Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter Parker is at a loss.

He tried to be okay. He tried to move on. He tried to get his high school degree and maintain some semblance of a normal life.

But his new apartment is small and drafty. It’s old and smells faintly of mildew. The neighbors upstairs are loud at all hours of the night, making sleep nearly impossible.

And Peter has been barely making ends meet. His minimum wage job at a grocery store nearby covers the monthly rent but hardly anything else. He’s been living on cheap microwaveable noodles and oatmeal for three months now.

His only friend is an elderly woman who lives down the hall and sometimes brings him homemade cookies.

Peter Parker is indescribably lonely.

He plops down on the thrifted couch he’d found a couple months prior—the only real piece of furniture he has aside from the lumpy mattress that came with the apartment—and attempts to finish some work for an online class that he’s taking.

If he can pass all his classes by the end of the current school year, he’ll be able to get his GED. After that, he’s hoping to go on to community college.

MIT feels like a dream now to Peter. A path no longer available to this new version of himself. A version without any friends or family to support him…

Peter blinks unwanted tears out of his eyes and forces his thoughts back to the task at hand. No one cares if he’s sad. No one cares if he’s lonely.

No one even knows who Peter is.

The boy—though he isn’t really a boy anymore—eventually finishes his class-work for the night and turns off his laptop. It’s one of the few possessions he was able to salvage from Aunt May’s apartment.

His aunt who’s been dead and gone for over three months. His aunt who basically raised him. His aunt who he never got to say a proper goodbye to.

Another fresh wave of tears threaten to choke Peter, but he again forces them away as he gets up from the couch and grabs a glass of water from the tiny kitchenette his apartment has to offer. He’d prefer something much stronger but knows that with his enhanced metabolism a drink wouldn’t do much good anyways.

He gulps the tap water down and then nearly jumps out of his own skin when his phone loudly rings in his back pocket.

It shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow it does. His “spidey-senses” haven’t been working properly ever since… Well, ever since everyone who cared about him forgot his entire existence.

Peter checks his phone and sees that a crime has been reported a few blocks away. A theft of some kind. He debates whether to let the police deal with it or handle it himself.

It’s late, almost midnight. He could use some rest before his shift at the grocery store starts tomorrow morning.

Peter sighs aloud and decides to sit this one out. The cops can manage it on their own, he assures himself.

He readies himself for bed in the microscopic adjoining bathroom—if it can even be called that—and then flops onto the uncomfortable mattress that takes up most of his tiny apartment. He pulls thrifted gray-colored sheets up to his chin and still ends up shivering.

Peter stares at the water-stained ceiling above him and wonders if things will ever get easier. If this constant ache in his chest will ever recede. If he’ll ever be okay again.

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep. The neighbors on the floor above him are quiet tonight, thankfully. The only noise he hears is that of cars on the street below and the crappy little heater that’s doing a hell of a poor job of actually keeping his apartment warm.

Peter tries to sleep, but his thoughts keep going back to the faces of those who used to know him.

He had a chance to say something to MJ. At the bakery, three months ago, he could’ve said something. Ned was there too. He could’ve said something to Ned.

But he didn’t.

He was trying to do the right thing. Trying to move on and let his friends move on as well. What they didn’t know—what they didn’t remember—wouldn’t hurt them.

It would only hurt him. And Peter thought, at the time, he could handle that hurt.

But now he’s alone. So very alone. And he’s lost two of the only people he had left.

Peter desperately tries to sleep but just can’t. He’s exhausted from his job and his online classes—he has dark circles under his eyes to prove as much—but his thoughts just keep spiraling.

Eventually sleep must come, because the next thing he knows, sunlight is shining through the dirtied and partially cracked window on the opposite wall from his bed.

Peter pries his eyes open and groans. He doesn’t feel like getting up.

He snatches his phone off his nightstand—also thrifted—and sees that he’s overslept by a solid hour. Shit. Now he’ll be late for work.

He takes a quick shower in icy water and throws on his work uniform. He doesn’t have time for breakfast but it doesn’t really matter because he hardly has any food left in his apartment anyways.

The air outside is crisp and a strong wind bites at Peter’s face as he walks to the subway station nearest his apartment building. He’ll have to take a different train today than usual if he wants to get to work before he’s marked late. Usually he takes one with a longer route to his destination because it’s generally less crowded, but today he just doesn’t have that luxury.

As a result, the train car he shoves himself into is packed and he has to stand near the door. The ride is only about ten minutes, but in that time he struggles to stay upright without jostling the passengers around him. He briefly wishes he had his suit on so he could web himself to the floor, if only to stay in place.

The subway car jolts to such an abrupt stop that Peter nearly topples an elderly man over. He profusely apologizes as the man glares at him and shakes his cane angrily before exiting the car.

Peter manages to escape the crowded subway station and continue on to the grocery store. He’s standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green, when he sees her.

Across the street, walking out of a convenience store. Right. It’s Saturday, so she wouldn’t be at high school, finishing her senior year with Peter’s former best friend.

Peter gulps as the light changes to red, signaling that it’s safe for him to cross the street. He walks briskly and avoids making eye-contact with MJ. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like she’s noticed him yet.

Peter’s in such a hurry to get to work and not illicit some kind of painful small-talk with MJ that he ends up almost plowing her over. He collides with her shoulder and knocks a bag out of her hand.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, mostly out of habit. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Here, let me get that for you.”

He bends down to grab the plastic bag MJ had dropped. Inside, from what he can tell, it looks like she’s bought some snacks, as well as a couple packs of pens and highlighters and a thick notebook.

“Study day with my friend,” MJ says by way of explanation, though she owes him none. “Midterms are upon us,” she says with a nervous sort of laugh.

Peter hands the bag back to her and straightens his posture. “Right,” he says. “I’m, uh, doing school online, so…” He trails off and finds himself starting to sweat profusely.

MJ nods, thoughtful. “Hey, you’re the guy who stopped by the bakery a few months ago, right?”

Peter nods, surprised that she would remember him. “Uh, yeah. Yep. That was me.”

“I was… I was gonna ask for your number, but I kinda chickened out,” MJ admits, looking a little bashful.

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?!” He realizes how pathetic he must sound and adjusts his tone. “I mean, uh, is that so?”

MJ giggles—actually giggles. “This is gonna sound weird, I know, but you kinda remind me of… someone.”

Peter’s expression falls and he feels a pit open up in his stomach. “Oh?” he says, his throat already threatening to close up and choke him.

“Yeah,” MJ says. “A friend I used to have. You remind me of him.”

“How so?” Peter manages, forcing away a bout of hopeful tears.

MJ shrugs, “Dunno, really. I just… I just got this feeling when I saw you at the bakery. You seemed so… familiar. I thought to myself, well, he must remind you of one of your friends.”

“Right.”

“But I don’t have any friends like you,” MJ says, tilting her head just slightly. “So… maybe you remind me of a childhood friend or something.”

“Maybe,” Peter agrees, forcing a tight smile.

“You just look so familiar,” MJ insists. “Must just have one of those faces.”

“Yeah,” Peter nearly whispers. He clears his throat and speaks more clearly, “Well, anyway. I gotta get to work. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

MJ nods. “Oh, what about your number? I mean, if it isn’t a weird thing to ask. I know we’re strangers and all, but I’d like to maybe get to know you. If you…. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Uh, no. I mean, sure. Yeah. Um, here.”

Peter pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and hands it to the girl. She hands him hers. They exchange numbers and then swap back to their original devices.

“Bye, Peter,” MJ says as Peter starts to walk away.

“Bye, MJ!” Peter calls back without thinking.

