Let's do things differently this time. So differently.

His name is Y/N L/N.

He was bitten by a radioactive spider, and he's not the only one.

He hasn't always had it easy, and he's not the only one.

You think you know the rest. You don't.

I thought knew the rest, but I didn't.

I didn't wanna hurt him, or Miles, but I did. And... he's not the only one.

And now I have to fix it.

And......he's not the only one.

One Year Later

Earth 65

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as George, Gwen's father, attempted to bridge the gap between them with casual conversation.

"Oh, hey, hey, hey, how's the band?" George asked, trying to find common ground.

Gwen, clearly uncomfortable, replied with a forced smile, "Uh, yeah, great, I, uh, quit. So, you know, thumbs up."

Their strained conversation was interrupted by George's attempt to share a glimmer of hope, "We, uh... we caught a break in the Spider-Woman case."

"Oh, that's good," Gwen replied, her voice flat, not wanting to engage too deeply.

"We're close, I'm tellin' ya, I can feel it," George continued, his tone earnest.

"Me too," Gwen replied quietly, her mind elsewhere.

"It'll be good for us," George said, trying to reassure himself as much as Gwen.

"Don't be so sure," Gwen cautioned, her voice carrying a weight of uncertainty.

"She killed your friend," George said bluntly, his frustration leaking into his words.

Gwen's eyes flared with defiance. "You don't know that."

"What do you mean I don't know that? I do know that, I was there. She ran from the scene," George countered, his frustration giving way to anger.

"Maybe she didn't have a choice," Gwen protested, her voice tinged with desperation.

"I got a job to do, Gwen," George said, his voice weary, emphasizing the burden he carried as a cop.

"It won't bring him back," Gwen whispered, her gaze fixed on the floor, her pain palpable.

"I don't wanna argue about this, okay?" George said, his voice softening with a mix of exhaustion and concern.

"Yeah, I can tell," Gwen replied, her words barely audible, a mix of resignation and hurt.

Their strained conversation was abruptly interrupted by a crackling voice from the police radio, a lifeline that diverted their attention. "All units, possible superhuman event, Guggenheim Museum. Suspect is V2, also known as the Vulture."

George's eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope, his focus shifting from their argument to the potential breakthrough in the case. "Oh, hey, this could be it. So, uh, see you later?"

"Cool," Gwen murmured, her emotions still raw and unresolved.

With a final, forced attempt at normalcy, George added, "Uh, I-I'll call later. Love you!"

Gwen offered a faint smile, a fragile attempt to mask the turmoil inside, "Love you too, Dad."

Gwen watched her father's retreating figure until he disappeared from view, the echoes of their conversation lingering in the air. With a heavy sigh, she turned her attention to her drum set, a sanctuary where she could lose herself in the rhythm and temporarily escape the complexities of her life.

As she opened the familiar case, her eyes fell upon her Spider-Woman suit, neatly folded inside. Hesitating only for a moment, she reached for it, her fingers tracing the sleek fabric. For a moment, she stared at the suit, a silent reminder of the responsibilities that came with her powers.

In a swift motion, she changed into her Spider-Woman attire, the black and white costume enveloping her like a second skin. The weight of the mask felt both comforting and suffocating, a constant reminder of the dual life she led.

As she prepared to swing out of her window, her gaze fell upon a photo tucked inside the case. It was a picture of her and Y/N, taken on a bus a year ago. They were making silly faces, their laughter captured in the frame. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips as she remembered that moment, the genuine happiness they shared.

She gently placed the photo on her desk, her fingers lingering on the image for a moment longer. She missed Y/N more than she wanted to admit, his absence leaving an unfillable void in her life. It was as if a piece of her was missing, a connection severed but never truly lost.

With a deep breath, she pushed aside her thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Swinging out of her window, she soared into the night, the city below her a sprawling canvas of lights and shadows. Little did she know that her world was on the cusp of change.

