The hallway was its usual midday chaos. Students shuffled between classes, lockers slammed, voices rose and fell like a living tide. Raj moved through it like a ghost—hoodie on, bag slung across his shoulder, eyes low.
He wasn't avoiding anyone.
But he wasn't looking to be found either.
After gym, something inside him had started to feel... unsettled. Not like a stomachache or nerves. More like a low, rising pressure. Like his body had caught fire, but in slow motion. Not burning—building.
The sunlight still kissed the school windows. It was weaker now, but he felt it. Feeding him. Whispering through his skin.
Every cell in his body already felt full.
He was halfway to Physics class when it happened.
Flash Thompson stepped out from behind a row of lockers like he'd been waiting, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Yo. Raj."
Raj stopped.
People moved around them like water around a rock, but the space between them felt still.
"You've been weird lately," Flash said. "Even weirder than usual."
Raj sighed softly. "Not today, Flash."
"Oh, come on. Don't act like you're too good for conversation now that you've leveled up." Flash took a step closer. "You catch one dodgeball and suddenly you think you're hot stuff?"
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. Everyone saw it."
Raj's jaw tightened. He tried to walk past.
Flash reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
And that was the mistake.
The moment Flash's hand touched him—skin to hoodie to skin—Raj's body reacted on instinct.
A pulse.
Not like a heartbeat. Like a sunflare.
Heat surged under Raj's skin, through his shoulder, and into Flash's hand. Not visible, not dramatic—but real.
Flash jerked his hand back with a sharp curse. "Ow! What the hell—"
He shook out his fingers, as if he'd touched a stovetop.
Raj didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He was too busy controlling his breathing. Slowing the thrum inside his chest. Pressing the pressure back down before it reached his hands again.
"I didn't do anything," Raj said quietly.
Flash's face twisted between confusion and aggression. "You're burning hot. What the hell are you—"
"Nothing," Raj cut in. "I'm nothing."
The lie tasted wrong.
Behind them, footsteps slowed.
Peter Parker had turned the corner and paused. His gaze landed on Flash, then on Raj, and lingered.
"Everything good?" Peter asked casually, eyes flicking between the two.
Flash scoffed, still rubbing his fingers. "Yeah, sunshine here just needs to watch his thermostat."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Thermostat?"
"Whatever. Freak." Flash shoved past them, muttering as he went.
Peter stepped forward as the crowd swallowed Flash. He didn't say anything at first.
Raj adjusted the strap of his backpack. "It's nothing."
Peter didn't look convinced.
"You okay?" he asked.
Raj gave a small nod. "Just tired."
Peter hesitated. His voice dropped a little. "You know, people don't just overheat like that from gym class."
Raj met his eyes. "Yeah. I noticed."
Peter looked at him a second longer, then offered a lopsided smile. "Well… for what it's worth, you handled that better than I would've."
Raj's expression didn't change. But something in his chest loosened slightly.
"Thanks."
Peter nodded once, then continued down the hallway, blending into the crowd.
Raj stood there a moment longer.
The sun through the window touched the side of his face.
He closed his eyes.
And let the warmth fade.
Later, in the boys' bathroom, Raj rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie and looked at the skin on his shoulder.
Nothing visible.
No mark. No glow.
But it felt different. Like something inside him had uncoiled. Flexed. It hadn't struck, but it had looked.
He splashed cold water on his face.
Watched the drops evaporate faster than they should've.
His reflection stared back at him, jaw clenched, eyes sharp.
He wasn't losing control.
But the cracks were showing.
And someone had seen.
___
The sky was bleeding orange by the time Raj walked out of Midtown.
He didn't take the bus. He didn't want the noise, the chatter, the chance someone would ask him something he wasn't ready to lie about. Instead, he walked the long way home—head down, hoodie up, the soft thump of his sneakers echoing through side streets lined with rusted fences and cracked pavement.
New York was loud, but in these slivers of quiet between neighborhoods, it almost felt like a different city. A softer one. A place where the sky still touched you and didn't just hover.
He liked that part.
What he didn't like was the way his hands still felt warm.
Not "fresh from the pocket" warm. Not even "just exercised" warm.
They pulsed faintly. Not visible, not enough to scare someone. Just enough for him to feel it under his skin, like light trapped in veins that weren't meant to hold it.
He'd been holding back all day. Holding in.
The catch in dodgeball. The beaker in chemistry. The too-smooth run in gym. Flash's burned hand.
It wasn't just tension anymore. It was leakage.
His body was trying to show the world what it was becoming.
And Raj wasn't ready to let it.
He found a low wall near the edge of the park and sat down, letting his legs dangle over the side. The sun was sinking fast now, brushing the rooftops in lazy gold. Clouds stretched long across the sky, streaked with lavender and pink.
Raj pulled his hood down and let the last of the light hit his face.
He expected it to feel comforting.
It didn't.
It felt… demanding.
Like a parent standing silently in the corner of the room. Not yelling. Not punishing. Just watching.
Waiting.
He opened his palms to the sun. Just for a second.
The warmth poured in instantly.
But it didn't stop at skin.
It slid into his muscles. Nestled into his bones. Sank deep into his chest and pooled there like molten metal. His fingertips shimmered faintly—only visible if you looked closely.
He closed his hands again.
Tight.
His jaw clenched.
"You're not as good at hiding as you think."
MJ's words echoed in his head.
So did Peter's look in the hallway. The suspicion. The empathy.
They weren't stupid.
And this world—this Marvel universe—had seen stranger things than glowing fair boys in hoodies.
They'd start connecting the dots soon.
And when they did… what would they think?
What would they do?
Would they ask questions?
Or would they label him a threat?
A mutant?
An accident?
A weapon?
Raj rubbed his thumb along the edge of his palm and felt the subtle heat shimmer again.
He didn't know what he was yet.
And that was the part that scared him most.
He sat there until the sky turned purple.
Until the sun finally dipped behind the skyline and his body cooled for the first time all day.
The glow faded.
The pressure ebbed.
He felt lighter—but not better.
Just hollow.
When he got home, the apartment was still and quiet, like it had been waiting for him to return with bad news.
He tossed his bag in the corner, kicked off his shoes, and walked straight to the bathroom.
The mirror greeted him with a stranger.
Same face. Same eyes.
But something behind them had shifted.
He turned on the faucet. Splashed water on his face. Watched it steam off his skin a little too fast.
He stared at his reflection and whispered,
"I'm still Raj."
Silence.
The mirror didn't argue. But it didn't agree either.
He walked to the balcony one last time.
The stars were coming out now—tiny, silver freckles in the deepening sky. The moon hadn't risen yet, and the city lights weren't strong enough to erase the darkness fully.
For once, the sun was gone.
And Raj felt more like himself.
More human.
He leaned on the railing, breathing in the night air.
It smelled different than home.
Mumbai's air had spice, dust, life packed into every molecule.
New York's air felt cleaner, but lonelier. Like everything here had space to fall apart quietly.
Raj looked down at his hands again.
No shimmer now.
Just fingers.
Flesh.
Skin.
The body of a teenager who wasn't supposed to be here.
The soul of someone from somewhere else entirely.
He closed his hands and pressed them to his chest.
He didn't want to be a god.
He didn't want to be a weapon.
He just wanted to keep walking these streets like he belonged here.
To laugh again without hiding.
To live without the sun asking him to become something more than he ever wanted to be.
But the truth was already there.
Crawling beneath his skin.
Singing in his blood.
This wasn't a dream anymore.
It was a countdown.
"I'm not losing control. Not yet. But I'm not just Raj anymore."