He realizes his mistake a few seconds too late. Shit. He shouldn’t know her name yet. Oh well, maybe he can play it off if she asks, say that he saw her name along with the number she’d left on his phone’s contact list.

Except.

Except that he’s now checking the new contact she added and sees she’s put her full name down.

Peter turns back around but doesn’t see MJ anywhere. Maybe she didn’t even hear him.

Oh well. He can’t worry about that right now anyways. He has to get to work, unfortunately.

Another day of pretending. Another day of acting like he’s okay when he hasn’t been in a long time.

But maybe now, with MJ’s number in his contact list, he’s at least a little closer to being all right. Even if she doesn’t remember him or what they had together.

Peter decides that it’s better than nothing. That it’s a start.

Chapter Text

Peter waits a week before finally messaging MJ.

At first he’d held off because he wanted to give her time to initiate a conversation. Then he feared she might’ve reconsidered the entire thing and deleted his number. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he would text her and see if she would respond.

After all, she was the one who asked for his number, not the other way around.

ME: Hey, it’s Peter. I’m sure you’ve been busy with your midterms and stuff so I totally understand if you haven’t had time to text me. I just wondered how you’ve been doing. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime or something.

Peter stares at his message for a solid thirty seconds before hitting the send button. He hopes it doesn’t sound too desperate—even though that’s exactly what he is.

Desperate to have MJ back in his life. Desperate to have a life at all, really.

This past week has been hell for him, to put it mildly.

His rent is due and he can hardly afford it. He’s barely got enough money for food. His shitty heater broke down and now his apartment is quickly resembling an icebox.

He’s currently bundled himself in several blankets which the old woman down the hall kindly gave him as an early Christmas present. It’s likely the only gift he’ll receive this year, seeing as how he no longer has anyone close enough in his life to give him a present.

That particular thought is so depressing that Peter has to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent tears from tracking down his face.

He feels stupid for being so emotional, on the one hand. But at the same time he knows he never got to properly grieve May’s death, let alone the proverbial deaths of his friendship with Ned and his relationship with MJ.

Even if they could one day be friends again, Peter highly doubts she’d ever want to date him. She probably only felt the way she did because she knew he was Spider-Man. Even if she had tried to tell him otherwise, Peter still can’t bring himself to believe that MJ would have admitted her feelings for him if he were just a normal person.

Girls like MJ don’t fall for guys like Peter Parker. They just don’t.

The boy’s thoughts go blank when his phone lights up with a new text message.

MJ: Midterms were brutal, but Christmas break is finally upon us, lol. You got any plans for the holidays?

Peter hesitates, unsure of how to respond. He also notes how MJ didn’t say anything about his offer to go get coffee. Surely that’s a bad sign.

ME: Nope, not really. I’ve been working on online classes during my free-time. Are you going anywhere for Christmas?

MJ reads the message and starts responding immediately.

MJ: Nah. My plan for break is to sleep all day, lol. I might hang out with my friend, Ned, too. He’s, like, my only friend at school. God, I’m so happy senior year is almost over.

Peter smiles in a sad sort of way even though MJ can’t see him. He’s glad that MJ and Ned are still friends. They deserve to find some happiness, even if Peter can’t.

ME: I can imagine, haha. I wish I had someone to hang out with. I’ll probably be spending my Christmas alone.

Peter doesn’t really know why he tells MJ this. Maybe in the vain hope that she’ll understand. That she’ll remember… something. Or maybe he just wants someone else to help him hold this weight he’s been carrying around for the past few months.

MJ reads the message, starts typing a response, stops typing, starts typing again, stops again, and finally finishes the message.

MJ: Are you… not close with your family? Or do you have any friends to spend the holidays with, at least?

Peter types back quickly, not fully thinking out his response but feeling like he has to get the words out, even if their only via text message.

ME: I used to live with my aunt, but she… passed away a few months ago. Now I live alone. It’s hard finding friends when your schooling is all online. I’ll probably get stuck working during Christmas anyways, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.

MJ reads his message but doesn’t reply for several minutes. He’s afraid he’s scared her off somehow, but eventually she responds.

MJ: Maybe this is weird, and you certainly don’t have to if you don’t wanna, but if you’re not working during Christmas, maybe you can stop by my place. My dad will be away on a business trip so I’ll have the place to myself for a few days. I was gonna invite Ned over anyhow, so… the more the merrier, right?

Peter stares at his phone screen. Did MJ really just invite him over to her house for Christmas? Was this really happening? Could he be that lucky?

ME: Are you sure? I mean, we barely even know each other.

Which isn’t true, but as far as MJ knows it is. And Peter feels it’s his duty to call it out so he doesn’t look like a creep.

MJ: I suppose that’s true. Should I be worried? You’re not some crazed axe-wielding murderer, are you?

MJ: That was a joke, by the way. I’m joking.

MJ: Unless you are, in which case I am not joking and I’m calling the cops on you.

Peter smiles despite himself and texts MJ back.

ME: I am many things, but an axe-wielding murderer is not one of them.

MJ: How comforting to know. What are you, then?

Peter wishes he could tell her the truth. But, of course, he cannot. For more than one reason. The biggest being simply that she wouldn’t believe him. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. As long as her memories of him are gone, who cares if she knows that he’s Spider-Man.

ME: A cashier at a grocery store. Boring, I know.

It’s not the full truth, but it is at least part of the truth. It’s as good as Peter can do, anyways.

MJ: That is boring. But you still kinda seem like you might be a cool guy. My offer still stands. If you decide to come, let me know and I’ll text you my address.

ME: You’re really not worried about inviting a stranger to your house?

Peter has to ask because, well, duh. He knows that MJ isn’t stupid. She wouldn’t act carelessly or do anything really without careful planning ahead of time and lots of research.

MJ: Maybe this sounds dumb, but you don’t feel like a stranger to me, Peter. I still can’t explain it, but I just feel like… I know you somehow.

MJ: Oh hey, when we bumped into each other last week, you called me ‘MJ’. No one’s ever called me by that nickname. It’s kinda weird, but I think I like it.

ME: Oh, haha. Yeah, I give nicknames to everyone I know. It’s, like, my thing.

It is certainly not Peter’s thing, but he can’t blow his cover now. If he starts acting weird she’ll know something is up. And if that happens, she might shut the conversation down and then he’ll never get to talk to her again. And he can’t let that happen.

MJ: Oh? That’s funny, lol. You’re a funny guy, Peter.

MJ: Ah, shit. I gotta go. My shift at the bakery starts soon. Talk later?

ME: Yeah, sure. It was nice talking to you, MJ. :)

MJ: You too, Peter. :)

Peter shuts his phone off and sighs heavily. He knows he should get back to his class work, but now all he can think about is MJ. He might actually get the chance to see her again, and possibly Ned as well. He allows himself to feel just a sliver of hope, just enough to get him through the rest of the day.

It almost makes him forget about his freezing-cold apartment and currently dire financial situation.

Chapter Text

Christmas approaches faster than Peter would like it to.

Thick snowflakes float down lazily from the sky outside of Peter’s apartment. All appears peaceful now, but last night was practically a blizzard. And Peter would know, having had to trudge out in such weather to deal with an armed robbery a few streets away.

His apartment is still frigid, the small space-heater still broken and unable to be repaired due to the boy’s lack of funds.

He shivers on the couch as he submits an essay for one of his online courses. His fingers feel numb and it’s hard for him to type on the keyboard.

His phone reads nearly five in the evening and he agreed to meet up with MJ at her house around six. Currently it’s Christmas Eve, but she assured him it would be okay if he stayed over for the night.

