man at the garden — Kendrick Lamar

Fall always took forever in New York. Or at least, that's what Peter thought. Most other places saw the seasons begin to change in September — leaves yellowing, the air getting just a touch cooler until dropping drastically. It all seemed to happen for everyone rather quickly, except in New York. However, like clockwork, when October arrived, so did everything else all at once.

The crispness of the air filled Peter's nostrils around October the second, and after a three-day stretch of rain, he began to see more leaves on the ground than on the trees. Said trees began to burst forth with their impressive oranges and reds and yellows, coloring the concrete jungle with lush strokes. It was his absolute favorite time of year.

And this year was miserable. The staring hardly died down over the school year, even if the whispers lessened. Peter supposed that everyone had been suspecting he would leap out of his desk and web everybody up, or murder someone else (even though he'd never done it in the first place), or crawl all over the walls and ceilings in the school. And when he didn't, when he behaved as he always had at school (awkward, hard-working and polite), it dialed back the interest a little.

But only a little. He was still known everywhere he went. Even if they weren't talking about him, their eyes bore holes into all sides of his body, making him uncomfortable in his own skin. And it wasn't even just in school either. It was truly everywhere he went.

Lila insisted on taking him to different parks on their weekends, just to walk and reconnect with grass every once in a while. She made him feel the most normal, the most content, even after several months of unwanted attention. She would bring fresh baked goods and prepared foods with her, and the two would find secluded spaces to eat and enjoy each other in peace. Since Lila wasn't at the flower shop very often anymore, she'd taken to FaceTiming her cousin Claire, who would teach Lila how to bake all the things she ate when she'd visited Paris. Peter was her biggest test subject on those days.

And just when those moments started to make him forget about everything that had transpired in the summer, some random person would always stand over their picnic and ask to talk to Peter, or would shout as they passed some insult or other to Spider Man. He didn't understand how people could hold onto things for so long, especially as more and more about Mysterio came to light. Over the last month and a half, it had been announced in several news outlets that Mysterio had been involved with the attack, not just fighting off drones. Peter wished the details would come to light a lot faster, for he felt like that would at least get half of New York off of his back.

He had J. Jonah Jameson to thank for that, mostly. It seemed he made it his personal mission to paint Peter as a menace to society, and a danger to the people. His drastic, doom-and-gloom outlook had soared in popularity since exposing Peter's identity, and it just egged on the vitriol. He was grateful his friends hadn't been covered much on that show at all, they all dealt with enough.

As if all of this wasn't stressful enough, there was still active planning for Peter's future. His transcripts, essays, grades and all were picture perfect. May had cried several tears seeing all his paperwork in front of her, both proud of all the accomplishments he'd had in school and also in disbelief that Peter was getting ready to leave her.

"It's only Boston, May," Peter assured her after he'd submitted his final application. "It's a three-hour train ride up the coast, you'll love it."

"Yeah, well, I was willing to accept Yonkers as far enough away. This is like a whole other country." Peter couldn't help but smile and hug his aunt when she asked.

Little did he know that Yonkers was even further than he should have hoped. The trail of disappointment started on a Saturday evening. Peter had just changed into his pajamas after seeing Lila for an afternoon, and had sat down to work on a history essay when May burst through the door. She frantically waved a letter in her hand, panting. "First one's here!"

They sat down together and Peter hastily opened the envelope. He didn't get much further past the return address and the date when he saw the words We regret to inform you written at the top. May slapped the paper in frustration, and Peter merely shrugged.

"It's okay," he said, remaining positive, "It's just a backup school."

Two weeks later, during a rainy Halloween weekend, another letter came in. Peter was too nervous to read it himself, so he asked May to do it for him. She sat down at the table, and Peter paced while she read. One heavy sigh later, May threw the letter down on the table and looked to her nephew. "No?" He asked, and she shook her head.

