I was confused. And, strictly speaking, I'm confused a lot of the times due to my worthless existence, but this was a whole new level.

A minute ago I had been with my winter camp friends touring New York and it's skyscrapers. We had to be getting back to the hotel by four, and I had just spotted a luxurious building just for the purposes of its luxurious bathrooms, and had walked in with Lucas and Chloe.

But they were—this was the part I was confused about—both gone now.

A wave of dizziness had hit me right as I had entered the building, and I had stumbled, reaching out for Chloe, then grasped bare air and fell to the ground.

I was sitting on the ground now, looking around the chic-ly designed lobby with its bustling crowd and gigantic modern-looking poster hung on one side. Where were they? Did they run to the restroom together? Maybe they had been a bit more desperate than I thought.

In the corner of my vision I spotted two guards striding towards me, which signaled that I had sat on the ground with my jaw hanging for a second too long. I hopped up, trying to look nonchalantly towards wherever the bathroom was, and, instead, found an information desk.

Voila. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and approached the lady behind the desk, who seemed preoccupied with typing some long sentences on her desktop. I smiled hopefully.

"Can you tell me where the-"

"Midtown, right?" She gestured offhandedly in the elevators direction. "It's that way."

"What? Um, no, I'm just trying to find where the restroom-"

"The restroom's inside the building, second floor. You'll-" Her phone rang, and she picked it up quickly. "Go on," She told me dismissively, and answered the call.

Um. What the fuck was Midtown and why did she think I was one?

I didn't think much about it, though I should have. I just wanted to go to the restroom, get Lucas and Chloe, and get back to the hotel. It was nearing ten to four. I passed through the gates with a nod from the guard, who strangely seemed to think that I belonged here, and paused in front of the elevators. There was a group of kids here too. They seemed my age, led by an obvious science teacher wearing a t-shirt that read What's the meanest acid? Amino acid! I winced, despite myself.

A field trip, then.

I leaned on the wall and grabbed my phone to text Chloe something angry-sounding.

dude where tf did you go

im headed to the bathroom wait there

There wasn't a reply. For fuck's sake.

"-you think Mr. Stark will show up? I mean you are spiderman-"

"Shh, Ned. I don't know, okay? Stop asking me that, someone might hear!"

My immediate reaction was to snort, which I did, as the familiar names caught my ears. American high-schoolers and their fucking superheroes—

I looked up and did a double take.

Someone who looked like Tom Holland's long lost twin brother was standing there, next to the chubby Asian kid from the Spiderman movies. Dressed like a nerd, amongst a crowd of teenagers.

The elevator pinged open. My mind was reeling, but not enough for me not to follow the group on to it.

What the hell was Tom Holland doing here in New York? Wasn't he British? Should I ask for an autograph? Or a selfie? Was he really Tom Holland? I knew Lucas was a huge fan, maybe I should get him to sign something for Lucas?

Or wait, did I just stumble onto a movie set by accident?

Maybe the actors were pranking someone. Yeah. I had seen actors making special appearances for sick kids on tv shows and shit. Maybe that was what was happening now?

I had no idea. And the opportunity to have the guy's signature was too huge to just miss.

I cleared my throat.

"Um, hey." English felt weird. Although I had used it for the entire duration of my summer camp, and was equally fluent with it and my native language, I just got a bit nervous sometimes. I worried I might mess up my pronunciation, or wording, and look like an idiot. Which I knew was stupid, because I don't have to be perfect at it. I continued.

"Can I have your-"

Holland wasn't even looking at me. Um. Dude? Can you give a least a fuck so I wouldn't freak?

I rolled my eyes, clearing my throat again. This time, he did look at me.

I smiled pointedly at him. "Can I have your-"

The elevator stopped, the door opening, and other teens rushed out, including that Asian guy. Holland was still looking at me.

"Can I have your autograph?"

Holland had a startled look on his face like a fucking deer caught in headlights, and I nearly doubted myself. It was an autograph right? In Korea we asked for signs. Or signatures. Wait, is he not Tom Holland?

