Chapter Text
“Are you okay?”
“Hm?” MJ asks, looking over to Adel who was washing dishes. He has a nice apartment and a nice job, a nice boy as her mom would say and while Adel hasn’t changed much in 24 hours, she has.
“Lost you for a second,” Adel says with a smile— nice and warm and good in a way that make her insides twist at what she came over to do today— as she smiles back.
“Found my way back.”
“You always do,” he says lightly, running water over the plate in his hand as she watches him intently.
I’m withholding, is what she had told Spider-Man— told Peter Parker— at Frank’s place and while it was true, it doesn’t feel fully fair to Adel.
He was smart and kind and funny and great with his hands but he was also… inquisitive in a way that bothered her and investigative about what she did and who she did it with. Controlling is how Gayle described it but but even that didn’t feel right, not when she’s met his family and sees how much they talk over and around and with each other.
It was connective and interesting and when they first started dating, charming for how much he was interested in pulling down her walls and getting to know the real MJ.
The realization that even she isn’t fully sure of who that is certainly doesn’t help the state of their relationship.
“When’s your next interview? Roxxon, right?” He asks, snapping her back into reality as she absentmindedly plays with her necklace.
“Tomorrow,” she says, though she already knows she isn’t gonna take the job. She probably shouldn’t waste the interviewers time— or her own— but it gave her something more to do than sit and obsess over a version of herself that didn’t exist anymore and what that means for who she is now.
Everyone changes after high school— it’s a given, if not outright expected to adapt and evolve and maybe become someone else entirely. What fucks with her now, especially with Ned and his magical memory shit is how much she hadn’t even realized she was missing.
Because she’s not— missing anything, no matter how much she stares at the ceiling at night or fiddles with her necklace or browses job after job application, wondering why she too hasn’t had any sudden revelation.
Ned’s told her a little bit, about their lives back then— especially their senior year— but try as she might, nothing that he shares brings anything else to mind beyond what her own memories can give her. She remembers the frenzy of Spider-Man being accused of murdering Mysterio, the assumption that somehow she and Ned were involved because they’d been there in London, the back and forth of a missed MIT admission and then… college.
If she’s honest with herself, high school feels like a lifetime ago— even without the knowledge that she’s somehow missing some whole layer of herself that she hadn’t even realized was gone.
Maybe she’s withholding on a good day but how else can she be expected to explain something like this to anyone when she’s still doing her fucking best to try and understand it for herself?
“MJ?”
“I’m fine,” she says, answering the follow up question he hasn’t asked yet because she knows him, “I’m just tired.”
“Did you get any sleep last night? What about that melatonin I got you, is it working?”
MJ presses her lips together, breathing in and out as she fiddles yet again with the end of her shirt– mostly to stop herself from reaching for her necklace.
“Yeah,” she says, staring at Adel’s couch and wondering if he can tell that she’s lying to him.
“Works great.”
Ned is doing a damn good job, all things considered, to keep it together.
The subway ride to Peter’s apartment was short, just as the walk to his building was but the thirty second elevator ride up felt like a lifetime.
How long have you lived here? How did you find this place? How do you pay rent? Do you have a job? What kind of job can Spider-Man have? Does anyone else know you’re Spider-Man? How have you been doing this by yourself?
Why didn’t you come find me?
He has a dozen questions that all feel too big and too loud for the quiet creaking of the elevator so instead, Ned chooses to say nothing at all– uncharacteristically enough that even Peter looks at him out of the corner of his eye.
“You live alone?” is what Ned finally settles on, though that seems to take Peter by surprises as he smirks– nodding as the elevator finally dings and slides open.
“Um, yeah,” he says like it’s obvious– like anything was obvious to Ned now considering how much he knows and doesn't know about Peter Parker anymore– continuing with, “can’t exactly trust a roommate to keep a secret.”
“Rent’s expensive,” Ned says absentmindedly as he follows Peter down an objectively creepy hallway, eyes widening as he takes in the dust, the dirt, and what clearly looks like black mold at the corner of the ceiling. “Dude, is it like, safe to be up here?”
Peter glances up, then shrugs as he fishes his keys out of his pocket– twisting it around into the lock and opening the door. Ned notices the cobwebs around the hinges and a sticky note that Peter grabs before he has the chance to read what it says– turning around and opening the door for him as Ned steps in.
“Are shoes… holy shit,” he begins then stops, looking around the apartment.
It’s huge, bigger than he and MJ’s apartment maybe and filled to the brim with shit– boxes and grocery store shelves, an actually impressive computer set up in the center. There’s a treadmill off to the side which looks decidedly upgraded, something that looks like a 3-D printer set up right by the computer contrasted with shitty looking couches and an unmade bed off to the side.
It looks, to be honest, like his friend Eddie’s boyfriend's apartment back in Boston– more grime and a distinct lack of anything personal but for all intents and purposes it looks… normal.