A few days after Thanksgiving came the last one. Sunday morning, May went down to check the mail while Peter ate a bowl of cereal. Not five minutes later, she raced back in with his letter. Peter got so excited, he startled the DUM-E robot that lived in Happy's apartment into knocking over the Lego Death Star that was on the table. Sending a quick apology to the robot, Peter grabbed the letter and raced around the apartment to get dressed.

He hastily texted Lila, who said she'd gotten her letter just last night. She was meeting Ned and MJ at the donut shop MJ worked at, for she had a morning shift and begged Lila to keep her company. Peter was just responding to their group text that he was on the way when he grabbed his web-shooters and swung out the door.

That was perhaps the one good thing about people knowing who he was, no one was surprised to see a teenage boy swinging around New York. They all technically knew his identity, so no more changing behind dumpsters in alleyways. He got to the shop in record time, and saw all his friends waiting for him.

Luckily, the shop wasn't busy, so when MJ greeted him at the door, she walked over with him to the back of the shop. Peter saw Lila, and placed a reassuring hand on her back while she leaned closer to him. He took his seat between her and Ned, who was twiddling his thumbs nervously.

Three letters from MIT and one from Northeastern University sat on the counter in front of them. Jittery, was how Peter would describe the energy between the four of them, but also a bit hopeful. This was it, their dream school held the keys to their future, and it was just there on the countertop.

"Ready?" MJ asked.

"Jones," an authoritative voice called. MJ's boss. "I told you to take down the Halloween decorations."

MJ bristled, "Actually, that was Sasha, so..."

"Enough attitude, just do it."

Lila's fists clenched, and when she was sure he was out of earshot, she leaned forward to Michelle. "How do you st-stand that guy?"

"What makes you think I do?" She replied.

Ned was in an intense staring competition with the uneaten donut on the plate in front of him. "I feel like I'm gonna puke," he admitted.

"Well don't," MJ ordered, her face pinched with nerves. "Because he will just make me clean it."

"This is our only shot," Ned exclaimed. "It's here or nowhere."

"H-Has anyone ever told you that you are really good at — at identifying high stakes?" Lila asked, her voice carefully controlled, but Peter knew. He knew she was just as nervous as the rest of them. She'd finally chosen a major — biology — and had only begun to get excited about it. Northeastern University had a promising biology department, with a lot of other classes pertaining to the topic for Lila to choose from and narrow down her field. She figured there would be something for her to focus on to solidify her major. But until then, she was just happy to explore her options.

That is, if the paper in front of her allowed for it. "Okay, you guys ready?" Peter asked, and the three nodded in confirmation. The subsequent tearing of paper was fast and relatively painless, though each sound spiked their nerves. Peter wasn't even sure any of them were breathing as they read their respective letters. Peter felt his stomach sink when he read the college's response.

He waited until he saw his friends tear their eyes away from their letters. MJ was first, and she looked at him with a bit of sorrow, shaking her head and saying a quiet, "No. You?"

It was much heavier this time, saying no right back.

Lila looked up from her paper, lips tightly pressed as she neatly folded up the paper. Her eyes were blazing green as she looked at Peter, and she softly shook her head. Every no around the table felt like a boulder dropping on his stomach. He couldn't escape the guilt in his head and heart, even when Lila reached for his hand, squeezing it in comfort.

Ned was the only person still reading his letter, his voice empty of its usual chipper. "'In light of recent controversy, we are unable to consider your application at this time'."

"This is so not fair," Peter bit out. He didn't have a means to deal with his guilt, and felt it quickly turning to anger and frustration. "I mean, this is so not fair. I didn't do anything wrong!" He couldn't help but commit the looks of his friends' faces to memory. "I mean, you guys definitely didn't do anything wrong."

MJ wasn't angry or bitter when she replied, "Expect disappointment and you will never be disappointed." Though Peter couldn't help but feel like she was hoping for something better anyway.

The door chimed before Lila could reply, the spark of an unnamed emotion turned to confusion when a loud voice suddenly started singing the Beastie Boys. "NO. SLEEP. TIL BOSTOOON!"

