’d picked out after consulting with Gwen. …Not exactly the most praiseworthy move, asking another girl about a gift for my girlfriend, but still.

I recalled the conversation.

『I’m thinking of giving Michelle a Christmas present, but—』

『Huh? Just get her a ring. About time you manned up.』

『Uh… huh?』

I didn’t really get the “manned up” part, but anyway, I took her advice and got the ring.

Wondering if Michelle was pleased, I looked back at her—

Her face was bright red, frozen in place.

"Eh? Michelle? What’s wrong?"

"Peter… i-is this, um—"

She blinked rapidly, looking up at me with eyes that were just a little watery. Her heated gaze pierced right through me—

"A-an engagement ring, is that it?"

I choked. Loudly.

Of course! Gwen recommending a ring… she meant that! I was the idiot for not realizing.

But she was right. There was no way this didn’t look like a proposal. It looked like an engagement ring—an Engagement Ring.

Flustered, I rushed to explain.

"Th-that’s not what I meant—"

I forced the words out somehow… and I could see Michelle’s face slowly clouding over.

No. That’s not what the ring was for.

But also, no. I never wanted her to look like that.

So—

"Um…"

"…Peter?"

"The ring, it’s… well…"

"…………"

Michelle stood there holding the box with the ring inside, looking at me. Her eyes filled with unease, her face worried.

… I exhaled.
There’s nothing to hesitate over.

It’s something I’d always thought I’d do someday. It might as well be now.

"C-could we… make it an engagement ring? I mean, if you’d like that, Michelle…"

I said it.
The words escaped my mouth.

A roundabout, pitiful confession.
Pathetic words that I couldn’t take back.

I couldn’t meet Michelle’s gaze. This was cowardice. But still, it was wrapped in embarrassment and just a trace of fear—

"…Yes, Peter."

When I lifted my face, she was there smiling, cheeks softening in joy.

Truly, genuinely happy—so much that even I could tell, just by looking at her.

Once, she barely showed emotion at all. But now, she could express herself like this… and that made me happy, too. Happy enough that I couldn’t help smiling myself.

"…………"

"…………"

Our eyes met, but after a moment we each glanced slightly away.
The embarrassment was sweet, almost as if the air smelled faintly of sugar.

Silence lingered between us—

"Peter, can I put it on?"

The one who broke that silence was Michelle.

"Y-yeah. Go ahead."

When I nodded, she picked up the ring… and looked at me with a smile.

"…Actually, could you put it on me instead?"

"Me?"

"Mm. I want you to."

She handed the ring to me.

I blinked, unsure of her intention, but still lifted my eyes toward her hand, ready to slip it onto her finger.

Michelle’s slender, pale fingers—so beautiful—

"…Ah."

It was her left hand she offered, and… her ring finger.

I held my breath as I slid the ring onto it—

"…………"

My heart jumped.
The ring now rested on the ring finger of the woman I loved.

That fact alone seemed to announce that our relationship had moved forward, and heat spread through my body.

"…Thank you, Peter. I’ll treasure it."

"Y-yeah…"

Michelle raised her hand toward the ceiling.
Her eyes narrowed—was it from the glare of the light overhead, or—

Squeeze.

—she hugged me.

"…Michelle?"

"I’m just so happy. I needed to be sure this isn’t a dream—"

Her arms around me were strong.

"…I wanted to know this is really real."

She held me tight, as if afraid I might slip away.
… I wrapped my arms around her back.

"…It’s not a dream."

"I know. But still…"

Quietly, we held each other.
As if to confirm each other’s existence.

A little later.

Michelle was sitting on the bed.
She kept gazing at the ring on her ring finger.

Every time I saw her do it, I felt a little embarrassed.

What I’d given her was an engagement ring.
It wasn’t the same as a wedding ring… but still.

It was a ring that promised marriage.

Of course, I had always thought that someday I wanted to be with Michelle in that way—that we would become husband and wife.

But now, it was starting to feel real.

Still—

『We’ll get married after we graduate from university and find jobs.』

That’s how it was decided.

Right now, I’m just a student, barely getting by on scholarship money.
In this situation, I can’t exactly say I have the means to support us.

At the very least, I should wait until I can live on my own.
That was the agreement we came to.

Michelle accepted it.
… I looked at her.

"…Hehe."

She sat there grinning, eyes fixed on the ring on her left hand.

If it makes her this happy, then… yeah.

I have worries, and there are plenty of things to think about in the future. But if she’s happy, then that’s enough.

Outside the window, snow was falling slowly.
The small flakes touched the glass… and quietly melted away.