“Sorry, it’s a mess, I didn’t expect company,” Peter says, closing and locking the door behind him as he goes to pick up some clothes on the floor. Ned doesn’t say anything, openly gawking at his surroundings as he tries to take in what he’s currently seeing versus what his memories– new old memories– are telling him.
The Parker apartments he’s been in and out of throughout his lifetime were never grand or special but they were always… warm. Light and colorful and with a mismatch of furniture that never should’ve worked together and yet somehow, had. His mom had always praised May’s flair for eccentricity and he can remember now, bright Sunday afternoons with the two of them at flea markets around the city– he and Peter trailing behind before they snuck off to play some video game or find a corner to talk about the last movie they’d seen.
Another good memory that conflicts so much with this– an apartment that’s dark and drab and so very different than what he always seemed to associate with Peter Parker.
“You hungry or thirsty? I got water and–” Ned hears the fridge door open, “... and water. Actually. Sorry, I haven’t been shopping yet this week.”
Do you ever? Ned wants to ask but doesn’t, eyes now tracking to the computer set up in the center of the room– walking over to it.
“Dude, where’d you get this?” He asks, impressed actually at the set up for how sleek it is. He can see Peter in it, the way things are strung together and some bits of code running that feels familiar. It makes him feel a little more at ease for reasons he doesn’t really want to dwell on as Peter comes up beside him.
“Trash cans, mostly,” he says, Ned looking over to him as Peter motions to the monitors, then keyboard. “Hardware store, moving sale, got that actually from helping an accountant from being eaten by a big worm thing.”
“Spider-Man takes donations?” Ned asks, Peter smiling as he shrugs.
“Won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you know,” he says, trailing off as Ned’s turns back to the computer, to the 3-D printer and then to the rest of the apartment.
“I don’t steal anything.”
Ned frowns, turning back around to see a conflicted expression on Peter’s face.
“I didn’t say you did.”
“I know, but I um, just wanted to be clear.”
“Why?” Ned asks, Peter looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t know, I…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before bringing his hand down. “I don’t want you to think…”
“Why would I think you stole something?” Ned asks, more direct this time as Peter flounders.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry. I just–”
“What? Assumed I’d think the worst of you now?” He asks, only to be a little taken aback by the way Peter grimaces.
Aback, and also a little offended– though Ned tries not to be as he finally asks, “so how’d you afford it? This,” he motions towards where they are.
“Odd jobs, mostly. Delivery driver. Photography, for a little bit–”
“But like, how?” Ned asks, digging into something that’s been bugging him for the past week. “You’re– I mean everything about you was erased, right?”
Peter blinks a few times before it clicks, making a noise in the back of his throat as he nods. “Yeah, um, had to get a little creative, at first. Cash jobs, bussing tables but you know,” he nods towards the computer set up. “Not that hard to find or make a fake you know.”
“Right,” Ned replies because he does– not necessarily being the ID guy in school but definitely the one who got closer than anyone else to hacking a few fortune 500 companies for fun back at school.
He remembers now, hacking the Stark suit in a shitty hotel in D.C., remembers being stupid and young and staring at the much younger, less tired looking version of the Peter Parker staring at him now and wondering if he was making a bad decision.
It’s frustrating, Ned thinks, to be so mad and so hurt and so fucking sad that he’s missed on so much and more, that Peter’s missed out on him. Ned was a dweeby nerd in high school and while he’s definitely still a little dweeby and a big fucking nerd– he’s cool now, in a way that the high school version of him wouldn’t have believed. He wears what he wants. He dates people he wants. He’s traveled, a little even– going on spring break trips with friends and with MJ and having a whole fucking life and friends in cities around the country now, his life and his world so much bigger than he’d ever thought possible.
Until now at least, with memories of aliens and holographic water monsters and men flying around with fucking wings dropping buildings on his best friend– a whole world stripped away from him that makes his college memories feel almost quaint.
“You okay?” Peter asks, Ned realizing that he’d been staring a beat too long as he clears his throat.
“Yeah, can I have some water, actually?” He asks, Peter offering a small smile as he nods.
“Sure,” he says, Ned watching him walk to his tiny kitchen and wondering just how much had been taken from him– how much he knows about Peter then and could guess about the Peter now– in the years since.
He knows him– knew him– better than anyone ever did. Better than MJ, maybe though he’d never say that aloud to her now, with what she’s dealing with. Maybe even better than May– memories swirling around of late nights and earlier mornings, of whispers in the back of classrooms and buses and rooftops.
“Did you ever think about it?” Ned asks, Peter pausing and turning over to look at him.
"About what?"
"Telling us," Ned says.
Telling me, he thinks.
Peter stops, staring at him.
The look on Peter's face tells him everything.
Ned kind of hates– despite everything– that he knows that too.