Tap. Tap. Tap.
Peter looked up from his desk, where a half-finished algebra worksheet sat under his pencil. The light rapping at his window wasn't unusual but not anymore. But when he turned and saw the familiar red-and-blue shape clinging upside-down to the glass, his expression immediately shifted from mild annoyance to genuine worry.
He rushed over, unlatching the window. "Nathan? Dude, are you okay? You never came back to school!"
Nathan crawled in, drenched from the misty night air, and pulled off his mask. His hair was wild, his face a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. "So," he began, collapsing onto Peter's bed, "I went to the pier to fight the water dude. Got my ass kicked by, like, an actual water person."
Peter blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah, like, living water. He hit like a tsunami in jeans. I was drowning on land." Nathan grinned faintly. "But then Human Torch showed up. Saved me. Then I passed out."
Peter's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."
"Nope." Nathan stretched his arms behind his head. "Woke up in the freakin' Baxter Building."
Peter stared. "THE Fantastic Four Baxter Building?"
Nathan nodded, eyes gleaming with remembered awe. "Dude. They were so cool. Johnny Storm was hilarious. Reed Richards is like a human encyclopedia, and Invisible Woman—"
Peter rolled his eyes, already groaning. "—don't say it."
"She called me cute."
Peter blinked. "Like I'm gonna believe that."
"I swear!" Nathan sat up. "I was leaving, and she said, 'He really is a cute kid.' I heard it."
Peter studied him with narrowed eyes for a moment. "Oh my God," he whispered. "She really did."
"Told you!" Nathan beamed, then sagged back against the mattress. "I even met Reed. That guy is like if Einstein was a yoga instructor made of rubber."
"You're the luckiest bastard alive." Peter said it with a smirk, but there was no venom but only amusement. He shoved Nathan's shoulder, and the two burst into easy laughter.
"Oh, hey," Peter said as the giggles subsided. "Did you see the news?"
Nathan shook his head. "What news?"
Peter spun his laptop around and clicked on a paused video. "Iron Man got jumped. By some dude in a red Iron Man knock-off suit."
The video began playing. The screen filled with images of a battle in a race track Iron Man trading punches and repulsor blasts with a hulking red-suited opponent. The other armor was bulkier, cruder but it moved fast and hit hard. A red star gleamed from its chest.
Nathan tilted his head. "Okay… his suit's cool, but Iron Man is cooler. And better looking."
Peter nodded in agreement. "Facts."
Nathan stood, slipping his mask back on. "Anyway, I should head home. Gotta rest. Reed wants to study my DNA tomorrow."
Peter gave him a quick thumbs-up. "Oh, Harry said we're going to the Stark Expo over spring break."
Nathan's eyes lit up. "Seriously?"
Peter nodded. "Get hyped."
Nathan gave Peter a two-finger gun. "Later, Nerd."
"Stay cute, Bug-Boy," Peter shot back with a grin.
Nathan vanished out the window in a blur of motion. Peter stood there for a moment, watching the stars.
Then, to the mirror: "I'm still cuter than Nathan anyway."
Nathan landed softly on his windowsill and slipped inside his bedroom. He stripped off the suit, stashing it in the hidden compartment of his closet. A hot shower washed away the dirt and soreness of the night, but not the lingering tension in his chest.
He barely had time to dry his hair when a knock came at the front door.
Frowning, he headed downstairs. When he opened it, his breath caught.
Captain George Stacy stood on the porch, rain slicking his shoulders. His face was solemn. Behind his badge and uniform, something heavy weighed on his soul.
"Hey," the man said gently. "Are you Nathan Drake?"
Nathan nodded slowly. "Yeah… is something wrong, Captain?"
Stacy looked down for a moment, then met Nathan's eyes. "I'm sorry to say this, son… but your parents Richard and Cassandra Drake were in a plane crash this morning."
Nathan stopped breathing.
Stacy's voice was like a hammer. "There were no survivors."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Nathan's mouth moved, but no sound came. He reached for something anything but the world had already tilted.