“I have a spare room you can sleep in,” she’d told him when they spoke on the phone a few days prior. “Ned’s gonna take the living room couch, otherwise I’d offer you that.”

Peter and MJ have been texting and calling throughout the past week. Mostly, it’s all just general small-talk. Inconsequential shit that Peter already knows about MJ but for obvious reasons can’t tell her so. In total, they’ve had a few phone calls and five or six texting convos.

It isn’t as much as Peter would like, but he tries to be grateful for it anyways. It’s more than he thought he’d ever get back, after all.

Even if MJ never learns the truth. Even if her memories never come back. Which, of course, they won’t.

Peter didn’t bother decorating for the holiday. He doesn’t have the extra money to spend on lights or a tree. And, besides that, he hasn’t felt very cheerful or festive in quite some time now.

He wishes he could get gifts for MJ and Ned, though. Sure, Ned has no idea who he is now and his friendship with MJ is still very new (at least from her perspective), but Peter’s still going to be a guest at MJ’s house and feels obligated to bring something for her and Ned.

He sighs, closes his laptop and gets up from the couch. Walking over to his small nightstand, he opens up the single tiny drawer it has to offer and pulls out a plain envelope. It contains all the cash money he has left.

All the checks from his job go straight to paying for rent, so this is it for his eating expenses—as well as fare to ride the subway and any materials he might need to repair damage to his Spider-Suit and for new clothing in general.

He cautiously takes the money out of the envelope and starts counting the thin stack of bills. He gulps and swallows down the urge to sob. It’s enough for food but not much else. As per usual.

He considers taking some money out of his work funds to buy presents for MJ and Ned. He just paid rent for January, so he should be able to earn enough at the grocery store before time comes to pay for February’s rent.

Peter finds himself pushing his way through deep snow drifts as he searches for an ATM to withdraw some money from. He’s wearing his only winter coat—warm enough on the inside but starting to look a bit rough on the outside—and a thick hat and gloves. His spider-bite-given abilities should, in theory, keep him naturally warmer than the average human, but lately those abilities haven’t been working as well as they used to.

He supposes it might be from a lack of nutrition, proper sleep schedule, and the increasing sadness he feels most days. The only time he’s been happy at all in the past week is when he’s texting or on the phone with MJ.

Peter knows how pathetic he is. He’s a superhero, for God’s sake. He doesn’t have the time to mope around and get stuck in reveries about better days. He’s supposed to be helping people.

But how can he help others when he doesn’t even know how to help himself?

Eventually, the boy finds an ATM and withdraws some cash. He doesn’t really know what to buy for MJ and Ned, considering that he’s not supposed to know them as well as he does, so he ends up just getting generic gifts. A woodsy-scented candle for MJ and a twenty-five dollar gift card to a bookstore for Ned. It’s not much, but Peter figures it’s better than nothing.

He has to look up the directions to MJ’s house on his phone. It’s kind of a ways away, so Peter decides to swing there. Since it’s December and the sun sets around five in New York City, Peter uses the cover of darkness to slip between buildings until he reaches MJ’s street.

Her house is fairly easy to find, what with three giant Christmas inflatables dominating the tiny front yard. An oversized Santa and reindeer-pulled sleigh combo reaches several inches onto a short, narrow driveway. Peter gingerly walks up it, careful to miss patches of ice as he steps on an adjoining sidewalk that leads to a small front porch.

He pauses at the front door for a solid five minutes, unable to press his finger against the doorbell. He suddenly feels extremely anxious. Lightheaded, even. It’s like the bakery incident all over again, he thinks to himself in dismay.

Before he can turn around and flee back down the sidewalk and sprint all the way back to his apartment in fear, though, the door swings inward and MJ’s face greets him.

“Oh, good! You’re here! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

MJ smiles and it’s truly dazzling. Peter manages a shaky smile of his own and adjusts the presents under his left arm.

“Am I late?” he squeaks out, voice embarrassingly high.

“Ah, only by a few minutes,” MJ replies, her smile falling a bit. “Are you okay, Peter? You look a little…” she trails off and frowns.

“Just cold,” Peter says, and it’s not really the truth at all but he is cold so it’s not really a lie either.

“Right. Of course. Um, come on in. Ned just got here a few minutes ago, so the gang’s all here.”

Oh, how Peter wishes that were true. To them he’s still just a stranger. Sure, he’s had a handful of conversations with MJ throughout the week, but they’ve been trivial at best. She has no idea who he really is.

She doesn’t know what they used to be.

Peter follows MJ inside and feels immediate relief at the warmth emanating from an actually functioning heater. It’s heaven.

“You can hang up your coat and stuff here,” MJ says, pointing at a coat rack in the entrance hallway. “Did you bring a change of clothing for tomorrow, by the way? I forgot to remind you.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s in my bag,” Peter answers, turning around briefly so she can see the backpack he managed to wrestle on over his coat. “I brought you and Ned a couple gifts,” he adds, adjusting the wrapped box and two cards again to properly show them to her. “It’s not much, but I felt like I should bring something.”

MJ smiles again, the expression lighting up her whole face. “That’s so sweet of you!” she gushes. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“I, uh, I guess I thought it might help repay you for your hospitality. You didn’t have to invite me over,” Peter says, looking down at the floor.

“Hey, that’s what friends do,” MJ replies, giving Peter’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Friends hang out sometimes, right?”

Peter looks back up and sees the girl eyeing him with something like sympathy. “Yeah, I guess,” he responds, not bothering with a smile himself.

MJ’s expression shifts but she doesn’t make any further comments on the topic. Instead, she says something about needing to order a couple pizzas and wanders off to some other part of the house, leaving Peter alone in the entryway.

He gently sets the gift box and cards down the floor and then shrugs off his backpack and winter coat. He doesn’t have many spare changes of clothing, so he brought an oversized sweatshirt, a t-shirt, and a pair of jeans with him. He also brought a pair of pajama pants for tonight and a basic toiletries kit.

He leaves his backpack by his now hung-up coat (and hat and gloves) for the time being and ventures down the hallway to find MJ and Ned.

It doesn’t take long. MJ is in the kitchen, talking on the phone to someone (probably a pizza place) and looking at some menu she must’ve printed out at some point. Ned is sitting at a small, round table in the adjoining dining room, doing something on his laptop while also talking to MJ.

“We got the Hawaiian pizza last time,” Ned complains. “It’s my turn to pick the toppings.”

“I’m gonna get two pizzas anyways,” MJ replies, looking mildly annoyed. “You can get what you want on one and I’ll get what I want on the other.”

“Don’t we have a guest coming over, though? Peter something? I think it’s only fair if you let him pick,” Ned argues.

“Peter just got here,” MJ says just as Peter steps into the kitchen. “Ah, see. There he is! Ned, this is Peter. Peter, this is my friend, Ned.”

Peter gives Ned a sort of awkward wave. “Um, hi,” he says, because he’s an absolute idiot who clearly still lacks any and all social skills.

Ned looks up from his laptop and narrows his eyes a bit, as if assessing Peter’s intentions from afar. “Are you our age? How come I haven’t seen you in school?”

“I’m, uh, taking my classes online,” Peter explains.

“Oh, right. Yeah. You met MJ at her job, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter says. “I saw you there too that day but you looked like you were busy so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Ned nods, considering Peter’s words. After a moment his expression relaxes and he offers up a warm smile. “Well, any friend of MJ’s is a friend of mine! Come on, take a seat. We’re just ordering some pizza and then we’re gonna binge some Christmas movies and play some games.”

