May used to say that everything happened for a reason. Yeah, well, the reason Peter's life sucked right now? That was all him. It was his fault for asking Doctor Strange to mess with the universe in the first place. His fault the spell went wrong, that the villains showed up, that everything fell apart. And it was his fault he was so miserable sitting all alone in a coffee shop trying to catch a glimpse of MJ through a window, like some stalker.

She looked happy, or at least okay. That should've been enough. It wasn't.

The sound of off-key humming brought him back to his senses. He wasn't completely alone.

There was this girl that sat next to him almost every week at the bar table by the window. To be fair, she was there first. It was Peter that sat next to her. Every week, they'd both be at the shop around the same time. She'd be sketching in her notebook — sometimes having a croissant and sometimes a latte. Peter's thing was that he'd always stare longingly at MJ.

Whenever they talked, she did most of the talking. She'd picked up on Peter's feelings for MJ, not that he was being at all subtle. Sometimes she asked intrusive questions about MJ. Peter would have to stammer some stupid lies he could tell she didn't believe, but she never pressured him.

Peter didn't even know her name — but now that he lived alone in a crappy apartment with no friends, no family, and no one who remembered who he was... This? This was the closest thing he had to having human interaction.

The guys whose butts he kicked didn't really count.

"Why don't you try to talk to her?" The girl asked once, catching Peter off guard.

"Talk to her?" Peter echoed.

He had talked to MJ.

In his head, many times.

It always went like this: Hi, I'm Peter, your ex-boyfriend. Well, we didn't actually break up — you just forgot me because I was an idiot and messed with the multiverse. Long story. Anyway, want to be boyfriend and girlfriend again?

At that point, MJ would punch him in the face and call security. The police would come, try to run his name in their system, and find nothing. No ID, no school records, not even a birth certificate. Then, Peter would sit in a jail cell making best friends with a rat. Hey, Rat Ned. Haven't seen you in a while. Oh, you're just here for the stale bread. That's cool, I'm kinda busy right now anyway. Same time next Tuesday?

"...than just sitting here and staring." The girl finished.

Peter blinked. He hadn't heard a single thing she'd said, but he didn't need to.

"I don't think that's a good idea." He shook his head.

The girl shrugged, "Fair enough."

Peter turned to her in surprise, "That's it?"

"I mean, what else can I say?" she said, casually, "Besides, it's not like I'm some dating expert."

A part of Peter's heart sank, but it wasn't her fault. He just... missed having people that cared about him. May would've nagged him to the ends of the earth. Ned would've been the best wingman—he already had, once.

They quietly fell back into their routine.

Peter didn't really know what else to say. And she was right—he could just go talk to MJ. Pretend it was their first time meeting. Build a relationship back from the ground up. He just couldn't bear to.

Peter wasn't just a regular guy. He was Spiderman before he was Peter Parker. And there was always going to be someone trying to hurt him, to dig up his identity, to go after the people he loved. If he were to start that relationship just to lose it again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to pick himself back up, and keep being good — and the world needed good people now more than ever. After Thanos and the blip. After it had lost Mr. Stark.

The Avengers may have disbanded, but Peter wasn't going to stop.

He was, (and always would be), the city's protector.

Talk about timing, but right then, Peter's Spidey sense jolted him like a sudden electric shock. He whipped his head toward the source of the tingle, his body tensed and his heart pounding in his chest. But Suhani's coffee was perfectly intact, unlike the first time they'd met.

He frowned. That was weird. His eyes searched for danger. He couldn't spot any sneak attacks. Was there some hidden threat? It didn't seem like it.

The girl was just on her Nintendo, eyes glued to the screen. Peter looked around, wondering if maybe the threat was coming from a different direction. Outside was as peaceful as could be, too. No bus about to crash into their window, no architectural malfunctions, no armed robberies, and no aliens. Just a person in drag walking their dog and a woman with a stroller.

And yet, his instincts hollered. That had never happened before — his spidey senses had never been wrong. So what the hell was going on?

Peter turned his attention back to the girl. She didn't look scared. Or in pain. Maybe a bit disgruntled. He squinted. Maybe he'd missed something. His gaze drifted from her expression to her game console, pausing at her collarbone.

"Have you always had that?" He asked before he could stop himself.

The tattoo rested just above her collarbone, peeking out through the neckline of her shirt. It was a sentence in another language. Peter spotted a delta symbol amidst the foreign alphabet. Was it Latin? Maybe Greek?

Peter's curiosity prickled.

The girl snapped her head to him. Her face went blank. "Huh?"

Peter hesitantly pointed to her collarbone, saying, "That tattoo."

