Chapter Text
Clicking through a few test shots, some he knew were going into his submission to The Daily Bugle without second thought, Peter took a moment to let his surroundings sink in. Bright colors streak across the crowds and the skies, the hollering of street foods for the passerby to buy, and the excited energy buzzing from person to person makes the walk closer to the stage memorable. On the stage were a group of musicians in the middle of setting up for their performance, he quickly lifts his camera to take a shot before he waits for the show to start.
Rarely does he ever get assigned to these local events and he’s thankful for whoever decided that the designated Spider-Man photographer should take pictures of the music fest skirting outside Washington Heights. It’s been a little over a year since he returned to his dimension and while seeking therapy for that was, without a doubt, out of the question, Peter found a way to slowly heal the grief that weighed in his heart. He started on himself first by starting college, two years later than the rest of his classmates who went straight in after graduating. He had been hesitant at first, worried that he wouldn’t have been able to juggle the new responsibilities of a 22 year old college student while working for the Bugle on top of being Spider-Man. It took some time but he soon found a routine that worked out well and he also managed to make a couple of friends while he was at it.
It felt odd doing Peter Parker stuff, but it was a welcome change.
As Spider-Man, he took a page out of his younger counterpart's book and attempted to lead the criminals and thugs he came across to rehabilitation.
It worked better for the smaller street crimes, of course. A man who stole a woman’s purse was kicked out of his home after being wrongfully accused by his partner, a thug collecting money from certain businesses was forced by a gang leader who threatened to harm his family, even the teen that stole from the hospital his Aunt May found work in was trying to get medicine for her younger siblings. The police had been wary when he started bringing the people he had caught directly to them, and were perplexed whenever he suggested that some of them have their case be looked into or when he requested for a trusted social worker.
No one was without their doubts, but New York began to slowly put their trust into their masked vigilante once again instead of holding their breath in apprehension of his next move.
It was slow-going. The atonement for hurting those that had nothing to do with the mistake he held onto for years. The shame still burned, but the forgiveness from the citizens was a comforting balm.
The shrill of a woman from the stage broke his musing, muscles tensed to spring into action, but when the cry turned into a high-pitched laugh he looked up. Center stage was a woman in a dress, the fabric light and airy, arms out as if to welcome the crowd with her call. Soon after, a symphony began and the people around him began to clap to the beat while others danced to the rhythm. Peter took this as his cue to start taking pictures, a lopsided smile on his face as the music carried throughout the early evening. It was one of those times where he gets to see everyone from different walks of life take a moment to appreciate one another.
The musicians on stage danced along, smiles across their faces as the singer belted out their song. Peter watched as the woman who sang shuffled gracefully to the back of the stage and gently pulled one of the guitarists by the elbow to the front of the stage. There was a brief cheer to the appearance, a bashful expression on their face as they continued to strum and pluck at the guitar. The singer gestured at the mic stand, expression bright and a touch pleading. The guitarist rolled their eyes, albeit with a fond smile on their lips, and began to sing while the woman beside them danced.
Peter had watched everything through the lens on his camera up until the change of singers, lowering the device to take in the guitarist’s appearance with his own eyes. There was something about the way they sang that took hold of his heart and made him watch with undivided attention. The singer before them had surprised him at first, the music was vastly different from what he had saved from his phone, but he could still appreciate it nonetheless. The guitarist was on a whole other level entirely that quenched a thirst he never thought he had in the first place.
Brown, doe eyes never left them as soon as they finished their verses, the singer back with a mic in her hand whilst giving the guitarist kisses on the cheek reminiscent of a cheeky mother trying to get a rise out of her child. With a playful swat at the display, the guitarist returned to their spot in the back of the band set-up. It was sweet, reminding the brunet when he was a kid and Aunt May was trying to cheer him up after he was upset. He lifts his camera and takes a picture or two of the guitarist before remembering that there were other musicians and performers as well.
The song lasts longer than he expected; at least, that’s what he believes. The singer makes a show out of bowing to the audience, thanking them and then personally thanks the others on stage by name. She chooses to save the best for last, again going deep into the stage and twirling the guitarist back to the front. Their name was sung by her, another applause and a few cheers erupted from the crowd.
