Chapter Text
Peter Parker had learned that silence could be louder than anything else.
Not the comfortable kind.
Not the quiet of a city morning before everyone woke up, or the peaceful hum of an apartment where someone you loved was making coffee in the kitchen.
This was different.
This was the kind of silence that sat beside him.
The kind that reminded him every second that nobody was going to call his name.
Not the name that mattered.
Not that Peter Parker.
~
The first thing Peter noticed every morning was the ceiling.
It was always the ceiling.
Because for a while, waking up was the hardest part.
Forgetting was supposed to be a good thing.
That was what Doctor Strange had said.
A sacrifice.
Everyone would forget.
Everyone would be safe.
The world would keep moving.
And it did.
The world moved.
Peter just had to figure out how to move with it.
~
His apartment was small.
Not tiny.
Not terrible.
Just...
Empty.
There were no pictures.
No old school memories.
No May calling him from the kitchen telling him he was going to be late again.
No one.
Just Peter.
And that was supposed to be enough.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face.
His hair was sticking up in every direction.
Which was impressive, considering it was already messy before he went to sleep.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
A tiny spider crawled across the wall beside his bed.
Peter watched it stop.
Tilt its head.
Then continue walking.
He smiled slightly.
“Yeah, okay. You too.”
It was ridiculous.
Talking to a spider.
But honestly?
After everything that had happened, this barely made the list of weird things.
Peter had fought aliens.
He had met wizards.
He had fallen through magical portals.
He had died.
Well.
Almost.
The point was, a spider roommate wasn't even close to the strangest thing anymore.
~
He got dressed.
A hoodie.
Jeans.
A jacket because New York apparently believed weather should be a personal attack.
Then he grabbed his bag and checked it.
Phone.
Notebook.
Wallet.
A few spare web cartridges he definitely didn't need but couldn't bring himself to throw away.
Habit.
A lot of things were habit.
Being Spider-Man was a habit.
Looking over his shoulder was a habit.
Expecting someone to remember him was a habit.
That last one hurt the most.
The coffee shop was warm.
That was the first thing Peter loved about it.
Warm.
Not just the temperature.
The feeling.
The little bell above the door.
The smell of coffee beans.
The quiet conversations from people who came in every morning.
The old man who always ordered tea but complained that he hated tea.
The college student who studied in the corner for six hours and always forgot her charger.
The little kid who pressed his face against the pastry display every Saturday.
Normal things.
Peter needed normal things.
“Parker!”
Peter looked up.
His boss waved a hand.
“You're five minutes early.”
Peter blinked.
“Is that a compliment?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“It means you are suspicious.”
Peter laughed.
It was small.
But real.
That was another thing he was learning.
How to laugh again.
“You're getting better at that,” his boss said.
“At what?”
“Being here.”
Peter paused.
Because he understood what they meant.
He was still quiet.
Still awkward.
Still accidentally apologized when customers bumped into him.
But he was here.
He showed up.
He made coffee.
He lived.
“Yeah,” Peter said softly.
“I think I am.”
~
Harley Keener first came in on a rainy Tuesday.
Peter remembered because the guy walked in looking like he had personally declared war on the weather.
Dark jacket.
Messy hair.
A look on his face that said he was either exhausted or judging everyone in the room.
Probably both.
Peter recognized that look.
He wore it sometimes.
“Coffee,” Harley said.
Peter looked up.
“Wow. Good morning to you too.”
Harley looked mildly surprised.
Then amused.
“Do you always talk to customers like that?”
“Only the rude ones.”
“I said one word.”
“Exactly.”
A pause.
Then Harley smiled.
Barely.
But Peter saw it.
Peter noticed things.
He always had.
“Okay,” Harley said. “You got me.”
Peter turned toward the machine.
“What can I get you?”
“Black coffee.”
Peter stopped.
“No.”
Harley raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
“You look like someone who drinks black coffee because you think suffering builds character.”
For a second, Harley just stared.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
Peter immediately forgot how coffee machines worked.
Which was unfortunate because he was currently operating one.
“You're weird,” Harley said.
Peter smiled.
“I get that a lot.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
~
Harley Keener became a regular.
Peter told himself he didn't notice.
He was lying.
He noticed everything.
Harley came in at the same time almost every day.
He always sat near the window.
He always brought some kind of mechanical project.
He always pretended he wasn't listening when Peter talked.
He always was.
And Peter started doing little things.
Remembering his order.
Saving the last chocolate muffin.
Leaving extra napkins because Harley always spilled something when he was working.
Not that Peter was watching.
He just…
Noticed.
~
“You made it wrong,” Harley said one morning.
Peter looked up.
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Harley.”
“Peter.”
“You say that every time.”
“And eventually I'll be right.”
Peter crossed his arms.
“You come here every day.”
“Yes.”
“You drink the exact same thing every day.”
“Yes.”
“So if I was wrong, why would you keep coming back?”
Harley opened his mouth.
Stopped.
Peter smiled.
Because he had won.
A tiny victory.
A coffee shop victory.
Still a victory.
“You're annoying,” Harley muttered.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“You keep saying that, but you keep smiling.”
Harley looked away.
Peter tried not to smile too.
He failed.
~
The thing about Harley Keener was that Peter felt like he had known him longer than he actually had.
There was something familiar there.
Not memory.
Not exactly.
Just…
Understanding.
Harley knew what it was like to lose someone important.
Peter could tell.
He didn't ask.
Peter knew what it was like when people asked questions you weren't ready to answer.
So instead, they sat in comfortable silence.
Two people who were both terrible at talking about feelings.
Two people who cared too much and admitted too little.
Two people who had lost someone who mattered.
~
Peter didn't know when he started looking forward to Harley walking through the door.
He didn't know when Harley stopped being just a customer.
He didn't know when his chest started doing that weird thing whenever Harley smiled.
Peter had fought supervillains.
He had saved New York.
He had held the universe together.
But somehow…
a boy with a sarcastic attitude and a love for engineering was the thing that scared him most.
Because Peter Parker knew how to save people.
He didn't know how to let someone choose him.
And Harley Keener?
Harley was starting to choose him.
Every single day.
Even if neither of them were brave enough to say it yet.