Chapter Text
Peter sat on the edge of his old apartment, looking down over the bustling city and couldn't help but think just how accurate it was to call it the 'City that Never Sleeps'. He could be on patrol looking for any possible threats but his body felt stuck in place. His eyes felt heavy. His heart felt numb.
So instead he sat there, his gaze drifting upward just in time to spot the first fall of snow. He barely registered the soft sigh he let out as he watched the snowflakes drift down towards the street, landing on his outstretched, gloved, hand. He felt a small twinge as it brought back the memory of when he was six years old. His first year staying with his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He had been quiet and reserved, still reeling at the loss of his parents, when Uncle Ben had excitedly barged into his room...
"Peter, Peter! It's snowing outside! Come and look!" he'd said, picking up Peter and spinning the boy in his arms like he always used to when they would babysit him. Only this time there was no boisterous laugh from the small boy. He barely smiled. This didn't seem to deter Uncle Ben though, as he sat the boy up on his shoulders and called out to his wife, "May! Meet us up on the roof!"
Peter's brow furrowed as he said that. Don't you normally go outside to play in the snow? Why would they take him up to the roof? He had gotten his answer a few minutes later when outside on the roof Peter watched several snowflakes land around him only to melt an instant later. Snow wasn't very common in New York, with most of it sticking around only in the first few months of the new year. So of course there wasn't enough for it to stick, instead melting as it touched the ground.
"The snow isn't even staying..." Peter mumbled softly as Uncle Ben put the brown-eyed boy down beside him. This time it was his aunt's voice he heard from behind him, the woman having the foresight to bring up their coats which Ben had left behind in his haste.
"It may not be staying, but look up as it falls," Peter tilted his head curiously before glancing up at the sky as May continued, "Each of those snowflakes? They are unique, Peter. None of them is just like the other, each having its own pattern, size, and shape."
Peter blinked as his six-year-old brain took in that information, and his eyes grew a bit bigger."Really? Every single one is different?" he questioned, and May nodded back as she helped him put his Jacket on. "But how? How can there be so many and none of them look the same?" he asked, his voice growing a bit louder out of curiosity.
He missed the small grin that Ben had given May as the woman knelt to Peter's height and put her arms on his shoulders. "It sounds impossible, I know, but even things that feel impossible can be true. Sometimes, life just finds a way," she told him. He looked at the sky again, his eyes feeling slightly wet. He told Aunt May it was from the snow but she picked him up and pulled him into a big bear hug anyway, his uncle coming over and joining in a moment later, and hey, it looked like some snow had gotten into their eyes too.
Now, though, all he could think about when looking at the snow was the sleet that had fallen around him as he stood stock still listening to the horrors the reporter had said about him on the news. Knowing every word of it was true.
He blinked as he felt himself return to reality a moment later. Numbness coursed through his body as he realized he had just spent several minutes staring at his gloved hand. Dissociation, his therapist had called it. He did it now and then after he lost his parents. Since then, it had come and gone in waves. Worsening when he was going through a particularly rough time in his life. Like when he had lost Mr. Stark, or shortly after the Mysterio incident.
He can hardly say he's surprised it was happening more frequently again. After all, it'd only been three months since the battle at the Statue of Liberty. Three months since Dr. Strange had cast his spell to repair the multiverse.
Three months since Peter Parker never existed.
The brunette tried to take it in stride, really, he had. Tried to think of it as a fresh start. Armed with the knowledge of his last few years as Spider-Man, he could start his vigilante gig over. This time being more cautious to avoid getting anyone caught up in what he was doing. Keep himself at a distance from others so they can't figure out his secret. Make sure he never put anyone in a situation where he could lose them again.
He already got a head start on that front, given that anyone that had ever known anything about the boy named "Peter Parker" had their memories completely wiped. He had to admit that he held out hope that once MJ and Ned saw him, maybe they would remember... or just a small part of them would feel like something was off. It was clear as soon as he looked into MJ's eyes that night at the coffee shop though, that she had no recollection of him at all. Not even an inkling. Just another stranger getting a coffee in the busy streets of New York. Another nameless face in the crowd.
