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The headlights of the cars passing below blurred into one continuous line that blended with the white noise of their tires humming on the asphalt. A chill breeze played through the trees, their swaying branches illuminated by the lights on the overpass.
It would be so easy…
Peter Parker sat on the railing, swinging his legs in a facade of carelessness that contradicted the turmoil inside.
So easy…
His throat burned, and he wiped the moisture from his cheeks, staring at the vehicles below.
One jump, that’s all it would take. One jump, and I could be with Aunt May.
Web shooters: eject. They shot out of his wrists and pinged down to the interstate. Mask: on.
Not that it’ll matter much. No one knows who I am anyway.
He tensed, edging further and further off the edge, until he dangled one-armed over the speeding traffic. Enhanced healing would only go so far, and then it would all be over.
No web shooters to save you now. Come on, Spider-Man. Let’s give J. Jonah Jameson something to really rant about. I can see the headline now: COWARD SPIDER-MAN CALLS IT QUITS.
He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and—
A hand clamped his wrist. Peter’s gaze shot up, and he could barely hold back a cry of panic. No, no, no, this can't be happening. “What-what are you doing here?” You shouldn't be here, please leave, please, please…
“Don’t do this, Spider-Man, sir. This isn't the way.” The newcomer’s face began to turn red as he tried to pull the superhero higher, and he grunted with the strain. “C’mon, you’re going to pull me over with you. Help me get you up here, will you?”
Please leave me alone, I don't want you here, I want to be alone …Peter pulled in several deep breaths before reaching up with his other hand to pull himself onto the railing. He didn’t know whether to feel ashamed about being caught, or disappointed that he’d been stopped.
“What are you doing here?” He repeated.
“I...followed...you?” The words were spoken hesitantly, haltingly, as if he didn’t want to tell the truth but couldn’t help it. The familiarity of the voice sent a fresh stab of pain to Peter’s heart. “I saw you save that old lady from those thugs, and I just thought you, y’know, might like me to help you again.”
Peter froze and gave his guest a wary stare. “Why do you say that?” Does he remember?
“Well, I mean, I was your guy in the chair. And like, dude, it was awesome , and I’d...like to...do it again.” He reached for Peter’s mask and paused. “Do you mind? I mean, I did help you out, so...don’t you think I could maybe finally find out who I’ve been working with?”
Peter recoiled and turned away. “No.” I’m sorry, Ned. It has to stay this way. He blinked the tears away, disappointment crushing. Breathe, Peter. You’re okay. You're fine. You're tough.
“Oh...okay.” A look of hurt flashed across Ned’s face, and Peter bit his lip. Idiot, can’t stop hurting those around you, can you?
“Look, uh,” Peter reached out, about to put a hand on Ned’s shoulder, but thought better of it and pulled away. “I really appreciate you coming by, Ned, but um, I’m actually in the middle of a really important mission, and I, uh, kinda need you to, y’know, go find a safe...place.”
Ned blinked, mouth hanging open, and shook his head. His double chin quivered. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“Yeah, well, since when have you become the expert on superheroes?” Peter snapped, then instantly regretted it. “I’m-I’m sorry, Ned, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay, you’re right. I’m not an expert. Sir.” Ned gave him a half-smile before giving up on his usual cheerfulness. “I’ll leave...if you can tell me that you weren’t about to do what I think you were about to do.”
Peter frowned. “What do you mean?”
Ned stared at him, as if debating whether or not to spell it out for what was probably the dumbest superhero he’d ever met. Technically only one of two, but who’s counting? “If you weren’t about to jump off of this bridge without your web shooters, and‐and‐ well, do something that everyone would regret, then just give me your word, and I'll leave you alone.”
C’mon, Spider-Man. Lie. Lie to your best friend so he doesn’t have to see you like this.
But...he wasn’t Peter’s best friend anymore.
Not anymore…
Peter sighed and turned away, fiddling with his hands. The mask suddenly felt constricting.
“That’s what I thought.” Ned stepped one foot over the railing and hesitated. “That’s...a long way down.” He brought his other leg over. “And those cars are...going...really fast.”
“Dude, what are you doing?” Peter’s heart rate jacked up a notch, and a chill swept his body.
Clutching the railing with white knuckles, Ned slowly sat next to Peter and swallowed hard, still staring down. “I’m...talking to Spider-Man?”
“Dude, get out of here. It's way too dangerous for you to be out here.”
“And it’s not for you without your web shooters?” Ned finally tore his gaze from below them and latched it on Peter’s face. “You’re Spider-Man. You don’t do stuff like this. What’s going on? Sir?”
Peter shook his head, panic rising. “No, no, you don’t understand. Ned, you’re one of the most clumsy people I know; if you fell, I’d never forgive myself.”
“And if you fell, I’d never forgive myself.” Ned’s stare was so intense, Peter’s heart ached. “And besides, how do you know I’m so clumsy?”
“Oh, well, I…y’know...I’m a superhero." It was a half-hearted effort at best, trying to come up with an excuse, but Peter didn't care anymore. "I make it my business to know all about the people I work with.”
Ned paused, squinting, then nodded, seeming to accept the explanation. “Okay.” He lapsed into silence for a moment, but as typical for Ned, didn’t keep the silence for long. “Can we please get off this edge? I can only put on a brave face for so long.”
You’d be surprised how brave you can be, Ned . “Sure.” Though everything in him screamed do it now! he swung his legs over to the other side of the railing, then gripped Ned’s arm as he did the same. You’re not dying tonight. Not on my watch .
Ned stared up at him for several moments, and with each passing second Peter’s heart sank.
“Together, we can build my new LEGO death star!” Ned’s words echoed in his mind, striking a chord that cut deep. Don’t break down, Spider-Man. You’re made of tougher stuff than this. You fought an alien. You fought alongside Iron Man and stole Captain America's shield. You. Are.
His legs shook.
Nothing. You are nothing. His heart knew it was a lie, but sometimes believing a lie was better than believing the truth that being anything just made a person that much more lonely when they had to move on alone.
“Are you okay?” Ned’s voice brought him back to the present.
No. I’m not okay. My aunt is dead. Tony Stark is dead. The people that matter the most to me don’t even know who I am. I’m completely, one hundred percent, alone. Peter nodded.
Ned hesitated, then turned away and held out a hand in invitation. "Would…would you like to come build a LEGO kit with me?"
It was like a punch to his stomach. He swallowed hard and struggled to breathe evenly. Peter's chin trembled, and he clenched his jaw to keep from breaking down completely. How much of a wimp was he, that the mere mention of a toy had such an effect on him? He should say no. It was a cheesy offer; what superhero would play with LEGOs, of all things?
But he found himself grasping at a thread of hope and clinging to it with all his might. He stepped forward and gave Ned a fist bump. "Sure."
He'd regret it; he knew he would.
But not tonight.