Flash Thompson stood in the doorway with a maroon MIT hoodie proudly on display. Peter saw Lila roll her eyes out of the corner of his vision, and could only watch with disappointment as Flash became the first to figure out what happened to the four of them. He seemed to understand based on the resounding silence he received. "You guys didn't get in?"

"No," Lila bit out, annoyed and protective of her friends and what kind of moment this was. The last thing they needed was Flash rubbing it in, and she said further, "Because we're actually f-friends with Spider-Man."

It might have been interpreted as hostile, but the four of them, including Flash, knew that Lila wasn't actively being mean. She needed to get the point across, and luckily Flash was smart enough to understand. He checked his watch, and shook his head. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I better — I better get going... there's a mixer... for new admissions, and... I'm sorry, guys."

At the very least, he genuinely meant it. The four friends watched as Flash left the donut shop, before Lila stood up and caught their attention. She grabbed her letter off the counter and looked right at Peter when she said, "You know what?" Peter felt surprise cut through his guilt when he watched Lila tear her letter to bits. "I r-regret nothing. I mean, after all of this, I can't — I can't find it in me to want to change anything I did."

"Me neither," Ned agreed, ripping into his letter a bit more angrily. Then he paused, "Though, I do need to show this letter to my parents."

"Jones, get back to work!"

"On it," MJ responded before turning back to her friends. She smiled at Peter and ripped up her letter, too. "The truth is rarely celebrated out the gate, anyway. And I don't regret knowing the truth about you."

She said bye to Lila and Ned before moving back down the counter. Ned slid out of his chair and pat both Peter and Lila on the back before leaving the shop. Peter felt frozen, he hadn't moved much since Flash entered the shop. But instinctually, he felt his hand curl around Lila's fingers, not even realizing she reached out to him.

He turned to look at her, hardly knowing where he found the courage, and saw not a single ounce of blame. Far more than what he deserved, but he stared into Lila's eyes anyway, hoping to wash away the past five minutes. She squeezed his hand before letting go, placing both hands on either side of his face. A soft kiss was planted on his lips, and he reciprocated in kind. When she pulled away, she said, "My dad's making dinner if you a-and May want a break from Happy's place, wanna come over?"

Peter nodded, but he couldn't help the self-loathing. "Yeah, if your dad's okay having dinner with the sole reason you're not getting into college."

He jolted in his seat when he felt Lila flick his forehead. Her features were set in stern lines, but her eyes looked at him the same way they always have. "The future is the least of our problems, Pete, and college isn't the k-key to it. We're — We're gonna be okay, because we'll figure it out together." She kissed him one last time before taking her ripped up letter and walking out the door.

Peter watched her leave, the autumn morning sun shining through her hair. He heard the soft chime of the bell on the door, and her Parisian perfume danced on the breeze that entered the bakery. It was there, in the dim lighting and in the midst of overwhelming emotion that Peter saw the breeze play with the Halloween lights still up. There was a set wrapped around the column across from him, and when he focused in, he thought the silly little plastic wizard heads bore a striking resemblance to a real wizard Peter knew.

The idea was so strong and so sudden that Peter didn't even realize he had left the bakery and was headed for Greenwich Village until he was down the street.

                                *****

The cobblestone streets were quieter, trees surrounding red bricked townhomes and small shops. Everyone was in the West Village just a few blocks over, where the cafes were abundant and the shops were more enticing. But Peter had no need for shopping, and he was too focused to eat anything. He pulled the address out of his memory, and plugged it into his phone. 177a Bleecker Street.

The Sanctum Sanctorum stood stately on the corner, and relatively unassuming. The only real difference in the last time he'd been there was the trees: instead of fully in bloom, they had about half the leaves left and all were different colors. The bright blue front door welcomed him closer, and the doorbell to Peter's right stood waiting.