“Sounds like fun,” Peter says, and it does. He walks over to the dining room table and peers at Ned’s laptop screen. “What’re you working on? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Ah, no, it’s cool. I’m just working on some code for a video game I’m trying to design. I started, like, so long ago on this but I just…” he trails off and shakes his head. “I dunno. I guess I got distracted by other stuff. The past couple of years have gone by in a blur.”

“Right,” Peter agrees.

“Of course, there was the Blip and all that, but,” he shrugs and then smiles. “Did you get Blipped?”

Peter swallows thickly. He did not think he’d be having this conversation with his former best friend.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oof, it was so weird, right? Gone one second and then just… back the next. Except five years had gone by! It was so crazy!” Ned exclaims. “I think it’s so stupid that we had to go back to our boring, normal lives at high school,” he adds with a pout.

Peter gives a nervous laugh. “Normal is a good thing,” he says, because he can’t help it. “Believe me, I wish the past couple of years for me were normal and boring.”

Ned furrows his eyebrows in confusion and Peter feels his face slowly start to turn red. Shit. He shouldn’t have said that. Damn it. Now Ned will start asking questions he can’t give him answers to and—

“The pizza will be here in, like, fifteen minutes,” MJ says from the kitchen, interrupting Ned and Peter’s conversation. “Wanna start with the movie marathon or the games first?”

The rest of the night goes smoothly, for a while. The pizza arrives and is devoured in seemingly record time. It’s the first time Peter has tasted anything other than cup noodles for dinner in over three months. He is overjoyed at the sight of a greasy pizza slice.

It turns out that MJ also made a batch of chocolate-chip cookies earlier in the day and brought out some snacks to enjoy while binging the movies. Peter tries not to hog down an entire bowl of chips but still ends up eating the majority of them.

He also wolfs down six or seven of the cookies and still hears his stomach rumble for more.

Damn his enhanced metabolism.

After a couple movies, the three decide to play a card game. It’s very fun and Peter finds himself quite enjoying the company of his two friends. Well, former best friend and former girlfriend, technically, but whatever. He’s just trying to enjoy the moment.

Because he knows it won’t last.

And he’s right. It doesn’t.

Except, he didn’t think it would end so soon.

He’s just gone back down the hallway to get his gifts for MJ and Ned, respectively, when he sees a notification on his phone. Some masked fiend has been spotted a few miles away, setting fires to houses at seemingly random.

“Shit,” Peter curses aloud to himself.

He’d like to leave the problem to the police and fire department, but it seems like the criminal is moving far faster than they can keep up with. From the information he’s getting, the cops are a couple houses behind and the fire department doesn’t have enough trucks to cover the current damage done.

“You okay?” MJ asks, startling Peter.

His spidey-senses are still wonky, apparently, since he didn’t hear her approach.

“You’ve been gone for, like, ten minutes. Ned was starting to think you’d ditched us and left,” she jokes.

“Um… I have to go, actually,” Peter admits, again looking down at the floor. “I might be back later but I have to handle a… situation.”

MJ crosses her arms and gives him a concerned look. “Can’t it wait? We were having so much fun.”

“Uh, no, not really. I’m really sorry, but it’s kind of important,” Peter says apologetically, looking back up at the girl.

“Is it… are you… like, okay? Are you in some kind of trouble?” MJ asks, lowering her voice a bit.

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. I just, uh, have to help a friend with something. It’s not a big deal. I should be back soon,” Peter rambles, trying not to make MJ anymore suspicious than she already is.

“But you just said it was a big deal,” MJ points out. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. But just, I wanna make sure I’m not just, like, letting you run off to make some drug deal or join a gang fight or something.”

Peter gives her a look. “Gang fight? Really? Do I look like someone who’d get in a gang fight?”

MJ shrugs, “You never know,” she says defensively.

Peter rolls his eyes despite himself. “I’m not in a gang, MJ. I’m fine. I just gotta handle something real quick. I’ll be back before you know it.”

And Peter hopes that’s true.

“Hmm… okay,” MJ finally relents. “But if you’re not back in two hours I’m going after your ass, Parker.”

Peter raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m serious!“ MJ says. “I can’t lose my new friend so soon!”

Peter smiles as convincingly as he’s able to. “Trust me, I’m tougher than you think. I’ll be back soon.”

Before MJ can say anything else, Peter slips his coat back on and heads out the door. He leaves the presents and his backpack at MJ’s as if to prove to her that he’ll be back soon.

He really hopes he is.

Chapter Text

It takes Peter longer than he would like to catch up with the arsonist. The weather gets progressively worse as well, which means that soon enough he’s fighting just to see a few feet in front of him due to an especially heavy snowfall. It’s made even worse by a fierce wind, causing the snow to blow directly into the boy’s face.

Despite his enhanced spider-abilities, Peter still struggles to navigate through the mounting snow and down icy streets. In addition to this, he just feels so cold. He risks a glance down at his hands when he stops for a moment under a street-lamp, fearful of seeing his fingers frostbitten, but they still look okay.

If he were a normal person, he’d surely have hypothermia by now.

His homemade Spider-Suit isn’t quite as cool as some of the prior versions he’s had, and it’s not nearly as high tech. As a result, he ended up having to pull it on over his regular clothing and ditch his winter jacket. He’d rather wear his normal clothing, since they provide a bit more warmth, but without his suit he can’t shoot webs—which he unfortunately needs to swing between houses.

He feels stupid in his superhero outfit; a blur of red and blue amongst a snowy-white landscape. He knows he’s standing out too much. He knows he should be trying to conceal himself better. He doesn’t want the arsonist to see him ahead of time and flee before Peter can catch up with him.

A full moon lights up the night sky, the stars above not quite visible due to pollution from the city below.

Peter catches up to what he hopes is the latest house fire in time to see the arsonist running from a back door and toward a neighbor’s yard. The boy shoots a web out to a nearby tree and swings himself onto the ground. There’s already about half a foot of snow collected there, so trying to sprint through it is a bit difficult.

“Stop!” Peter yells, trying to make his voice lower than it usually is.

He outstretches both of his arms and uses his webs to wrap the arsonist up. The person flops into the snow with a dulled poof sound and lets out a string of curses, probably angry at having been caught.

“The police will be here soon,” Peter says, eyeing the figure for a moment longer before turning back to the burning house.

Shit, should he go inside and see if anyone’s in there?

Seeing as how the police and firefighters still haven’t shown up yet, Peter decides it’s his duty to make sure that no one is potentially trapped inside the burning building.

He enters through a back door, which is the simplest way to go since it’s a sliding-glass door and it appears that the glass has been blown out by the heat from the fire. His suit is flame resistant to a certain extent, but it has a time limit. Probably ten to fifteen minutes, if Peter were to guess.

Granted, he’s never actually tested this particular suit in a fire. He tells himself that there’s a first time for everything and tries not to psyche himself out as he enters the burning building.

Trying to see the house’s layout through the flames is quite difficult, as one may imagine, but Peter doesn’t see any movement on the first floor. He checks a small basement but finds that empty as well. Finally, he moves up a staircase, which the flames haven’t touched yet but are swiftly approaching. The upstairs area of the house is pretty small, just an open loft and a tiny closet. The space is also empty.

Letting out a brief sigh of relief, Peter turns around to head back down the staircase. Just as he puts a foot down on the first step, a wooden beam crashes into the staircase. His path down is effectively blocked, so Peter shoots a web out toward a so-far un-scorched patch of wall and tries to swing downwards from that.

Somehow he ends up misjudging his distance and slams right into a fiery piece of furniture. Thankfully he’s still wearing his mask, so he doesn’t have to worry about getting severe burns on his face.