Earth 61

In the heart of the city, concealed within a dimly lit alley, a woman's desperate cries echoed through the night. A chilling realization settled in as Spider-Man's instincts kicked into high gear. Trouble was brewing.

With a skillful twist of his web-shooters, he angled his descent towards the source of the commotion. His arrival was heralded by the telltale sound of web-fluid being discharged, and he touched down gracefully at the mouth of the alley. Before him, a group of menacing men had cornered a terrified woman, their leering smirks and crude comments making their intentions all too clear.

The woman's face was a tapestry of fear and desperation, a sight that stirred something deep within Spider-Man. Without hesitation, he unleashed his retractable spikes with a soft metallic click, and they gleamed dangerously in the dim light. In that moment, he became not just Y/N, but the guardian of the city, an arbiter of justice.

The men were taken aback by his sudden arrival, their bravado faltering as they faced the iconic red and blue figure before them. Spider-Man wasn't about to let them off easy. Quips danced on the tip of his tongue, ready to be fired. With a confident stride, he advanced into the fray, his red lenses narrowing with determination.

"Let's put this party on ice, fellas," he said with a sardonic grin, the retractable spikes extending further. "I don't think you're gonna like the headliner."

A scuffle ensued, Spider-Man darting between the startled men, his enhanced agility allowing him to weave in and out of their clumsy attacks. His retractable spikes proved to be a versatile addition to his arsenal, providing both offense and defense. He disarmed one of the men, sending the weapon clattering to the ground, and leaped high into the air, delivering a satisfying kick to another's jaw.

The woman watched in awe as Spider-Man's athleticism and acrobatics unfolded before her eyes. His moves were a combination of grace and power, an intricate dance that left the men baffled and defeated.

One by one, they crumbled under the relentless assault of Spider-Man, collapsing to the ground or clutching their wounds. The alleyway, once fraught with fear, was now filled with the groans of the defeated and the sound of justice prevailing.

Spider-Man extended a helping hand to the woman, who had been saved from a potentially dire fate. "Are you okay, ma'am?" he asked, the compassion in his voice a stark contrast to the bravado of his earlier quips.

She nodded shakily, tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you. You... you saved me."

A warm smile graced Spider-Man's lips as he gave a nod of his own.

"It's what I do."

Swinging gracefully through the city, Y/N couldn't shake off the lingering feeling of loneliness that had settled in his chest over the past year. The bustling sounds of New York below him seemed distant, drowned out by his own thoughts. With each web swing, he felt the weight of his dual life pressing down on him, the responsibilities of being both Y/N and Spider-Man taking their toll.

His attempts to reach out to Peter had been met with silence, the once-close friendship strained by the demands of life and relationships. Y/N missed the days when they would team up, cracking jokes and fighting crime side by side. Now, it felt like a distant memory, a friendship slipping through his fingers like sand.

Screwing up his determination, he spotted Screwball's distinctive graffiti nearby. The notorious social media villain had been causing havoc again, her thirst for online attention driving her to dangerous lengths. As he swung towards Brooklyn, he couldn't help but think of the friends he had made in other dimensions.

Spotting her perched on a rooftop, smartphone in hand, Spider-Man wasted no time. With a swift flick of his wrist, he webbed her up, leaving her dangling like a not-so-friendly neighborhood piñata. "Ah, Screwball. Bombing for followers? Really scraping the bottom of the barrel there," he quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Screwball, despite her predicament, couldn't resist the urge to retort. "Spider-Man, you're just jealous you didn't think of it first! Imagine the likes I'm getting right now. Explosive content, quite literally!" she exclaimed, her tone oddly enthusiastic.

Spider-Man rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Trust me, Screwball, my social media game is fine." he teased.

As he webbed up the small bomb, rendering it harmless, he continued his banter. "By the way, I hope you've been keeping up with my latest posts. You know, the ones where I bring down actual threats and not just chase online clout." he quipped, his words laden with amusement.