But he didn't even reach the doorbell before the doors opened inward, and a gust of frigid air greeted Peter in the foyer. It might have been fall in New York City, but a blizzard had struck the Sanctorum. Snow covered everything inside, from the artifacts and benches lining the walls to the grand staircase central to the room. The only other occupants inside were two younger strangers, busy shoveling the snow into buckets. Peter thought it hardly made a difference, as there was still snow everywhere, and there were only two of them, but who was he to question what was going on.

"Um — hi," Peter greeted after clearing his throat. Both the boy and the girl paused, standing upright with the shovels half-turned. They didn't greet him back, they simply stared at him.

"Hi?" Peter repeated, more unsure by the second. "I'm — uh..."

A portal appeared in front of Peter, and a man in a fluffy winter coat appeared, hood over his head. He grumbled, "... the most famous person in the world." He carried two suitcases, and it seemed like on the other side of the portal was just a section of the Sanctorum that was upstairs. "I know."

The man lowered his hood, and Peter recognized who was underneath. "Wong," the man said.

Peter swallowed, and rubbed his hands together to fight off the cold. "I know. I mean — we met a couple months ago. The demon? From—"

"N'astirh. Right. Try not to slip, we don't have liability insurance."

Peter took a few more hesitant steps inside. "Is all this for a holiday party?" He asked curiously.

"No," Wong answered. The portal behind him closed once all his bags had been brought through. "One of the rotunda gateways connects to Siberia. A blizzard blasted through."

Just as Wong finished his explanation, a figure descended from the upper floors, wearing a regal cape, a puffer jacket, Timberland boots and holding a steaming mug of something or other. "Because someone forgot to cast a monthly maintenance spell to keep the seals tight." Doctor Strange had a smug, sarcastic grin on his face. It was immediately wiped off when he landed and his feet slipped on the icy floors.

"That's right," Wong sarcastically replied, keeping his eyes trained on Peter. "He did, because he forgot I now have higher duties."

"Higher duties?" Strange repeated incredulously.

"The Sorcerer Supreme has higher duties, yes."

Peter grew confused, "Wait, I thought you were Sorcerer Supreme?" He gestured to Strange.

"Oh, that's right, we didn't really have time to catch up on things the last time we saw each other." Strange sipped his coffee and shook his head. "No, he got it on a technicality because I Blipped for five years. How's your friend holding up, by the way? Or should I say girlfriend, if the news is accurate?" Strange's cape flickered at the mention, like it remembered who Lila was.

"Um, Lila's good. She's doing really well, thanks to you." Peter turned to Wong. "Congratulations," he politely offered.

"If I'd been there—" Strange continued, but was cut off when Wong walked in front of him to go over to the other two people in the room.

"You'd burn the whole place down. You two, no one said stop shoveling."

Strange just shrugged and walked the other way. "So Peter, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Right, um," Peter moved forward, than hastily corrected his footing after he slipped. He scrambled to catch up. "I'm really sorry to bother you, sir, but—"

"Please," Strange said, stopping at a fireplace in the wall Peter hadn't seen previously. He flicked his wrist and a warm fire sprung to life. "We saved half the universe together and banished a chaos demon from this realm together, I think we're beyond you calling me 'sir'."

"Okay," Peter tried again, "Stephen."

"That feels weird, but I'll allow it."

The heat of the fire seemed to thaw his thought process, too. Peter bit the inside of his cheek before bringing the conversation back to the thought that got him there in the first place. "When — um — When Mysterio revealed my identity, m-my entire life got screwed up. And I was wondering — I mean, I don't know if this would actually work — but I was wondering if maybe you could go back in time and make it so that he never did?"

Doctor Strange fixed him with a sympathetic stare. "Peter," he began, his tone less sarcastic, but no less kind, "We tampered with the stability of space-time to resurrect countless lives. You wanna do it again just because yours got messy?"

"This isn't — It's not about me," Peter argued. I mean, this is really hurting a lot of people. My Aunt May, Happy, Lila, my best friends, their futures are ruined just because they know me and they've done nothing wrong."