Peter shakes himself off a bit and heads to the front door. This ends up being a mistake, because it’s on fire and it seems to be half-melted into the wall next to it. The boy whips back around to the back door, realizing he should’ve gone that way first.

He glances down at his suit and is alarmed to see that a few patches of it have started to burn. Not wanting to waste anymore time in the burning house, Peter sprints toward the backyard. Just as he reaches the destroyed sliding-glass door, another wooden beam falls and slams into him.

Peter is knocked off his feet and falls onto a small pile of glass. His suit mostly protects him, but he can feel that parts of it are wearing away under the heat of the flames. He groans and tries to push the beam off of himself, but suddenly his hands are burning. He curses aloud and shakes tendrils of fire off of his gloves.

The burning beam is digging into his abdomen, making it impossible for him to crawl out from under it. His suit feels progressively hotter and he worries about the material burning through.

The air is thick with smoke and Peter struggles to breathe. He looks around to try and find something to grab the beam with—like a kitchen towel or blanket—but everything around him is already on fire.

For the first time in maybe his whole life, Peter fears that he might actually get burned alive. The primal fear of dying is enough for him to press his hands against the fiery beam once more and attempt to shove it away. He knows he’ll have burns on his hands when he gets out of here, but hopefully they’ll heal quickly.

In any case, the pain he’s sure to feel after his current spike of adrenaline wears off will be infinitely better than dying in here.

Once the beam is finally gone, Peter is quick to get back up on his feet and hurry outside. He decidedly keeps his eyes away from his hands and instead looks to the police cars arriving in the back yard. He tries to shoot a web out to a tree in a neighbor’s yard, but his suit sleeves have been so damaged that the webbing mechanism won’t work.

“Damn it,” the boy swears.

He hops a fence instead. After sprinting through several backyards he ends up on an unfamiliar street. It’s still snowing like crazy and the cold is starting to cut through his damaged suit.

Finally, Peter catches a glimpse of his hands in the moonlight. The backs of them look all right, but his palms are a bloodied, burned mess. He also notices burned splotches on both of his arms. They don’t look quite as bad as his hands, but it’s hard to tell with the suit still sticking to his skin.

Peter realizes that he has no idea how to get back to MJ’s house. He doesn’t even know where he is. The houses around him look dilapidated and abandoned. The street is dark and devoid of any house or yard lights.

Peter reaches up a bloody hand and pulls off his mask. The snow makes it nearly impossible to see down the street and the boy decides he might as well wait the storm out in one of the abandoned houses. He isn’t too concerned about his injured hands, what with his increased healing abilities, but hypothermia could become a problem if he stays out in this weather with his damaged suit.

Inside one of the empty houses, Peter carefully extricates himself from his suit and stands in a freezing cold dilapidated room in a t-shirt and jeans. As he suspected, he has bloody splotches on both of his arms. They don’t look too bad, though, thankfully.

He remembers suddenly that he shoved his phone in his back pocket before he left MJ’s and pulls it out to check the time.

Shit. It’s nearly three in the morning. He’s been gone for over four hours now.

He also has several texts and missed calls from MJ.

MJ: Is everything okay?

MJ: Ned and I started to get a little worried, haha.

MJ: I’m gonna go after your ass if you’re not back here in the next half hour.

MJ: Peter, I swear I’m gonna track you down if you aren’t back here in the next ten minutes.

MJ: C’mon, man. Where are you?

MJ: Fine, Ned and I are coming to get you.

MJ: Seriously, where are you?

Plus a handful of missed calls. The last one of which was placed only about fifteen minutes ago.

Peter lets out a shaky breath and reluctantly calls his friend back.

“I’m okay,” he says when MJ picks up on the second ring. “I just got a little… lost.”

“Peter?! What the hell? Where are you? Ned and I have been looking all over for you for the past two hours! He wanted to go back to my house but I knew you needed our help. What happened? Was a gang thing? I promise I won’t judge you if it was,” MJ says all in one giant breath.

“I’m not in a gang,” Peter says, huffing out a hysterical sort of laugh. “And I’m currently standing in the middle of an abandoned house somewhere.”

There’s a pause on MJ’s end of the line for a moment, some shuffling and background noise. It sounds like she might be saying something to Ned.

“Do you think you can use Google Maps to find your way back to my house? Or is it too far away? I know the weather is pretty bad where we are right now,” MJ eventually responds.

“It’s bad here too,” Peter says. “I don’t think I can use my phone for directions ‘cause it’s almost out of power,” he adds, frowning a bit to himself.

“Oh. Okay, um, well Ned can maybe try and track your phone and we’ll come to you, then,” MJ says. “Just… just hold on for a minute, okay?”

Peter obliges and waits for a little over a minute.

“All right,” MJ continues. “It looks like you’re a few blocks away from us. We’re driving, but the roads are getting pretty bad so it’s slow progress. We should be there soon, though. Just stay where you are, okay?”

“I didn’t plan on leaving,” Peter replies.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll be there soon,” MJ repeats. “And when we get there you’re going to explain what happened, got it?”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, so the boy just responds with, “All right.”

MJ hangs up first, leaving Peter to stand and eventually slump down onto a cold concrete floor to wait for her and Ned. He stares at his ruined suit, crumpled up at his feet. He doesn’t bother moving it.

The burns on his palms aren’t dissipating, and now that the adrenaline from earlier has worn off, Peter faces an immense pulsating type of pain that radiates up and down his arms and into his injured hands. He can barely move his fingers now, the pain is so excruciating.

Why isn’t he healing yet?

The intense pain makes it feel like his arms and hands are on fire again, but the frigid air around him makes Peter shiver violently. Without quite meaning to, he slowly slumps sideways. The sensation of simultaneously burning and freezing is strange and for a brief moment the boy feels like he’s floating.

Then his eyes are falling closed and his other senses begin to dull as well. His face hits the cool concrete just as Peter loses consciousness.

Chapter Text

Peter wakes up to the sounds of a rumbling car engine. He blinks his eyes open to the sight of MJ and Ned trying to push him into the backseat of a vehicle. Each of them has a grip on one of his arms and they’re still struggling to lift him onto the seat.

Peter idly wonders for a moment whether he’s gotten heavier, but then remembers he’s hardly been eating anything lately and realizes that Ned and MJ are probably struggling because he’s essentially dead weight.

“Peter?” Ned says, catching the boy’s eyes with his own. “Hey, you awake, buddy? Hold on, we got you. We’re gonna take you to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter exclaims, abruptly much more awake. “I’m fine, I swear! Just… just let me…” he trails off and hoists himself onto the seat.

“You are not fine,” MJ chimes in, giving Peter a stern look. “What the hell happened to your hands?”

“I, uh…” Peter bites his lower lip, uncertain what to say. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Those burns look… bad,” Ned says, a worried expression on his face. “Though, they seem a little better now than they did when we dragged you out of that house,” he adds, furrowing his eyebrows at Peter’s palms.

“I’ll be fine,” Peter repeats with a shaky smile. “I just need a little time to heal is all.”

MJ scoffs at that. “Uh-huh. Sure. We’re taking you to the hospital, Parker. And on the way there you are going to explain what the hell happened to you.”

“I—“ the boy starts.

“Maybe we should let him rest for now,” Ned interjects. “And you can question him at the hospital once his injuries get treated. I’m sure he’s in a lot of pain right now.”

Peter actually feels significantly better now compared to before he passed out, but he’ll take any excuse to avoid MJ’s mini inquisition.

“The weather is also getting worse,” Peter adds, glancing outside at the blizzard-like conditions. “My injuries don’t require medical attention; I promise. It’ll be safer if we go back to your house, MJ.”

