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The Stacy household was quiet when we arrived. Too quiet. The kind of silence that felt heavy after the day we'd had.
I tried to sleep on the Stacy's couch, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the car flipping. Heard May's screams. Saw Uncle Ben's blood. My phone was clutched in my hand, volume turned all the way up, checking it every few minutes to make sure I hadn't missed any calls.
Around 2 AM, I gave up. My hands were still shaking. My stomach hurt. I went to the kitchen for water, hoping it would help.
Gwen was already there, helping herself to instant ramen. When she saw me catch her mid-slurp, her face flushed crimson and she started coughing.
"Easy," I said, crossing the room. I patted her back gently until she caught her breath.
We ended up on the couch together, Gwen's ramen forgotten on the coffee table. The apartment was dark except for the light from the kitchen. Outside, New York was quieter than usual. Like the whole city was holding its breath.
For a while, neither of us spoke. Gwen just sat close, her shoulder pressed against mine, her hand finding mine and holding on.
"Can't sleep?" she finally asked.
I shook my head. "Every time I try, I just... I see it. The hospital. The bandages. I keep thinking about..." I stopped. Started again. "What if that guy in red hadn't shown up? What if nobody had pulled them out?"
"But someone did," Gwen said softly. "They're alive, Peter. They're okay."
"They almost weren't." My voice cracked. "And it's because... I should've answered. I should've just picked up the phone and told them I was fine and..."
"Then what?" Gwen interrupted gently. "You would've told them you were fine, and they would've asked where you were, and you would've had to lie or tell them you were running toward the alien invasion. Either way, they would've come looking for you."
I hadn't thought of that. I stared at our joined hands.
"Parents worry," Gwen continued. "Even when you do everything right. My dad's a cop. You know how many times my mom freaks out when he's late coming home? It's not your fault they love you enough to be scared."
I was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know if I can do it again."
"Do what?"
"The hero thing. Going out there. Fighting. I thought... I thought it was the right thing, you know? Help people. Save lives. But what's the point if I can't even keep my own family safe?"
Gwen turned to face me more directly, her hand still holding mine. "Don't say that. You saved people, Peter. You saved hundreds. They'll have their families and futures because of you."
I was silent.
"I saw you," Gwen continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "When you ran out. When you chose to help instead of hiding. Harry gave you his jacket and beanie because he knew you'd need them. Because he knew you wouldn't run. And I was..." She stopped, swallowing hard. "I was terrified you wouldn't come back. But I wasn't surprised. Because that's who you are."
"Maybe that's the problem."
"It's not a problem. It's..." She struggled for the right words. "Heroes can't save everyone. I know that sounds bad, but it's true. But they save who they can. And you did. You saved hundreds, Peter. It's all over the net. They're calling you Spider-Man."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that it didn't feel heroic.
But Gwen kept talking, filling the silence with stories about her little brothers, about her dad's cases, about anything that might distract me from the guilt. Her voice was soft and steady, and eventually, I found myself responding. Small comments at first, then longer observations.
Eventually, exhaustion won. My eyes were too heavy to keep open. Gwen's voice had become a comfortable murmur. My head drifted to her shoulder, and she shifted to make me more comfortable, her hand still holding mine.
"Thanks," I mumbled, half-asleep. "For being here."
"Always," she whispered back.
We fell asleep like that. My head on Gwen's shoulder, her hand still holding mine, our other arms wrapped around each other for comfort. Two fifteen-year-olds who'd seen too much, taking refuge in each other's presence.
That's how George and Helen Stacy found us the next morning.
"Aww, they're so cute," Helen whispered, pulling out her phone. "Let me take a picture."
George frowned. "Helen, they're still kids, you know."
"Don't be such a prude." Helen was already on her third photo. "Look how adorable they are."
The shutter sounds woke us. Gwen and I blinked groggily, saw the camera, and realized our position. Both of us turned bright red.
"Mom!" Gwen scrambled to sit up properly.
I tried to disappear into the couch.
Gwen's younger brother, Philip, appeared in the doorway. "Are you Gwen's boyfriend now?"
"Philip!" Gwen's face somehow turned even redder.
Breakfast was an exercise in mortification. Philip kept asking me invasive questions. Helen showed us the photos she'd taken. George maintained a stoic expression that somehow conveyed both amusement and paternal concern.
Harry arrived around 10 AM. Norman was still dealing with yesterday's aftermath, coordinating Oscorp's contribution to the city's rebuilding efforts.
We retreated to Gwen's room under the guise of "studying." Philip tried to follow until Gwen physically slammed the door.
"So," Harry said once we were alone, "what's the plan?"
"Plan for what?" I asked.
"For you." Harry gestured at me. "You've got powers, man. Real, actual superpowers. We saw what you did yesterday. What you can do."
"I'm not doing anything," I said. "I'm just going to..."
"Be normal?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Peter, you lifted a car. You dodged bullets. You have spider powers. There's no going back to normal."
"Then I'll just... I'll hide them. I won't use them. I'll pretend they don't exist."
"You can't." Harry's voice was matter-of-fact. "We both know you can't. Because next time there's trouble, you're going to help. It's who you are."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died. Because Harry was right. I'd already proven it. The second I'd heard about the invasion, I'd run toward it. Not away. Even knowing the danger. Even knowing my family would worry.
"I don't want to be that person," I said quietly. "I don't want to be the guy who chooses strangers over his family."
"You won't, Peter," Gwen said.
"So here's what we do," Harry continued, his voice softer now, less pushy. "We test your powers properly. Figure out exactly what you can do. And we get you a proper suit. Not my old jacket and a torn beanie. Something that might actually keep you safe if... when... you decide to go out again."
"A suit?" My voice cracked slightly.
"You remember that sleek thing you had during the battle?" Gwen asked. "The red and blue one with the AI you told me about?"
I nodded. The memory was fuzzy, but the suit had been incredible. And then it had vanished when the battle ended, leaving me in my makeshift costume.
"We can build something," Harry said. "I can get materials from Oscorp. Fabric that's cut-resistant, maybe some body armor inserts. Nothing crazy, just enough to keep you safe."
"And the webs," Gwen added. "You were shooting webs, right? We need to figure out the formula, make it reproducible. Turn it into something you can reload instead of..." She gestured vaguely. "Whatever you were doing before."
I wanted to say no. Wanted to insist I was done being a hero.
But looking at my friends, at the determination in their eyes, at their willingness to help despite everything, I felt something shift. Not acceptance, exactly. More like... acknowledgment. Of what I was. What I could do.
"Just as a backup," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just in case. I'm not... I'm not going looking for trouble. But if something happens..."
"Okay," I said quietly. "But just as a backup. Just in case."
"Sure," Harry said, grinning. "Just in case."
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