"I am so sorry," Strange replied, and he genuinely sounded it. "But even if I wanted to, I don't have the Time Stone anymore."

Peter blinked, the memory coming back to him. "That's right." And he stood there, next to the fire in the indoor blizzard, and felt the last of his hopes melt away. It wasn't just a no for Peter, it was a no for everyone he hoped to reconcile, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand that guilt. Swallowing thickly, he gave Doctor Strange a brief smile before continuing. "I'm really sorry if I wasted your time."

"You didn't."

"Just... forget about it, please."

"Oh, he will," Wong said from behind Peter, throwing his coat's fur-lined hood up over his head again. "He's very good at forgetting things."

"Wong," Strange said, and when Peter turned back to face the sorcerer, he was surprised to see his face lit up with an idea. "You've actually generated a good idea."

"What?" Wong asked hesitantly.

Strange offered a wry smile, looking pleased with himself. "The Runes of Kof-Kol."

"The Runes of Kof-Kol?" Peter repeated, not understanding at all what that was. Or how it would help him.

Strange seemed to pick up on that, and he waved his hand. "Oh, it's just a standard spell of forgetting. It won't turn back time, but at least people will forget you were ever Spider-Man."

"Seriously?" Peter asked, hope filling his whole body. "That would be amazing—"

"No, not seriously," Wong said, sobering the group. "That spell travels the dark borders between known and unknown reality. It's too dangerous."

Despite how dangerous it indeed sounded, Strange just rolled his eyes. "We've used it for a lot less," he scoffed. "Do you remember the full moon party at Kamar-Taj?"

"No," Wong answered.

"Exactly." There was a tense silence as the two sorcerers stared at each other. Finally, Strange sighed. "Come on, Wong. Hasn't he been through enough?"

Wong looked to Peter, his brow furrowed in concern, pity, and maybe even a bit of calculation. A portal appeared behind him, the other side displaying a magnificent temple. Wong slowly backed into it and looked back to Strange, "Just leave me out of this."

"Fine," Strange agreed, waiting until the portal closed to send Peter a mischievous smirk. Peter, who was still wondering what a full moon party at Kamar-Taj would entail, merely followed Strange in a kind of stupor.

He followed Strange all the way to the back of the entryway, behind the grand staircase. A small door sat hidden, and Strange opened it to reveal a steep staircase. The walls around them were brick initially, but the further down they traveled, the brick graduated into even older looking stone structures.

Peter guessed that by the time they'd reached their destination, the two were well below even the subway lines underground. Crumbling stone structures that one might see in Rome or Greece littered the floor, pockets of water refracting minimal lighting in the vast cavern.

Doctor Strange stopped at a floating stone basin, his winter clothing replaced with his usual wardrobe of flexible robes. Peter watched for a moment as Strange prepared to do something, but couldn't help being distracted by his surroundings. "What is this place?"

"The Sanctum's built at the intersection of cosmic energy currents," Strange answered, a glowing orange liquid akin to the magic Peter had seen previously was poured into the basin. "We weren't the first to seek them out. Some of these walls are thousands of years old. And they shot an episode of The Equalizer here in the 80's."

"Well I — um — I really appreciate you doing this for me, sir."

"Don't mention it," The basin was glowing orange, and from a vial, Strange poured another bout of orange magic into it, beginning to manipulate it with his hands. "And don't call me sir."

A small smile. "Right, sorry."

"You ready?"

And Peter sighed, feeling relieved that this was happening. "I'm ready."

Doctor Strange crossed his arms and said, "Nice knowing you, Spider-Man."

It was such an odd phrase to Peter, that he couldn't help but ask, "Wait, excuse me?"

Doctor Strange was conducting the spell, more focused on the magic he was now manipulating in his hands. But he still answered. "The entire world's about to forget that Peter Parker is Spider-Man. Including me."

Peter surged forward, panic replacing his relief. "Everyone?" A stream of orange was beginning to encompass strange in a large sphere-shape. Peter stepped within the bounds of it and asked, "Can't some people still know?"