“MJ?” Ned mouths, looking at the girl confusedly.

She shrugs in response and then turns her attention back on Peter. “You’ve got burn marks on your arms too, if you hadn’t noticed. I don’t even have enough bandages at my house for all of your injuries!”

“You won’t need any,” Peter tries to assure her. “Just give me, like, half an hour more and I promise I’ll be fine.”

MJ gives him a doubtful look. “Yeah, right. C’mon, Ned. I’ll drive.”

She shuts the car-door on Peter, effectively ending their conversation. The boy sighs and glances down at his burned hands. They already look so much better than earlier.

“Hey, what’s this?” Ned asks once he’s seated in the front passenger-side of the car. He holds up Peter’s Spider-Suit—or, well, what’s left of it. “We found this in the room with you back at the abandoned house. Were you at some superhero-themed costume party or something?”

Peter frowns at him, “What do you mean?”

“Well, this is clearly a Spider-Man costume. Though, no offense, man, but it’s not very good,” Ned replies, making a face. “The material feels pretty cheap.”

“Hey!” Peter says, offended. “I used what materials were available to me at the time. I think it’s pretty nice.”

“You made it yourself?” Ned asks with a raised brow. “Wow. Okay. Hmm.”

“What?”

Ned glances over at MJ, who has just sat down in the driver’s seat and slammed her door shut. Her expression is unreadable, but her fingers tense when she grips the steering wheel after shifting the car into gear.

“What’re you hiding, Parker?” MJ responds, looking at Peter via the rear-view mirror.

“I—“

“Did you seriously ditch us to go to some weird costume party?”

“No!” Peter exclaims. “No, of course not! I—trust me, I would’ve much rather preferred to stay with you guys.”

MJ fully turns around to look at him. “Then why didn’t you?” she asks.

Peter presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing that he can’t give her the response she wants. “It’s complicated,” he says.

“Surely it can’t be that complicated,” MJ argues.

“It is,” Peter says. “I’d tell you if I could, but I just… can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just… can’t,” Peter repeats. He looks down at his hands—almost fully healed now. “Look, I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he says, holding them up for her and Ned to see. “I told you I’d be fine.”

“That’s… not possible,” Ned says, his mouth falling open slightly. “How’re you doing that?”

MJ narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I know I don’t like it. We just spent over two hours looking for you, Peter. Two hours! We were so worried about you! And now you’re just…” she shakes her head and makes a face. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you,” Peter says, a bit exasperated. “Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t believe you,” MJ replies, now scowling at him. “Look, call me crazy if you want to, but… There’s just… There’s just something about you, Parker. I feel like I know you—or like I should know you.”

Peter drops his hands back down onto his lap and frowns at them. He doesn’t respond.

“We know each other somehow, don’t we?” MJ asks, her voice softening a bit.

“I have to go,” Peter says quietly, not looking up at his friends.

He tries to open the car door, but MJ locks it.

“Hey, what the hell?” he says, whipping his gaze over to her.

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain what’s going on,” she says, and now she sounds sad. “You owe us an explanation, Peter.”

“I can’t,” the boy says, feeling desperate. “I’m really sorry, but I just can’t.”

“Peter—“ MJ says, her expression fully dropping. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

“I have to go,” the boy repeats. He feels a sob coming on and wipes at his watering eyes before the tears can fall. “This was a mistake.”

Before MJ or Ned can try and convince him to stay, he forces the door open with his super-strength. He makes a mental note to pay for MJ’s car damages later (which means another withdrawal from his rent fund).

“Peter!” MJ shouts, stepping out of the warmth of the car and into the blizzard outside. “Just tell me what’s going on! Please!”

But Peter walks away without looking back. He doesn’t even know how to get back to his apartment from here, but he knows he can’t stay. As much as he desperately wants to, he truly can’t.

He distantly hears MJ and Ned arguing, before two car doors slam closed and a few minutes later they presumably drive away. Peter tells himself it’s for the best, but he feels tears track down his face and eventually freeze there as he tries to find his way back home.

Even though nothing feels like home anymore.

Chapter Text

Peter eventually finds his way back to his apartment building. He feels nearly frozen solid and his hands—though now burn-free—are starting to turn a concerning shade of blue/purple. He fumbles to find his apartment key and it takes a few tries for him to put it in the lock. He shoves the door open and stumbles inside, promptly face-planting into his bed and lying there for a few minutes while he tries to get warm.

Of course his space heater isn’t working, so it’s hardly any warmer here than it is outside. At least it’s not snowing, he thinks to himself.

His stomach growls but he ignores it. He’s out of food anyway.

Peter must doze off, because the next thing he knows a weak stream of sunlight is glistening through frosted windows and onto his face. He groans and slowly sits up, trying to remember what brought him back here last night.

He was hanging out with MJ and Ned. That’s how it started. Then there was the string of house fires that he had to deal with. Then… then MJ and Ned found him in an abandoned house and tried to take him to the hospital. And then—right. He freaked out on them and bolted.

Peter shoves his face against his pillow and lets out an angry scream. Mostly at himself. A little at Doctor Strange for the stupid fucking spell he agreed to do three months ago.

Somehow, the screaming turns into crying which then evolves into nearly hysterical sobbing. Peter knows how pathetic he must look, but the pain of the past three months is well and truly catching up to him.

He lost his aunt. The whole world forgot about him. He’s a complete stranger to Ned, and MJ—

Peter sniffles into his pillow and tries to take in a few measured breaths.

But still, still there’s a voice at the back of his head consistently reminding him that he had MJ, if only for a brief moment in time, and almost immediately lost her.

She’d said—

She’d told him—

And she didn’t give him the chance to say it back. And he would have. He absolutely would have. And he would have meant it, too.

But now she doesn’t even remember him and he’s all alone in his shitty apartment with shitty heating and it’s Christmas and he’s spending it alone and he’s ready for everything to just be done.

Some time later, Peter drags himself up and out of bed and into his shitty little bathroom. A glance in the mirror turns out to be a major mistake—he looks horrid.

His eyes are bloodshot from crying and his whole face is splotchy. He looks too thin in his t-shirt and jeans. He feels cold down to his very bones.

Peter takes a shower—as hot as he can get it to go—and then trudges back out into his bedroom/kitchenette/living room to find some clean clothing. It takes him a minute or so before he remembers that he left his one sweatshirt at MJ’s and left his only winter coat in the middle of a random neighborhood somewhere.

“God-fucking-dammit,” he swears aloud, plopping down on his couch and putting his head in his hands. “When will this get easier?” he whispers to no one. “When will things get better?”

A handful of minutes later he pulls his phone out of his pocket and realizes he should probably charge it. He plugs it in to an outlet on the wall but for some reason it won’t charge. He exchanges the current cord for a different one, but it still won’t work. Sighing a bit, he moves the charging cable and adapter to a different outlet; the result is the same.

It takes him a little too long to realize that the power is out. Of-fucking-course. He didn’t notice in the bathroom because the building has hot-water based heating rather than electricity based heating.

Peter can’t even call the landlord since his phone is dead.

The single clock his tiny apartment has to offer reads six in the morning, so he figures it’s too early to bother the neighbors about the issue.

For the time being, he decides to tug on a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His stomach growls again and he grimaces.

The extra money from the Christmas gifts for MJ and Ned is still in the backpack he left at MJ’s, which means he has to dig into the small amount of cash he has stored in his nightstand for food.

He takes two steps outside of his apartment before he remembers that it’s Christmas and that nothing will probably be open because of that.