Just like the snowflakes falling around him now. There in the blink of an eye, and gone in the next. He turned back to the fallen flakes again. His enhanced vision traced the unique patterns on each one as they passed by him only to flutter to the ground and fade. Aunt May had called them unique, but what did it matter when they faded before you could fully take in their beauty?
What was the point in something so ephemeral being so special?
He was realizing that maybe their lives were no different. Every person was different. Special. Unique. Here one day, and gone the next. He had watched so many fade away in his life, despite being so young.
He picked out a snowflake and watched it fall toward the ground. Mom. Another fell shortly after. Dad, he thought to himself, the silhouettes of a man and woman coming to his mind, ones that he couldn't even fully place the features to anymore. He thought it would hurt, but he still felt numb. He quickly found another, Uncle Ben. This time the man's face was clearer, picturing the playful grin as the man would ruffle his hair. Still, he remained numb as he caught sight of another one out of the corner of his eye. Mr. Stark. The man who had given him everything. Who took Peter in and cared for him like his own son. Built him a suit to help keep him safe, 'because I know you won't listen if I tell you to stop,' Tony had said to him back then. Despite the fact this one was more recent, he still felt nothing. He just wanted to feel something again. Anything.
He looked up toward the sky, his eyes closed for a moment as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he spotted a large snowflake dancing across the sky and falling toward him. It reminded him of how his aunt would dance around the kitchen when she was cooking for them, which always ended in her inevitably getting too into the song and the food ending up burnt. He learned to add their favourite Thai place on speed dial pretty quickly.
Aunt May... His eyes didn't leave the flake for a minute as he ripped off his glove and held his hand out. It fell into his palm, the cold mirroring the numbness he felt inside, and watched as it melted. He clenched his fist and clutched his hand close to his heart. May had been the most recent person he lost. One for which he took full blame. If she hadn't known about Spider-Man, if she hadn't gone with him that day, maybe she would still be here. Happy said it himself when he saw him at her grave. It was because of Spider-Man that she was dead.
It was because of him.
Finally, he felt something. He felt bile creep up his throat as he started to hyperventilate. He felt as though his chest was caving in. All he wanted to do was scream but he couldn't feel his voice. As though it had been taken from him, just like all the other people in his life. Just ephemeral snowflakes falling toward the ground of the ever-busy New York streets. For a brief moment, he considered falling himself, when he heard the sound of thrusters coming behind him.
He swallowed thickly as a new voice spoke, a subtle southern accent laced in it despite the obvious voice modifier, "Spidey? You doin' okay?" Peter sighed as he put his glove back on, but made no move to turn toward the newcomer.
Iron-Lad, the new hero called himself. Homage to his mentor, he had told the press. Peter found it funny since he never recalled meeting anyone who could fit that description. It made him spiral back then, wondering if maybe he wasn't all that special to Tony. That the man had several 'Interns' that he had ready to help. As though some sick kind of reserve for the real heroes.
With a bit of investigation, he was able to waylay his fears. It didn't take him long to find the person behind the mask. Or helmet in this case.
Tony had once called him 'Potato Gun Boy' in a story he told Peter, but his real name was Harley Keener. Sure, Peter may have been more skilled now at tracking people down, but it really hadn't taken much to find out. The boy had made no effort to hide his relationship with Tony, even if it wasn't a very close one. Even with a little sleuthing, someone could figure it out. It had been one of the earliest lessons Peter had learned when he was starting the first time, before the spell, and it was a mistake he wouldn't make again. So despite the other boy's constant efforts to get to know Spider-Man, Peter pushed him away.
Just like he stayed silent now, staring out at the city line.
"Beautiful, ain't it?" Iron-Lad continued, landing on the roof and walking up to stand near the other hero. "Yet barely any of them look up to even notice," he notes as he looks down at the New Yorkers going about their business.
Peter frowned and glanced over at the armour before looking away. Despite the fact the design and colours were different, it was still too close to Iron Man's suits for Peter's comfort, "Why should they? It just melts as soon as it touches the ground, anyway," the web-slinger mumbled.
"Ah, so he does speak," Iron-Lad teased, and Peter could somehow hear his smirk, "If you aren't here for the view, then why have you been sitting here so long?" he continued, his voice far softer this time.
Peter felt himself tense for a moment, before letting out a heartless laugh, "You been stalking me Iron boy?"
