Chapter Text
It wasn’t the best routine - but it was a routine nevertheless. No matter the month of year, no matter the season: every Friday night without exception you’d find yourself sitting across from a man, at some fancy restaurant, wearing a tight dress that’d hopefully impress. You’d spend the evening making conversation, making up stories about yourself, -because that made things more exciting-, not one bit interested in the stories you had to hear in return.
The night usually had two possible outcomes. If the man paid for dinner, and if he hadn’t managed to repulse you in those, let’s say, three hours, you’d probably go home with him. However, if he didn’t meet those requirements, you’d politely say your goodbyes, make a false promise of calling back, and walk yourself back to your apartment.
This Friday was one of the first possible outcomes kind of night. That’s how you found yourself at a pharmacy at past midnight, dressed in all your glory and shame, buying a morning-after pill. You rarely let yourself have these mishaps, but hey, sometimes shit happens. At least the guy had had the decency to give you the money for the pill.
After grabbing a chocolate bar, you stood in line behind a man. There was only another guy in front of him, who was taking his sweet time buying a bunch of vitamins. You rolled your eyes, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a big bite out of it. In the dead of the night, the pharmacy was in complete silence, except for the beeping of the scanner. So it made sense that the sound of the wrapper made the man in front of you turn around. It was only supposed to be a glance, but when he caught proper sight of you, you heard a small gasp followed by your name in a whisper.
Honestly, there were a lot of men in New York who knew your name. But nothing in the world could have prepared you to expect this specific man.
“Peter?” You asked, the name sounding strange in your mouth, like an intrusion, a foreign object in your mouth.
“It’s really you” he chuckled in amusement. He had turned his entire body towards you now, gaping at you with wide, curious eyes. He looked at you from head to toe, his gaze stopping for a second on the tiny box you were holding. You motioned to hide it behind your back, which was probably pointless, since he had already seen it.
“It’s been, how much, ten years?” You said, wanting to slap yourself after. Seriously, couldn’t you have found a more cliché phrase to say to your high school, and college boyfriend? This definitely wasn’t one of your proudest moments.
“Yeah, or a bit more, God” Peter chuckled, you smiled awkwardly.
You thanked heaven when the guy standing in front of Peter finally left, him getting distracted by having to pay. He walked away from the store without saying another word, and after you paid for your stuff as well, you thought you were off the hook, exhaling deeply as you got outside. Yet, Peter was waiting for you.
“So” he leaned against a wall, staring at you with the same amused look. “What are you doing these days?”
Oh God, great. Now he wanted to catch up. Couldn’t he save this stuff for your high school reunion, or something?
“I’m working at the bank”
“Oh, that’s great, which one?”
“Um, New Wave” you ran your hand across your forehead, really wanting to remove yourself from this situation.
“Cool, I have that bank” he smiled widely, and you noticed he had the exact same, big and bright smile he always used to have. You took a second to look at him. Really look at him.
The first thing you noticed was that his hair was shorter, very neat too, not a hair out of place. He was wearing a light blue shirt, tucked in some well pressed black pants. His shoes were a bit dirty, but they looked rather new. Something seemed off, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, until you realized he was wearing glasses. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him in glasses, he had stopped using them back in high school. He didn’t even need them. Honestly, everything seemed a bit off. But only because you could notice the passing of the years in his face. Not that he looked old, he just looked very different to how you remembered him - very different to your Peter.
The images of the two Peter’s, the young and the older one, contrasted in your head, and it took a moment for you to comprehend that the man standing in front of you was really the same person you had shared so many moments with. You weren’t watching a movie where they casted someone new to play the older version of a character, when you could easily notice that though they were similar, they were not the same person at all. In this case, he actually was the same person, and suddenly you started feeling very cramped. The brisk air wasn’t enough, the ghost of the story you two shared was constricting you, an overwhelming tightness in your chest.
“What about you?” You asked, your voice faint. You didn’t know why you were prolonging the conversation, ignoring your body’s pleas for escape.
“I’m a teacher” he smiled. “Chemistry”
“Figures” you let out a small laugh, remembering how Peter had always excelled at the subject.
“Yeah, I really like it. I’m also giving some photography classes on the side”
“You still do photography?” You were quite surprised. It was like Peter hadn’t even changed at all.
“It’s nothing professional, but yeah” he paused. “You still write?”
“No”
Peter nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off you. It was as if he was trying to find remains of the old you in this unfamiliar woman who only looks a bit like someone he used to know.
“There’s a big difference between working at the bank and writing” he observed.
“Yeah, I just, it wasn’t in the cards” you looked down, playing with your fingers.