Peter tells himself that it’s fine and he’s gone whole days without a meal in the past couple months so he can do it again. He tells himself that he won’t cry again. He tells himself that he’s fine and he doesn’t need anyone and he doesn’t care that he’s spending Christmas alone in an apartment without heat and electricity.

He’s sobbing again when there’s a knock on the front door.

Thinking it’s perhaps a neighbor coming over to give an update about the power outage situation, Peter tries to dry his eyes as best as he can with his shirt-sleeves and trudges over to the door. Before opening it he looks through the peep-hole.

It’s MJ.

She’s holding his backpack in one hand and some kind of duffel bag in the other.

Peter debates how much of a coward he would be if he tried to crawl out the window and down the fire escape to avoid what’s probably going to be a very painful conversation. If he weren’t so hungry and cold and worn down, he might actually do it. But as it currently stands, he’s lonely and upset and quite frankly wants to see MJ.

So he unlocks and opens the door.

“How’d you find me?” he asks before MJ can say anything.

“Ned tracked your phone’s location—which he can still do when your device is out of power, by the way,” MJ answers, stepping inside Peter’s apartment. “God, it’s freezing in here, Parker. How do you stand it like this?”

“Not very well,” the boy answers with a scowl. “The heating in this place is shit and my space-heater broke a few days ago. Also, the power is out because of course it is.”

“It must’ve gotten knocked out in the blizzard last night,” MJ says, taking a few more cautious steps inside the room.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You left your backpack at my house,” MJ says after a couple beats of awkward silence. “I thought you’d want it back.”

She hands it to Peter and gives a tentative smile.

“Thanks,” the boy says, attempting a thankful smile of his own.

“I know it’s kind of weird for me to stop by so early like this, but I was worried about you,” MJ says, sounding a little embarrassed. “I thought…” she trails off and shakes her head. “Well, you seem to be okay. But I just… I was worried.”

Peter is anything but okay; he refrains from telling MJ as much.

“Ah. Well, like I said, I’m tougher than I look,” he tries to joke.

The girl does not look the slightest bit impressed. “Look, I know I may have been a bit pushy last night, but I feel like Ned and I deserve to know what happened. You had severe burns on your arms and hands one minute and then, like, twenty minutes later they were almost completely gone! And, you also somehow managed to force a locked car-door open with your bare hands? That is not normal. Just tell me what’s going on, Peter. Please.”

“You know I can’t,” Peter says.

“But why not?! Why’s it such a big fucking secret?!” MJ demands.

The boy purses his lips together and doesn’t reply. Instead, he throws his backpack half-heartedly on his bed and then plops down beside it.

“I know there’s something here,” MJ continues, walking closer. “Something about you. About all of us. Me and you and Ned. I don’t know how it’s all connected, but I know it is.”

Peter scoffs; it’s a harsh sound. “Oh yeah?” he challenges. “How do you figure that?”

MJ expression changes. It softens at the edges, a crack in her normally infallible façade of confidence. “I can feel it,” she answers quietly. “I’m not sure what it is yet,” she admits, “but I know it involves us three and I know it’s important.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter mutters weakly, not nearly prepared enough at the moment for this particular conversation.

“Everything about you just seems so… familiar,” MJ continues, undeterred. “And there are things I just can’t explain away.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, mildly interested at where she’s going with this. “Like what?”

MJ pulls something out of her jacket pocket and holds it up for him to see. “This necklace. Part of it’s broken, but I have no idea how it got that way. And I have no idea where it even came from.”

It’s the Black Dahlia necklace Peter bought for her.

“But I think you know, don’t you?” MJ says, eyeing Peter carefully. “I think you were the one who bought it for me.”

Peter clears his throat and forces back a sob. He will not cry in front of MJ. Not like this. Not anymore.

“Why would you think that?” he asks in a voice that’s much weaker than he’d like it to be.

“Well, for one thing, you’ve been acting super weird around me since the first time we met back at the bakery. Kind of like—like you’re waiting for me to say something. But I don’t know what it is.”

“You wouldn’t,” Peter mumbles under his breath as he looks down at the floor.

“I… I mean something to you. Or… at least I used to at some point. It’s just, for some reason I can’t seem to remember any of it.”

Peter looks back up. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“No,” MJ shakes her head. “No, it’s not. And clearly you seem to know at least some of what’s going on, so please just tell me, Peter.”

The boy lets out a heavy sigh, “I can’t.”

“You have to,” MJ protests. “I feel like I’m going crazy not knowing. There are gaps in my life where I know you fit somehow. I know you’re an important person in my life.”

“But you don’t remember me,” Peter deadpans.

“But I want to,” MJ insists. “Look, I know you’re not… exactly normal. But hey, that’s okay. I’m not one to judge. Ever since the Blip, it feels like nothing has been normal. If you have powers or something, I’m not gonna, like, freak out on you.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Peter agrees. “But we’re not having this conversation right now—or ever, for that matter.”

MJ crosses her arms. “Why not?” she asks, sounding indignant.

“Because it’s better that way.”

“And why is it that you’re the only one who gets to make that decision? This involves me too, Peter. I should get a say in the matter.”

“Well, you don’t,” the boy says with a tone of finality. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

He gets up off the bed and starts ushering MJ back toward the door.

“Wait, hold on,” she says, halting a few steps from the doorway. “You can’t just kick me out while we’re still having a conversation.”

“The conversation is over,” Peter says plainly. “Thanks for bringing my stuff back over, but I really think it’s time for you to leave.”

“But—“

“I’m sorry, MJ. I really am. But I just can’t do this right now,” Peter interrupts.

MJ looks ready to argue some more, but after a few beats her expression falls and she slowly nods. “All right,” she says dejectedly. “Before I go, though, Ned and I got a couple things for you. Y’know, since you bought presents for us? That was really thoughtful of you, by the way. We opened them this morning after we got back to my house.”

“I’m glad you both liked them,” Peter says, not quite able to meet MJ’s gaze. “You didn’t need to get me anything, though.”

“We wanted to,” MJ says. She sets the duffel bag on the tiny kitchen counter and unzips it. “They’re kind of last minute gifts, I’ll admit, but I hope you like them anyways.”

Peter looks inside the duffel and sees what looks like a fuzzy blanket and a brand new coat.

“We found your jacket on the side of the road while we were looking for you last night,” MJ explains. “It was a little worse for wear, so we decided to get you a new one. And Ned’s nana made the blanket, so…” she shrugs and then gives the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Thank you,” Peter says, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “It means a lot.”

“No problem,” MJ replies with a proper smile.

And Peter has to turn away because he knows he’s about to cry again. He inwardly curses at himself and wishes he wasn’t so emotional all the time.

“Are you okay?” MJ asks hesitantly.

Peter should say yes. He should say that’s he’s perfectly fine. Or he should just nod his head and wait for her to leave.

Except he knows MJ. And he knows she won’t leave without a proper response.

But he also knows that if he tries to talk he’ll probably cry.

Peter shakes his head. Wipes away a few wayward tears from his face. Presses the heels of his palms against his eyes to stop them from watering.

“Peter…” MJ says softly.

“You’re making this so hard on me,” he manages to get out between choked sobs.

“What do you mean?” MJ asks.

“It’s so hard for me to… to try and say goodbye to you when you’re acting like this,” Peter says.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“It’s supposed to be easy… I’m supposed to be letting go of you…”

“Peter, what the hell are you talking about?” MJ asks helplessly.

“We were together!” Peter finally blurts out, whipping back around to face the girl again. “We were together and you—you and everyone else forgot about me! And I thought I’d be okay with that, but I’m not! It hurts. Every day, it hurts. I wake up alone. I have no friends. I live in this shitty-ass apartment that I can barely even afford. My life fucking sucks,” he says all in one huge breath, tears streaming down his face.

