PETER 🕷

_

I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT I DREAMED ABOUT, but I remember waking up to a nightmare.

The first half of my morning was cute, honestly, before I got to the second half. I don't know if she knew it, but [y/n] had a terrible habit of curling herself into her blankets like a burrito, which left me in the cold at various points of the night. Not only that, but apparently her 'ideal sleeping position' involved hiking one of her legs up while she lay flat on her stomach.

It was fine and all, but I got snapped out of my dreams at one point when she somehow wrapped her arm around me, her leg tangled into mine—she was like a sloth. A very cute sloth. I didn't mind not having a blanket, since she was practically hugging me for the rest of the night.

But, then the second half of the morning came.

"Well, then, Peter," a voice said from above me, "care to explain why there's a girl in your bed?"

I shot up from my spot, banging my head on the top of the bunk-bed in panic. Even through the throbbing pain (and possible concussion) I could see Aunt May staring at me blankly, with her hands on her hips, and eyes narrowed in suspicion.

A quick glance told me that [y/n] was still sleeping, arm hooked limply onto mine. I wasn't sure how I was going to get out of this one. I couldn't say that she was my soulmate—because that still wouldn't be reasonable explanation for why we were sharing a bed at this current time—and knowing May, she'd pester [y/n] with questions, and Spider-Man would definitely be brought up.

"Hi," I said sheepishly, "how are you, May?"

She was unamused. "That's not an explanation, Peter."

"Uhh, we were doing research?"

"On what?!"

I didn't know how to use my words, and my half-asleep mind wasn't helping in the slightest. At the sound of May's heightened voice, [y/n] shifted in her sleep, mumbling what sounded like 'gwo back ta' sleep, peeta' under her breath.

I didn't want to wake her and have her deal with the mess I found myself in first thing.

"Let's talk in the kitchen," I said, standing onto my feet, "I swear I have an explanation."

May got the memo, gracing the sleeping girl with a side-eye before following me out of my room. I really didn't know what I was going to say, because I was dealing with far to many secrets to keep—Me being Spider-Man, her being my soulmate, her knowing her soulmate was Spider-Man but thinking it wasn't me—this was a challenge.

Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I entered the kitchen with an awkward aura. I didn't have much time to think of a good explanation.

"Talk," May said quickly, "now."

Sinking against the counter, I went with my gut. "She's [y/n], the girl I've told you about, remember?"

"The cookie girl?"

"The scientist," I corrected her, "she's baking something revolutionary, May."

"I don't care if she can bake, Peter, as long as there's no buns in that oven—"

"May, oh my god!"

"Hey, don't take that tone with me," she said, narrowing her eyes at me sharply, "I walked into your room to see you sharing a bed with a girl I've never met or saw walk in through the door. You know perfectly well what that implies."

She was right, it wasn't the best situation to be taken out of context. Exhaling, I placed the back of my wrist against my forehead, digging my hips into the handles of the counter drawers. It was early, and I was tired. School was supposed to start in a few hours. At this rate, I don't think I'll have enough energy to do Night Patrol.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, eyes gracing the floor, "I have an explanation, but—"

"The only explanation is that she's your soulmate," May cut in, "you know how wrong it is to mess around with someone who's not."

Society standards, right.

"So, I'll drop this if you tell me she is."

Hell.

This was a problem. I trusted May, but I knew she had a habit of slipping out secrets whenever she wasn't thinking. What was worse, is the wrath [y/n] would face if I lied and said she wasn't my soulmate—being with someone who wasn't just didn't happen in this society. I hated the idea of that, but that's how it was.

I had no choice. I had to tell the truth.

"She's my soulmate," I said quietly, "yeah."

May pretended she wasn't delighted at that information, but I saw it light up in her eyes. She'd always talked about how she met Uncle Ben, and how soulmates was the universe's way of telling you you'll be loved no matter what—you just have to find the right person.

"Awe, Pete," she said, crossing the kitchen and pulling me into a hug, "I'm so happy for you, kiddo."

A knot twisted in my stomach. "But May?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't tell anyone," I whispered, pulling away, " just please. She doesn't know yet."

A wave of confusion washed across my Aunt's face, and she tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I know she's my soulmate, but she doesn't know I'm hers," I explained, "it's super complicated, but whatever you do, please don't say anything."

"Complicated."

"I can't explain, but you have to trust me."

"Peter—"

"She's a great girl, and I'm so lucky to know her, but May...I can't tell her it's me yet. Please understand."

There was a pause, where the woman stared at me with unreadable eyes. Her glasses looked like they'd slide off the bridge of her nose.

But then she sighed, leaving the kitchen and walking into the living room. She dug out her wallet from her back, slipping out a few bucks and quietly stuffing it into the palm of my hand before I could question what she was doing.

"Take care of her, okay," she said, "make sure she doesn't miss school, and use that money to buy breakfast on the way there."

I stammered, "wait, what?"