For the first time, you glanced at what Peter had bought in the drugstore. You raised your eyebrows, noticing a box of tampons. He followed your gaze, staring at his hands and letting out a chuckle.
“Not for me, clearly. They’re for my wife”
A wife. Of course. Your breath caught in your throat, you weren’t sure why. Maybe because you still couldn’t get your head around how much time had actually passed. A wife.
“Oh, wow” you blurted out, not even recognizing your voice anymore. You felt even more suffocated. “Do I know her?”
“No, no. I met her after college. She was a friend of Derek’s”
Hearing the mention of one of your old mutual friends made your heart skip a beat. You had never thought you'd hear those names again. These were the kind of moments when reality hits you in the face, when you realize that just because some people aren’t in your life anymore, doesn’t mean they stop existing. Their lives go on, and they experience new things you aren’t part of. You had hoped you knew Peter’s wife, because if you did, maybe you’d feel closer to the whole situation. The fact that you didn’t only proved how distant you truly were from this part of your life.
“That’s great” you breathed out, not knowing what else to say.
“Are you… Married?” You knew Peter was only asking out of politeness, discreetly glancing at the Plan B box in your hands.
“No”
“Dating someone?”
“Nope” you repeated, feeling uncomfortably exposed. Here you were, with your ex boyfriend who had settled down and was happily buying tampons for his wife in the middle of the night, while you were all alone. It was only you, with a morning-after pill.
Silence fell upon the night. A few cars on the side of the highway were the only things you could hear, along with the wind swaying the trees. Your surroundings, and yourself, felt strangely empty.
You didn’t know if you should ask. But you wanted to, so badly. So after a while you decided to just do it, asking the question that had been running through your mind this entire time.
“Why aren’t you Spider-Man anymore?”
The night insisted on being silent. Sometimes silence was relative, it seemed to only appear when there was something meant to be said, contrary to what one might think. It’s as though silence is merely a temporary link in a chain. Is stillness even attainable? Even when nothing is being said, and nothing seems to be happening, everything is happening. Or at least waiting to happen. Peter’s gaze was firmly fixed on yours, and you didn’t look away either.
Peter had become Spider-Man while you were in high school, after being bit by a genetically altered spider. He had kept the lifestyle throughout all the time you were together. Even after you broke up, you still saw him in every newspaper in town, heard from him in every citizen’s mouth. That had made everything a bit more difficult at the time.
But for a while now, though you weren’t sure how much time had actually passed, he had disappeared completely, leaving many people to wonder what had happened to the great city hero, Spider-Man. Was he dead? Was he hurt? Was he kidnapped? Would he ever come back? Were some of the common questions. You had always hoped he was alright. And now that he was here, and he looked clearly healthy, with all his arms and legs still in place, you couldn’t help wondering what the real reason was for his retirement.
“I stopped shortly after Debby- my wife, got pregnant”
There it was again. The dropping of the stomach. The piercing silence.
“I didn’t want to put them in danger. I didn’t want my kid to grow up without a father, like I had”
The words flew by, being swept away by the wind, carried away to somewhere you couldn’t reach. You caught bits and pieces of what Peter had said, but the sentences as a whole went over your head. Peter Parker had a kid. Peter Parker was a father.
“You’ve got a kid?”
“Theo. He’s incredible. He turned two a few weeks ago”
You were frozen in place, your feet basically rooted to the ground. A kid. A two year-old kid. You couldn’t believe it. You thought back fondly to all the times Peter talked about wanting to have children. You were sure he was a great father.
“That’s- That’s great, Peter, I’m happy for you”
No matter how astounded you were by how Peter’s life had turned out, you couldn’t stop thinking about how he had given up his other world.
“What did your wife think about you not being Spider-Man anymore?”
Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away, shuffling his feet. You waited for the response, but when it never came, realization washed over you, your eyes widening.
“You never told her?” You asked in disbelief. He merely stared at you, biting his lip, traces of guilt shining in his eyes.
You averted your gaze, your grip on the box suddenly tighter. You didn’t entirely agree with Peter. Sure, you agreed with the part of protecting his family, considering all he had been through. But you remembered something his Uncle Ben had told him, back in the day.
“Don’t you think you have some type of responsibility?”
“My only responsibility is protecting my family” he stated gravely, clenching his jaw, and you gulped.
‘ If you could do good things for other people you have a moral obligation to do those things. That’s what’s at stake here. Not choice, responsibility. ’ The voice of a younger Peter echoed through your head, repeating the words his uncle had said to him. It seems he had changed, after all.
“You never told anyone, right?” He asked, his voice softer and lower, even though there was nobody near you, nobody at all. It was a reflex, you assumed, recalling all your whispered conversations in crowded halls. “Like, ‘I used to date Spider-Man’” he joked.
