Work Text:
It's been a while since the spell that made them all forget Peter. He doesn't remember how long, but his… Ned and MJ had both started MIT, some days when patrol gets quiet he sits on a roof nearby and watches them leave school. They're still close, they seem like they're having fun. It's good. It is.
Peter still hasn't changed his lock screen, a picture of the three of them, except now it's only the two of them. He hasn't seen a picture of him in a while now, the only way he can remember himself looking is how he looks now. His clothes are ragged, his hair is growing past his ears, and his eyes have dark circles over his hollow cheeks. The spell erased everything, every birthday, every award, all the photos Aunt May kept hung on her wall. He knew, he'd checked before her stuff got taken away since she's…
They'd actually thought he was a robber when they'd seen him grabbing what he could before it got taken. They'd taken everything, after all, she had no living relatives. Aunt May had no nephew… And they were right, he wasn't that kid she'd hugged and kissed, that kid who'd watched her…
Peter looks at the lockscreen again, a picture of his former trio without him. The pictures a little off now, like there's something missing. Not enough to notice apparently, but if you know where to look you see the gap. No one else will notice.
He opened his Twitter, people were still on about the masked menace of Spiderman. Apparently the spell hadn't included saving his reputation. People still blamed him for the death of Mysterio. Whatever, he wasn't doing this for the people's appreciation. It was the right thing to do, Spiderman does the right thing all the time. No matter how much it hurts.
Peter stands up and pulls himself out of his spiral. Crime waits for no man.
Back to work.