"That's not how the spell works," Strange replied, still focused on the magic. "It's very difficult and dangerous to change it mid-casting."

"So my girlfriend's just gonna forget about everything we went through?" Peter thought briefly about blazing green eyes and tea-scented shampoo. "I mean, will she even be my girlfriend?"

"That depends," Strange was shaking with the effort of holding together the spell. "Was she your girlfriend just because you're Spider-Man, or...?"

Even though Lila had told him otherwise, in a moment where things could go really wrong, Peter doubted everything. "I mean, I don't know. I really hope not!"

"Alright, fine," Strange waved his hand, and the spell rotated above them before he caught hold of it once more. "Everyone in the world's gonna forget that you're Spider-Man except your girlfriend." Another line was casted around them, and Strange had control of the spell once more.

It only got worse. "Thank you so much, I — oh my god, Ned. Ned," Peter told Strange.

"What is a Ned?"

"He's my best friend, so it's really important to me that he knows."

Stephen rolled his eyes, and he waved his arms once more. "Okay, let's not change the parameters of this spell anymore while I'm casting it."

"Okay, okay, I'm done. I swear I'm done." He wasn't done. "Well, my aunt May and my friend MJ should really know."

"Peter, stop tampering with the spell," Strange warned.

"When they found out I was Spider-Man, it was — it was really messy. And I don't think I can go through with that again." The rings of orange were stacking higher, and Strange didn't respond. "So, Aunt May and MJ?"

"Yes," Strange's voice was strained.

"Thank you," Peter said, his eyebrows furrowing. "Happy?"

"No, I'm annoyed!"

"No, it's a nickname. Harold 'Happy' Hogan. He used to work with Tony Stark, but then he was kind of dating my aunt..."

"Could you—" Strange was trembling under the effort of holding the spell together. "— Would you just stop talking?"

As Strange lost his grip on the spell, the floor beneath them crumbled. Peter expected to fall into the bright purple abyss, but instead he and Strange were lifted off their feet. The rings of orange swirled furiously around them, and the stone walls began to crumble out of existence, too.

But Peter was still distracted. "Basically everybody who knew I was Spider-Man before should still know!"

Strange peered around at their little infinity in fear and awe. He began yelling with the effort it took to bring the spell back to containment, the walls built back up again stone by stone. Peter's feet felt solid ground again, and in front of him was the remains of the spell, bouncing around in a pentagonal prism.

"Did it work?" Peter asked.

Strange was panting, and glared at Peter. "No. You changed my spell six times."

"Five times," Peter corrected.

"You changed my spell!" Strange yelled. "You don't do that! I told you, and that is why." Peter eyed the trapped spell, furiously bouncing around to look for an escape. "The spell was completely out of control, and if I hadn't shut it down, something catastrophic could have happened."

"Stephen, listen, I am so sorry—"

"Call me Sir." It was a little dramatic on Strange's part, but Peter felt the sting regardless.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Strange sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, after everything we've been through, I forget you're still just a kid. Look, Parker, the problem is not Mysterio. It's you trying to live to different lives. The longer you do that, the more dangerous it becomes, believe me.

"I'm so sorry about you and your friends not getting into college. But if they rejected you and you tried to convince them to reconsider, then there's nothing else you can do."

Peter felt his head grow staticky, like he missed something very important. "When you say 'convince them', you mean, like, I could've called them?"

Strange was looking at Peter like he grew a second head. "Yeah."

Peter felt like he grew a second head. "I could do that?"

"You haven't called—?"

"Well, I mean, I got the letter. I assumed that was it—"

"I'm sorry," the stone dais was pushed to the side so that Doctor Strange could step closer. "Are you telling me, that you didn't even think to plead your case with them first before you asked me to brainwash the entire world?"

Peter swallowed. "Well, I mean, when you put it like that..."

It was a brief trip up to the street, and Peter watched as the doors to the Sanctum Santorum slammed in his face.