Peter could see out of his periphery as the other boy sat down beside him, "don't pretend you don't know it's Iron-LAD, Spidey... but seriously, what's goin' on with you? Everything alright?"
Peter gave a slight shrug, his shoulders feeling as heavy as his eyes were... a few minutes ago? A few hours? He lost track.
"Never better, Tin-Lad," he snarked, but despite the wrong name Harley just kept his gaze on him, so he added, "Just taking it easy tonight. After all, I don't want to show you up so soon after your big debut."
This earned a laugh from the other boy as he nudged Peter's shoulder softly, not hearing the sharp breath Peter took in at the contact.
"Well played, Arachnikid." Peter snorted at the nickname as Harley continued, "But we both know there is something else... I know you don't want to talk to me, or whatever... but sometimes it's good to share. Besides, it's not like either of us knows who the other is. No harm in sharin' between a couple of anonymous heroes, right?"
If only Harley knew, but that was his mistake to make. He'd learned the hard way just like Peter did. He had a point though. Given Peter's new outlook on life, he hadn't put much effort into making new friends. Too scared to get close to anyone and put them in danger. Perhaps there was a benefit in two people with secret identities sharing, even if Peter knew who was really under the helmet.
"You know, every snowflake is different. Every one of them is unique," he said instead.
Harley snorted beside him, "Yeah, I think I heard that before. Not that we got much snow where I'm from, to begin with."
"Yet most people don't even get to see the differences, because they melt so fast. They fade before anyone can truly appreciate their beauty," Peter continued, his gaze once more watching the snowfall.
Harley nodded, "I suppose you have a point... but that doesn't make them any less special. Any less beautiful, even if it's just ephemeral," he answered with a shrug of his own.
Peter turned to look at him then, taking in the purple and silver armour sitting beside him, a frown on his face that Harley couldn't see through his mask, "But why does it matter, then? If no one notices? If they just fade away before anyone has the chance to truly see them..."
Harley gave a hum as he seemed to think this over, before looking back at Spider-Man- no, at Peter. As though glimpsing right through the mask, "Maybe not everyone gets to see the beauty of each snowflake... but that doesn't mean no one does. I mean, we are right now."
Peter's eye widened as he raised a brow in confusion, and Harley let out a little laugh as his mask must have done the same, "Just because someone might miss the beauty in something, it doesn't make it any less beautiful. That's kinda the point of ephemeral beauty, ain't it? Despite only lasting for the briefest moment in time it's able to make someone feel something. I think that's kinda magical. The evanescence of it all."
Peter felt his mouth tug in the smallest of smiles as his eyes softened. "I like that answer. You're a pretty smart guy, Iron-Lad."
Harley let out a breathy laugh, and for the second time that night, Peter felt something. This time, it was something he hadn't felt in a while. A soft, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You ain't so bad yourself Spidey. Now that you're talking to me."
Peter looked down and could feel his cheeks redden, "Sorry about that. I-" he pauses, swallowing thickly as he wonders if he may be saying too much.
Fuck it he thinks as he continues, "I've lost a lot of people in my life lately. So it's been hard letting anyone else in..."
Admitting it for the first time out loud, he felt a bit of pressure off his chest as Iron-Lad tilted his head at him, and again Peter felt maskless before the other boy.
"Maybe that's why I'm here?" Harley spoke softly, and Peter's eyes went wide as saucers, "It seems we both lost a lot recently. Maybe we were meant to find each other, so we could help each other through it, ya know?" he finished, refusing to meet Peter's gaze.
Peter looked over at the other boy, knowing that despite the armour he wore on the outside, inside they were so alike. Both were just sad, lonely kids who wanted to find their place in the world. To live up to the impossible burden that they were left with. To find that ephemeral beauty in their lives before it was gone. Before they were gone...
It felt almost surreal, that out of everyone in the world, it would be the boy who could perhaps best understand that kind of pain that had found him. Against all odds, it was Harley who offered Peter a bridge toward his former life that he swore to leave behind with his memory. It felt...
Almost impossible.
He felt a couple of tears escape as he recalled Aunt May's words once more. He stood up, and a genuine smile spread across his face. Iron-Lad glanced up at the movement, Peter simply holding out his arm to help the other boy up.
"I think you might be right, Iron-Lad. After all, sometimes life just finds a way."