Her gaze shifted down. Her eyes widened, and the DS clattered against the table as her hands flew to her skin. That was not the reaction he'd expected. She stayed like that for a few seconds. What, was it something of a drunk accident she couldn't remember? But she didn't seem like the type to do that.

"Oh, this?" She said, her voice a couple times higher than usual. She laughed uncomfortably, "I've had it a while."

Their eyes met, and there was a moment of silence.

"Oh." Peter said. Had he said something wrong? Why was she reacting like that?

The girl's hands flew across the table and flung all of her things into her tote bag. "I should go. I have class—no, I mean work. Chores. Gotta do chores. I'm so late to chores." She laughed awkwardly again.

Peter winced. He'd made her uncomfortable, hadn't he?

"I—I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked..."

He stared at the tabletop, willing it to swallow him. Why had he opened his mouth? Of course she was weirded out.

She shook her head too quickly. "No, no. It's cool. You're cool. Just, y'know. Laundry."

And then she was gone, the only indication being the chiming of the bells at the door. Peter glanced back at the table. Her cup still sat there, half-finished. She never left her coffee behind.

So much for his one weekly human interaction.

QUIT GAME... ? ☹️

YOU DON'T REALLY WANT TO DO THAT, DO YOU?

➤ ʏᴇꜱ         ɴᴏ

Her mom was going to kill her.

A tattoo? Suhani might be a legal adult, but there was no way her mom would let that pass!

Suhani grimaced as she stared at it in the mirror. Since when did things that happened in the game transfer over to her body in the real world? And what did those words even say?

Suhani took a photo of the tattoo and ran translate on the image. The bond is there, it cannot be broken. Huh. What was that supposed to mean? It just sounded like some best friends tattoo. Maybe she should tell Chai to get it too... Wait, that didn't sound like a bad idea. If Suhani told her parents that she and Chai did it together, it'd be much safer. Her and Chai had been best friends since elementary school, after all.

But before that, how was she supposed to explain to Chai how she'd gotten this tattoo? If anything, Chai'd kill her first for getting one without consulting her.

But maybe this could be an opportunity.

Ever since the blipped had come back, adjusting was hard for everyone who'd moved on. In Suhani's family, she'd been the only one blipped. In Chai's, it had been her and her dad. The world had lived five years without them—and finding their place again was hard.

Suhani had it relatively easy. Her parents were still together, although they'd sold their condo and moved to a smaller apartment in Manhattan. In fact, when Suhani came back, she almost couldn't recognise her parents anymore.

Time had gifted them with wrinkles and greyer hair, but it wasn't their appearance that had shocked her. It was their personalities.

Her dad, though calm, once had expectations from her to be a doctor like him and her mother. The man who once had an endless supply of 'How to be a good daughter' lectures ready to spout at any moment had become quiet. Careful with his words. He didn't snap when she left the lights on or when she made noodles at midnight. He didn't even put up a fight when Suhani said she was applying to animation schools.

Her mom had been strict her entire life . Rules were sacred. Curfews were law. No sleepovers. No shorts above the knee. No YouTube until homework was done. Now She brought Suhani tea while she drew. She laughed when Suhani missed curfew by twenty minutes and said, "Just get home safe."

The blip had pressed pause on her life and fast-forwarded everyone else's.

Sometimes, she wished they'd just yell at her again. Ground her for something. It would've made this all feel more normal — like she was still their daughter, not some fragile souvenir they'd gotten back after years of grieving.

So maybe the tattoo would help. Maybe it would be the thing that broke the spell.

Maybe she'd see that flash of her mother again. The one who used to freak out if Suhani even suggested dyeing her hair.

Suhani headed for the kitchen, heart thudding.

Her mom was at the counter, blending chutney from spices and coconut. The smell was delicious and sharp. Suhani hovered by the counter.

"Mom?" she said softly.

"Hmm?" Her mom glanced over. "What is it?"

Here goes nothing. Suhani thought. "Yeah. I just... have to show you something."

Her mom turned fully to face her, switching the blender off so she could hear. "What is it?"

See? What happened to just screaming over the noise? Or telling her to come by later when she wasn't busy?

Viewing this as her last attempt to get her mom back to normal, Suhani walked closer, tugged down the neck of her tee, and turned slightly so her collarbone faced the light.

Her mom blinked. Took a step closer. Her mom's eyes furrowed — not with anger, but curiosity. This was it. The moment of truth.

Suhani braced herself.

And then—

"Oh," her mom said, unfazed. "That's new."

"That's permanent ," Suhani said. "It's not fake. It's a real tattoo."

Her mom nodded slowly. "What does it say?"