"Excuse me?" Holland asked, edging back away from me like I was a psycho. Something, no, a lot of things felt wrong. Still, I barged on.

"A signature. An autograph. I'll get the paper just wai-"

"Why would you want my autograph?"

Okay so it was an autograph. Wait, what?

"What? What do you mean?"

"Why would you want my autograph," Holland repeated, nervously, and I frowned.

"Uh, duh?" I didn't want to like an ass in front of the guy almost all of my friends had crushes on at some point, and also someone I had read a gazillion fanfics about, but the guy was being a dick. Who says that to someone who wants their autograph? Even I would just sign someone if they asked, and I'm not even famous. As long as that person wasn't a con artist.

I stared at the guy. "Because you're famous. Because you're Spiderman."

Holland's face took on another shade of white that I hadn't even seen in wallpapers. White people were so weird.

"How did you know that?" He whispered, hands gripping the steel rails of the elevator. For a second I thought the bars were bending, but I dismissed it. It must have been a trick of the light.

"Uh," By this point, I was very very confused. Admittedly, a part of me wondered if it was worth all this trouble just to get this demented-sounding man's autograph, but, you know. The sacrifices you make for friends. Lucas had better be thankful. "Because I live in the modern society and I interact with other human beings? Because I watch-"

The doors closed, and I blinked furiously. "Shit," I swore, trying to get past the dude to open the elevator doors again. But Holland was frozen to the spot. "Uh, Mr. Holland? Get out of the way pleas-"

I was too late. The elevator was headed up to who knows where.

Never mind whatever trouble I would get into with the authorities if I wandered off in this building, I knew there could be even more trouble if Lucas and Chloe and I arrived to the hotel late. I shuddered at the possibilities. They could ground us from going to see that Halsey concert I had came to America for. Seriously.

"I have to go to the restroom!" I half-yelled at him, sounding a bit demented myself, but he was still frozen. I had no idea what he was thinking about. "R-restroom?" He faintly repeated after me, and I looked at the guy. What was seriously wrong with him? Has no one ever told him he was famous, even after interviews at Late Night Shows and parties in Las Vegas and all that nonsense? How was he this shocked at a girl asking for an autograph?

I moved to the panel, eyes fixed on what floor we were on. 23. 24. 26. Why the fuck was this thing so fucking fast?

I rammed all the buttons from thirty to forty and-

The elevator stopped. I looked down slowly, as the door opened on the 29th floor to-

Fucking Robert Downey Jr.

I stumbled back, running backwards into Holland as my brain just kind of lagged. Was this a dream? Had I read too many Marvel fics that I just lost it?

Holland grabbed my arms to steady me, finally out of his daze, and stood next to the door. He was looking anxiously at Downey.

The older man's gaze paused on him.

"Hey kid. Field trip, huh?"

"Uh, yeah, Mr. Stark."

That was when I realized this was definitely a dream.

Downey frowned at Holland. "You okay? You look a bit...pale."

I pinched my arm, the century-old trick. It hurt. Well. My mind started to hurt as well.

"I'm-I'm fine, sir. It's just-" He turned to look at me, and Downey's slid past him to rest on me. I focused past the light-headedness that I was starting to feel. This was crazy. This was so fucking crazy that I almost felt like I was going to faint, Victorian Era Lady Style, a hand over my forehead.

All the pieces fell into place if I just accepted the madness. And if I just acknowledged the truth staring at me in the face. That-

"Who are you?" Downey-no, Tony Stark asked suspiciously and I slacked against the elevator wall. An involuntary sigh escaped my mouth. Might as well as just give up trying to make this make sense. I kept staring.

"Do you want my real name, or my English name?" I asked back, because I knew I had to say something, and Stark raised an eyebrow.

"Both."

"Eunseo Regis Lee."

"And h-how do you know?" Peter Parker stammered, and Tony Stark's gaze narrowed on him.

"Know what?"

"That-that I'm-" Peter took a deep breath, and released. "That I'm Spiderman."

Tony Stark's head snapped towards me and I knew then. I knew that I had just been royally fucked by whatever god that was out there, hating my worthless existence.

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