“No, never” you crossed your arms, trying to get some warmth to your exposed body. That, and also as a way of protecting yourself from the vulnerability the night brought on you.
It was true. You had never told a soul. Never had even thought about it. You’d never do that to him.
“Thanks” Peter muttered.
But he didn’t have to thank you.
“You’ve still got the suit?” You asked playfully, secretly relishing in the conversation about old times.
“Of course I’ve kept the suit” he replied just as playful, making the both of you laugh.
For an ephemeral second, everything felt like old times.
“Wait” you shook your head, suddenly catching on to something. “Who knows you are- were, Spider-Man?”
Peter’s shoulders fell, looking away once again. You took a step back. No way.
“Just you”
You couldn’t believe his words. After all this time, the only people who knew about Spider-Man’s true identity, were only you and him? It felt so strange. You had assumed he would have told plenty of people by now. All this time you had spent far away from each other, there had been a secret tying you together, all along?
This was too much. You were feeling a lot of things you couldn’t quite explain. And that meant one thing: it was time to go.
“It was nice seeing you, Peter” you cleared your throat, preparing to leave. You had to get out of there. “I better get going now”
“Of course” he moved unsteadily from one side to the other, as if he didn’t know where to go. “Take care. I really liked seeing you. We should stay in touch”
“Sure” you smiled weakly, the promise hanging in the air with the same deception you gave the men you go out with. But it was for the best. This was how things were meant to be.
You took the way home, and Peter went the other way.
When you finally got to your apartment, you weakly threw your things on the table, and stood there, gripping the counter. You had a hard time catching your breath and trying to steady your heartbeat.
For many years, you had truly believed you would end up with Peter. Get married, form a family, grow old together, the whole package. It did seem like it would turn out like that for a while. You used to be inseparable, following each other everywhere, managing to make it work even though you had gone to different colleges. You made plans and promises about the future, paying no attention to the people who claimed it was a doomed young love. You thought that that was it for you, Peter was the one, your true love, your soulmate, your happy ending, your one and only, all those sappy, corny terms. Until eventually, you broke up. Not because of a big, grave reason, just because life wanted it that way. You were going on different paths, and you both decided it would be best to end it. It broke your heart at the time, leaving behind all the dreams, all the wishes.
But now he was there, with a family of his own. He had grown up, had gotten it together. You couldn’t help thinking about your own life: casual one night stands, never settling down, a house, but not a home. Was that the life you wanted? Was the way that you were living making you content? Had you chosen the correct path? Peter had managed to continue doing all the things he had always loved: chemistry, photography. He had even formed a family. You hadn’t. You didn’t do anything you used to like. It seemed that you weren’t meant to do all the things you had initially thought you were destined for. For instance, you had always loved writing. Some people’s hearts sing, others dance, others paint, but yours wrote. It had always been that way, yet, it was another thing you had left behind, another thing you had given up on. You liked your job. It was alright. And that was good enough, wasn’t it? What more could you ask for?
With all those emotions overflowing, you rummaged through your drawers until you found a large, dusty box. There was an evanescent date written on the lid. You opened it. And just like that, you were holding your entire past in your hands. Some photographs were a bit faded, and papers and letters were tinted yellow, but it was your past, and you held it with tenderness and yearning. Pictures with Peter, old writings, receipts from when things were far cheaper, college essays, all plopped onto your bed, branching out in front of you. You even found some old research about Oscorp and its employers, from when you used to help Peter with his Spider-Man adventures.
You were crying now, how couldn’t you? Lying on your bed, in between all the memorabilia and past memories. The weight of the years was pressing down on your chest, not allowing you to breathe properly. It wasn’t that you missed Peter, or that you had any regrets. Running into Peter showed you the life you could be living, the road not taken. You found yourself reconsidering all the choices that had gotten you to this point. No matter how hard you were trying to fool yourself, at the end of the day, you had to admit it. This wasn’t life. You weren’t living. You weren’t happy. How much more time could you afford to lose, how much more life?
You wondered how Peter remembered you, what he thought about you now. If whatever image he had of you had been tarnished by seeing the situation you found yourself in. Single, having a shallow job -which you knew was what he thought-, not writing anymore. The whole time you and Peter had been together, he had always thought the world of you. In his eyes, you shined brighter than the sun, and inspired more beauty than the moon. He had even kept such opinion of you after you two broke up. When you had loved someone that much, you remember them with the same tenderness. But what did he think about you now? Was he disappointed? Was he, unlike you, very satisfied and content with the path he had chosen? Did he ever look back?
Morning arrived before you could even notice. Time always flew by while you were left behind.