"I'm so sorry," Stacy repeated softly, then stepped away.
Nathan closed the door, trembling. His hand fell to the doorknob, and his knees gave out. He slid down, back against the door, as the first tears fell.
He didn't scream. He didn't shout.
He whispered.
"Damn you both… You died so you wouldn't have to be parents."
The night swallowed the rest.
One Week Later
Rain tapped gently on the rows of umbrellas as the small funeral service dispersed. Nathan stood motionless in his black suit, shoulders stiff, eyes dry. He hadn't cried since that night.
He just stood there. Looking.
Richard and Cassandra Drake. Side by side in the ground.
Peter and Harry approached quietly. Peter was the first to hug him. Nathan returned it without a word. Then Harry. Then—
"Uncle Ben?" Nathan whispered in surprise.
Ben Parker wrapped him in a warm, steady hug. "Richard was my war buddy. And I'm your godfather. I'm here, Nathan."
Nathan tried to smile. "Thanks… Uncle Ben."
Aunt May was next. Her arms were thinner than he remembered, but her hug was still firm. "They were good people, Nathan. I'm so sorry."
"Thanks, Aunt May."
They left in time. Nathan remained.
The graves didn't speak. But they haunted.
Two Days Later
The rain was relentless.
Nathan stood before the headstones again, hoodie soaked, shoes deep in wet earth. His eyes never left the stone.
RICHARD & CASSANDRA DRAKE
Beloved Parents. Gone Too Soon.
"Beloved," he muttered bitterly. "By who?"
The words felt like lies.
"They left me. With strangers. With questions." His voice cracked. "Where were you when I needed you?"
His knees hit the grass, fists clenched.
"All those birthdays. Every scraped knee. Every time I needed someone."
He shook. "You weren't there."
Then, like a dam breaking: "Maybe you didn't want to be."
He gasped after the words left him, as if trying to take them back.
But there was no one to hear. Just the rain. And—
"No one ever asks to carry the weight of others."
Nathan turned, startled.
A man stood behind him. Broad-shouldered. Blond. Weathered, but not old. His presence was like a lighthouse in fog.
Nathan blinked. "Who—?"
"I was just passing through," the man said. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop."
Nathan looked away. "Ever scream at a headstone?"
The man nodded. "Once or twice."
"Doesn't change anything," Nathan muttered.
"No," the man said. "But it changes you."
Nathan looked at him again. The man didn't move closer, but his voice filled the space like a warm fire.
"They weren't who I thought they were," Nathan said. "And now I don't know who I'm supposed to be."
"You feel like you're carrying something they should've carried," the man said.
Nathan nodded.
"But you're still standing," the man said. "Still asking the right questions. That means something."
After a moment, Nathan asked, quietly: "Do you think people like them would be proud of me?"
The man gave him a long look. "I don't know who they were. But I know what kind of person it takes to ask that question."
Nathan stood slowly, the weight in his chest shifting.
"You give advice to kids in graveyards often?" he asked.
"Only the ones who need it," the man said, with a small smile.
Nathan watched as the man turned to go.
"Wait," he called out. "What's your name?"
The man paused. For a moment, the clouds shifted, revealing a sliver of fading sunlight.
He turned his head and gave a quiet, knowing smile.
"Steve."
Then he walked into the rain.
Nathan stood in the silence that followed. But now it wasn't empty. It was waiting.
He looked down at his phone.
ALERT: BANK ROBBERY IN PROGRESS – MIDTOWN.
He stared at the graves. Memories flickered of his mom telling bedtime stories, his dad giving awkward but heartfelt advice during catch in the yard.
They weren't perfect.
But they had tried.
And now… it was his turn.
"I can't let this bitterness define me," he whispered. "You both did your best and you tried to help people in your own way. And now, this is my way of helping. Goodbye Mom and Dad."
He turned. Walked away from the graves.
The wind blew softly behind him.
And Nathan Drake aka Spider-Man answered the call.