“A special thank you for filling in! We appreciate you so much, chiquite!” The singer smothers the guitarist with another barrage of kisses on their face, a comical squawk from them leaving Peter chuckling at the sight. It was clear that this particular musician was well-loved by the band. “As a gift, we as a band decided to let our beloved friend perform one of their songs for you all as well! We hope you enjoy it!” Pulling out the program one of the music fest volunteers shoved into his hands when he passed the welcome banner, he checked to see if it was a last minute decision or the guitarist simply filled in the set-up time for the next band. Sure enough their name was right below the band’s.
The band helped the guitarist with their set-up, the backstage crew pulling the curtain across to cover the stage as they didn’t have a lot of equipment in the first place. Right near the edge of the stage was their guitar stand, a small synth keyboard to their right, and a small square piece of equipment on the floor that Peter was able to spot before they cleared their throat. A water bottle was tossed their way and they barely caught it, slowly downing half of it down before wiping the sweat across their forehead with the back of their hand. They didn’t seem nervous, but they seemed a touch anxious.
Thoughts of who they were began to pile in Peter’s head. Perhaps they were a new musician around town, maybe they haven't played in ages, someone they’re hoping to make proud in the audience? He was lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet, a contrast to the people around him shifting from side to side in anticipation. He’s only ever heard of them since they were introduced but he finds himself excited to watch them, to hear more of their music.
You catch his eyes, surprised and amused at the childlike wonder in his face. With renewed confidence, you begin your song.
It’s late in the night when he finishes up his photos and makes time to enjoy the rest of the music fest before heading out. Peter was able to talk to a few familiar faces, classmates from years before and ones he’ll see the next day for class to the deli guy that made his sandwich since he was in elementary. His Spidey senses hadn’t alerted him of anything nor has he heard a whisper of trouble since he stepped foot into the fest. It was a rare night for him indeed and he hoped that it would stay that way until he was able to meet the musician that captivated him.
After your song, you were quick to wheel off your things off stage for the next performance. He tried to make his way towards you but by the time he made it right by the side of the stage, you were gone and so were your things. Peter awkwardly stood there for a moment before the singer from before tapped him on the shoulder and asked what he was doing there. When he explained that he worked for the Bugle and was taking pictures, the woman narrowed her eyes a bit with crossed arms and pointed out that he seemed to be looking for someone specifically . Flustered and figured that there was no point lying to the woman when she was giving him that look, his words fumbled out quickly that he wanted to take a picture of you close up, that he hoped he wasn’t being creepy it was really for his work and yes hedoesworkfortheBuglehehashisbadgean -
“ Ay díos mio , I didn’t know you’d get this worked up!” Peter hadn’t realized until the sound of laughter cut through his rambling that the singer had put a reassuring hand on his shoulder to gently shake him out of it. “Tell you what, I don’t know where they went to be honest with you. But I can tell you for sure that they’re still here wandering about.” She straightened up the shoulders of his jacket, the fabric having bunched up throughout the day, and brushed off any dirt that may have made it there with a motherly smile.
“They wouldn’t want to miss out on all the free food, since they’re a favorite of the neighborhood. I suggest you get some food yourself, mister. You look rather thin.”
While slightly offended at that, he thought he had a decent build after being Spider-Man and whatnot, he still purchased an arepa and a pupusa to-go at the lady’s behest. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning, so the insistence was appreciated after he took a couple bites. He continued to wander about, looking for you as he munched on his last meal for the night. What would he even say when runs into you? Now that he thought about it, aside from needing photos for the Bugle, what else was there to add to the conversation? He wasn’t exactly a journalist for the paper, and if you already ran into Daphne, the singer from earlier, she would’ve told you about him.
Brows furrowed in thought, he almost didn’t notice you pass him as you munched on various snacks and street foods. Peter was about to reach out to you, your name barely on the tip of his tongue, when he felt it .
You saw him turn to where the worried murmurs of people pointed towards and followed Doe Eyes’ gaze, the unmistakable red and blue lights flashing on the road pursuing a speeding car with bills flying out the window.
Immediately you snapped your attention back to the boy with the camera but found the spot empty, as if he blinked out of existence. You could hear Daphne call out for you, needing help calming the crowd down and you quickened your step towards her. You were hoping to run into the guy that seemed to really like your music and thank him for calming your nerves, but that would have to wait another day as you watched Spider-Man swing across the skyscrapers to catch up with the crime.