MJ stares at him. Blinks a couple times. She looks down at the broken necklace she’s still holding in one of her hands for some reason. Then, her expression seems to clear all at once when she looks back up at the boy.

“Peter…” she says, voice barely audible.

“I know, I know. You probably think I’m pathetic,” he says, wiping his face on his shirtsleeves for the second time this morning.

“Peter,” MJ repeats, now gazing at him with something that looks suspiciously like—

Like recognition.

Chapter Text

“Do you… do you remember anything?” Peter dares to ask.

MJ slowly nods. “The spell. You had Doctor Strange perform some kind of mass amnesia spell. Right?”

“Yeah,” Peter confirms. “What else do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces, I think. I mean, I know you’re Spider-Man, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Peter echoes, trying to not sound too hopeful just yet.

“And you, me and Ned all went to high school together,” MJ adds.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“We all became friends and got dragged along for some of your superhero shit, yeah?”

“Well, I wouldn’t quite call it that. But, yeah,” Peter agrees.

“Then… then Mysterio told everyone that you were Spider-Man. And you tried to get Doctor Strange to do a spell, but it didn’t work the first time. Then some weird thing happened with the multiverse and we had to stop villains from alternate timelines—and a couple alternate universe Peter Parkers showed up to help as well!” MJ says, seemingly very proud at having remembered all of this. “And then… then something got messed up and Doctor Strange had to do the memory wiping spell to stop the universe from collapsing in on itself or something, right?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“Am I missing anything?” MJ asks, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Ah, well, as far as earth-shattering stuff goes, you’ve pretty much got the gist of it,” Peter answers. “But um… how much do you remember about, y’know, us?” he asks timidly, already afraid of what answer she might give.

“Well, we were friends for a couple years and then I had a crush on you,” MJ responds. “I remember that much. I think I recall sharing a kiss with you during some school related trip.”

“Yes, that did happen,” Peter confirms.

“We must’ve gotten pretty close, because before the memory wiping thing happened, I remember being really sad,” MJ says, looking down at the floor.

Peter gulps, “Do you remember anything else? Any… words or phrases or anything like that?”

“Hmmm,” MJ thinks for a moment. “More like generalized scenarios, if that makes sense. I know we had recently just started dating, though.”

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s pretty much it,” MJ finishes.

“Ah,” Peter says, trying to not sound disappointed. “Well, you definitely seem to remember the, uh, important stuff. So I guess that’s what counts.”

Even though she doesn’t remember loving me, Peter thinks to himself.

MJ smiles. “I thought you’d be a little happier, now that I remember everything.”

“Oh, I am,” Peter tries to assure her. “Believe me, this is so much better than when you had no idea who I was.”

“But?”

“But… it’s just that, well, it appears that you don’t quite remember everything,” Peter says. “But that’s okay ‘cause like I said you seem to know all the important stuff,” he adds quickly.

“Are you trying to imply that us being in love isn’t included in the whole ‘important stuff’ category?”

“I, uh, well—“ Peter stammers, completely at a loss for words.

MJ gives him a look. “Did you really think I’d forget about loving you, Peter? I mean, I know I did for a little while, but you know what I mean.”

Peter nods but doesn’t respond. He’s still trying to process the words he’s currently hearing.

“Ugh, say it back, idiot,” MJ says with an eye-roll.

“Huh?” Peter asks, confused.

“I told you before to wait to say it. I thought it might give you some incentive to come find me and explain what happened. I realize now that you tried to at the bakery that one day but then… didn’t, for some reason? But you did eventually, kind of. I mean, actually you didn’t explain anything to me, but we’re here now anyways, so…” she trails off and smiles.

“Oh, uh, right. Yeah. Of course,” Peter says. “Yes,” he smiles back. “I love you, MJ.”

“I love you too, Parker.”

Chapter Text

“So you’ve been living here for the past three months?” MJ asks.

Though he’s no longer teary-eyed, Peter is acutely aware of how gross he must look. Surely his face is all splotchy and his eyes are probably puffy. He’s grateful that MJ now remembers him, he really is, but he totally just had a major meltdown in front of her.

As much as he tries to put his pride aside, he can’t help but feel a little stupid now. Was he being over-dramatic?

“Uh, yeah,” he responds, not quite making eye contact.

MJ takes a cursory look over the tiny space and then gives a small, polite smile. “It’s… cute.”

“It’s shitty,” Peter corrects with a grimace. “Don’t even try to sugarcoat it.”

“Well, in any case, you’re not staying here,” MJ says.

Peter narrows his eyes, skeptical. “Why not?”

“Because, like you said, it sucks.”

“But I don’t have anywhere else to go,” the boy says pointedly.

“Ned and I will figure something out,” MJ promises with a secretive sort of smile.

Peter isn’t so sure about that, but at this point he’ll pretty much take anything.

“Okay, well… what do we do now? Ned still doesn’t remember me,” Peter reminds her.

MJ ponders something for a moment and then says, “I have a few things in mind to maybe help jog his memory. Before we deal with that, though, can we maybe just have some… us time? I mean, apparently we have three whole months to make up for.”

“That’s true,” Peter agrees. “Can we make up for lost time at your house, maybe? It’s freezing in here.”

MJ laughs, “Yeah, of course.”

Before the two leave his apartment, Peter pulls MJ in for a quick kiss. She smiles against his lips and pulls him in closer. Though this isn’t their first kiss, they haven’t had the chance to share many in their brief time together, which makes Peter all the more happy to have MJ back.

The thought of actually getting to have a real relationship with her almost makes up for the past three months of loneliness and longing. A part of Peter is still upset with Doctor Strange for agreeing to do the memory wiping spell, but ultimately he knows it was the right decision in the end.

“So… are we swinging back to my house, or…?” MJ asks once the two are standing outside Peter’s apartment building.

“Ah, unfortunately I’m not quite as high-tech as I used to be,” Peter apologizes with a wince. “Building cool detachable web-shooters are kind of out of my budget at the moment. As are most things.”

“Right,” MJ nods understandingly. “I suppose you’ll need to make a new suit at some point, too?”

The boy nods, “Once I save up enough money for the materials, yeah.”

MJ gives him a soft look. “I can help you pay for them,” she kindly offers. “It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

“No, no, no,” Peter says, waving her words away. “I’m an adult now. It’s my responsibility to take care of myself.”

“You’re seventeen,” MJ responds, giving him a pointed look. “And don’t give me some bullshit about technically being older ‘cause of the Blip. That doesn’t count.”

Peter frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“You can still be an adult and accept help from people sometimes, Parker. That won’t make anyone think any less of you.”

The boy gives her a doubtful look.

“Well, it won’t make me and Ned think any less of you, at the very least. And don’t our opinions matter to you more than those of random strangers?” MJ asks.

Peter bites his lip, uncertain. “I don’t wanna seem like—like a charity case to you guys.”

“You’re not,” MJ says assuringly. “Ned is your best friend—and he’ll remember that soon. And I’m your girlfriend. We both care about you, Peter,” she adds seriously. “We both love you.”

“I know, I know,” Peter replies, looking down at the snowy sidewalk as the two continue walking in the general direction of MJ’s house. “I care about you guys too, obviously. It’s just… I dunno. These past few months have been really hard on me and I guess I felt like I just… had to grow up. Everyone was suddenly gone and I was all alone. It was—it was terrifying,” he admits quietly.

MJ entwines his hand with hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Well, you’re not alone anymore, okay? You have us.”

Peter glances over at her and smiles sadly, “I just hope it lasts this time.”

“Me too, Parker. Me too.”