"I'm going back to my room," she said, walking away, "if she's as good of a girl as you say she is, she deserves to be spared from the embarrassment of knowing you were both busted by me."

"May..."

"And no babies."

"May!"

"You heard me, Parker, now skedaddle."

I watched as she walked back into her room, quietly shutting the door and leaving me alone in the hallway.

Illıllııllıllı

"I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING," [y/n] said, taking a bite out of her sandwich, "it's an interview."

We were sitting on one of the benches outside of Midtown, waiting for the bell to ring. After my conversation with May, I woke her up, took her to get some breakfast, and then we went straight to school (she texted her foster-mom and made the excuse of leaving super early).

I glanced at her, tapping my finger against the side of my smoothie cup. She was wearing one of my shirts and my gym shorts, the pyjamas she wore yesterday tucked in her backpack.

"Listen to this," she continued, eyes glued to her phone, "NY-Time posted this; The Curious Case of the Soulmate-Change."

"Soulmate Change?" I questioned.

"Shh, Pete, just listen."

I settled into my seat on the bench, taking a sip of my smoothie. I texted Ned about the situation, and he said he'd meet me in homeroom for a full rundown—he'd probably judge my dumb choices, but they were, in fact, dumb.

"'In a world of the Super, it's not irregular to hear of Red-String mishaps,'" she began to read, "'in fact, it's beginning to be quite common'—here, just take my phone and read it."

Slapping her device into my hand, she peered over my shoulder, urging me to read it. By the look of the long paragraph on the screen, I realized she was simply uninterested in reading the whole thing out to me. I began to scan the words for information:

The Curious Case of the Soulmate-Change

By J. Jonah Jameson

In a world of the Super, it's not irregular to hear of Red-String mishaps. In fact, it's beginning to be quite common.

I had a chance to interview an undisclosed Super-Couple earlier this week (whose names I will not be mentioning, per request) and they told me all about their soulmate journey. Our interviewees were both born without Mutant Abilities, and have explained something we now know to be the 'Soulmate-Change'.

"Before we got the serums, we were just like anybody else," Person A said, "Average, Normal—"

"Oh, please [censored name], you were scrawny. I don't think you were ever average," Person B cuts in.

They bicker kindly for a moment, and it's clear these two are undoubtedly soulmates. We haven't reached the important information yet.

"As I was saying, before the serum, we had Red-Strings," Person A continued, "It was only until after did they change."

What did they change to?

"Oh, mine was a bunch of plums," A answered.

"Sketchbooks," B said.

After a thorough discussion, a revelation came to light. It seems Person B had suffered an unfortunate fate for a number of years, and was a victim to brainwashing. During that time, Person A explained how the string mutated into something else. It's clear these mutated strings are simply variants of the original Red-String.

"[censored name] and I weren't compatible when [they] were brainwashed," A explained, "it's because they acted differently than who they really were. It wasn't [their] choice."

"If you aren't in love with your soulmate, they're probably living two lives," B joined in, "you just have to find their true self."

I stared at the phone, trying to comprehend what I just read.

It was obvious who the interviewees were (given that I've been in their presence for a fair amount of time), but that's not what I was focused on. What they said was more important.

"Do you get it?" [y/n] asked, taking her phone back into her possession, "the article?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"My soulmate isn't Spider-Man, exactly," she began to reiterate, "but the person he was before he turned into an arachnid."

I wanted to correct her and say that the person was actually me without the mask, but I couldn't reveal my identity to her. Also, I winced when I remembered she thought I was legitimately a spider.

But the article made sense. I did feel a change in my personality when he got bitten. When I had the mask on, and I was able to use my powers, I was more confident and sassy. Regular Peter Parker wasn't like that. Spider-Man was. It was like I was two different people sometimes.

"It's impossible," she sighed into her hand, "you heard what Thor said, he's a giant spider."

I pursed my lips awkwardly. "Yeah..."

"My soulmate technically doesn't exist anymore...not at least someone I could love."

Ouch, Peter. You just got burned by your own actions.

"Maybe this is your chance to find someone else?" I suggested, "someone you feel comfortable with."

It was worth a shot, but clearly I missed by miles. [y/n] laughed, shaking her head and slipping her phone into her pocket. She finished her sandwich while I was reading the article, and by the looks of the rushing students, the bell was about to ring.

"You know that's not how soulmates work," she shrugged, "society sucks, dude."

I glanced at the pavement. "Maybe you shouldn't care what society thinks."

"Harder than it seems, Parker," she said, standing up, "but how's your soulmate-search, Peter? Found her yet?"

"I think so..?"

"Well, she's lucky to have someone like you on the other end of her string," she smiled, ruffling her hand through my hair, "I'm happy for you, Pete."

She turned, walking towards the school with a final wave. I wanted to tell her it was me, but I couldn't. I really couldn't. It would put so many people in danger, and after the stunts I've pulled? I didn't want her to hate me.

But I won't give up on her.