Okay, this wasn't how she'd wanted it to go at all. "...A bond that can't be broken."

Her mother came close to her and put her hands on either side of Suhani's face. Her eyes were gazing with a tenderness Suhani hadn't been prepared to see. "Oh, mera baccha ."

She pulled Suhani in for a hug. "That's beautiful. Really."

Suhani felt foreign in her own body. Like, she wasn't really there. Someone else was in her place and she was just watching. Her hand brushed her mother's arm in partial reciprocation, but it wasn't really returning the hug.

Her mother pulled away and asked quietly, "Did you get it... because of the Blip? Because you lost five years with your family?"

Like that moment couldn't get any more awkward. Suhani gulped, pushing her discomfort away to nod. "Aren't you mad I got a tattoo?"

Her mother smiled at her question — soft, not mocking. "Mad? No. How could I be?"

"This really isn't some attempt at sarcasm?" Suhani asked again, "You're not going to ground me?"

Her mom laughed at that. "Ground you? Suhani, you're an adult. I will always advise you, but you can make your own decisions."

Her stomach dropped. Were they always planning to just let her loose like that once she turned eighteen? No, they'd planned every bit of her life out for her. From the academic awards she was supposed to get to where she'd go to college, to what kind of guy she'd marry in the future. That was her parents — strict, overbearing, controlling .

"Since when was I ever allowed to make my own decisions." Suhani said bitterly.

"Suhani." Her mom exhaled. "What's wrong? Why are you upset?"

"I just don't get you. All my life, you've had these expectations from me. And after the blip, its like I don't even matter anymore." She glared. "You don't care if I cause trouble, or ruin my life? 5 years without a daughter that constantly argues must have been great."

Suhani didn't understand herself where all this venom was coming from. It shouldn't be that hard to accept this new version of her parents — they were everything she'd ever wanted.

Then her mom spoke, voice low. "You think we stopped caring about you?"

Suhani didn't have to answer. A thick silence stretched between them. The only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the kitchen clock and Suhani's own uneven breath.

Her mother's expression shifted — not angry, and not hurt exactly, but... It was more sorrowful than that. It was an expression Suhani hadn't seen on her mother before. "Suhani, the five years we spent without you were the worst years of our life."

"You moved on," Suhani choked up. "You sold the house. You stopped fighting. You became these — these weird , understanding people. Like all that time without me was the solution all along. Like you're better people without me in your life."

Instantly, Suhani felt that she'd said something wrong. Her mother's eyebrows twisted, her expression somehow heavier and sadder.

"No," her mom said. Her voice cracked. "It's who we became because we lost you."

She stepped closer, the pain quiet but solid in her words. "For five years, every photo, every corner of your room, even the empty chair at the dinner table—it reminded us of you. And it hurt. We couldn't stay the people we were. Holding on to that grief just... broke us."

Suhani's throat ached. "But I came back to strangers."

"Oh, darling, no." Her mom grabbed her hand and held it tight. Her palm was warm and trembling. Tears pricked at Suhani's eyes.

"Five years is a long time, Suhu." Suhani hadn't heard that nickname since she was a little girl. "We changed to become better for you. We already lost you once. We didn't want to lose you again because of our own selfishness," her mom said firmly. "We never stopped loving you, and we never will."

Suhani didn't know how to respond. Everything in her ached to believe it.

Some part of her still screamed that this wasn't real. That it couldn't be this easy. Their love had always felt like pressure, and now that it didn't, she didn't know how to handle it.

She couldn't take it anymore — Suhani burst into tears. Ugly, shaking, snotty tears. And her mom held her through all of it, not saying a word. Just staying close. Just staying with her.

When her sobs eventually slowed to uneven breaths, Suhani's mom gently rubbed her back and murmured, "I can still ground you, if that makes you feel better."

Suhani let out a watery laugh through her stuffy nose. "No Nintendo for a week?"

"Two weeks," her mom said with mock severity. "And no dessert."

Suhani sniffled. "Okay, that's taking it too far."

Her mom laughed, the sound light and familiar, and gently tucked a strand of hair behind Suhani's ear.

And just like that — it felt like she'd gotten back her mom.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ✸꙳⋆

a little bts; i was originally gonna do a third part to this chapter bc this felt kinda slow/almost fillery(?) but it wasnt working out and i broke my head for weeks and then i talked to my love vivi and realised wait it makes more sense if i just... add the scene in the next chapter. so. there we go folks ive been accidentally holding out on you.

anyway shoutout to vivi go read her fics <3

p.s. im gonna turn the comic image below into a comic gif soon so keep a lookout for it 👀

esme