With Screwball left webbed to the rooftop, Spider-Man swung away.

Swinging through the crisp night air, Spider-Man made his way to the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. As he landed on a nearby ledge, he gazed at the mural he had painted.

Y/N felt a mixture of nostalgia and longing wash over him. The vibrant colors that once adorned the wall had dulled with time, and he had diligently repainted sections that vandals had tried to deface.

His gaze lingered on the familiar faces of his friends – Miles, Anya, Peter, and Gwen – each captured in a moment of unity and determination.

His eyes settled on Gwen's image, her confident smile frozen in time. Admitting it to himself now, he acknowledged the crush that had blossomed into something more profound over the past year.

He missed her fiery spirit, her understanding of his dual life, and the unspoken connection they had shared. Her absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

With a sense of purpose and a heart full of determination, Spider-Man swung into the night. It was getting late, and given the fact it was a school night, he needed to get to bed.

🕷️

Principal Rio Morales sat across the desk from Jessica, discussing the academic progress of her son, Y/N. The room was filled with the low hum of conversation as Principal Morales went over Y/N's grades, his classes, and his overall performance.

"Y/N is a bright student, Ms. L/N," Principal Morales said, her tone measured and thoughtful. "His grades in math and science are excellent. Along with his art classes. He's clearly a talented individual. However, I'm concerned about his occasional tardiness and absences. It might affect his college prospects."

Jessica frowned, worry lines etching her forehead. "I've noticed that too," she admitted, her voice tinged with concern. "I'm not sure what's been going on. He's usually so focused."

Rio nodded sympathetically. "Is something happening at home that I don't know about?"

Jessica sighed, her expression clouded with a mix of sadness and concern. "It's... complicated," she replied, her voice soft. "His father passed away three years ago, and as the anniversary approaches, he tends to withdraw a bit. It hits him hard every year."

Rio nodded sympathetically. "It's always good to consider the possibility. Sometimes, personal issues can affect a student's focus. I'll keep an eye on him and make sure he gets the support he needs."

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Y/N walked in, slightly out of breath. Jessica shot him a stern look, clearly unhappy with his tardiness. Principal Morales turned her attention to him, maintaining her composed demeanor.

"Y/N, please have a seat. We were just discussing your college aspirations," Principal Morales said, motioning for him to sit down.

Y/N took a seat, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry for being late. Professor Warren likes to go on and on about this cloning theory."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of Professor Warren and his obsession." Principal snickered. However, she knew that wasn't what they brought Y/N in for.

Morales continued, her eyes focusing on the academic records before her. "Y/N, I see here that you're interested in studying Engineering at Empire State University. It's an admirable choice, but I can't help but wonder if this is truly what you want."

Jessica looked surprised. "Engineering? I thought you wanted to go to art school."

Y/N glanced at his mom, his expression unreadable. "Plans change, Mom. I want to explore other interests."

He avoided mentioning his newfound desire to explore dimensions, wanting to keep that aspect of his life a secret.

Principal Morales chimed in, trying to ease the tension in the room. "It's not uncommon for students to change their career paths, Ms. L/N. Y/N is still figuring out what he wants to do, and that's perfectly okay."

As the conversation continued, Principal Morales shared a bit about her older son, Miles, who had gone through a similar phase. Jessica found solace in knowing that she wasn't alone in navigating the complexities of her child's aspirations and struggles.

🕷️

After another long night of stopping a bank robbery, Y/N had arrived home. He slipped his suit into his bag, and approached the house, knowing his Mom was going to freak out.

The front door creaked open, and Y/N tried to slip inside unnoticed, but his mother, Jessica, was waiting in the dim light of the hallway. Her eyes, usually warm, were now filled with worry and anger.

"Y/N, it's nearly midnight. Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was laced with frustration, demanding answers she knew he wouldn't easily give.

"I was out with friends, Mom. We lost track of time," Y/N replied, trying to keep his tone casual, but Jessica could see through the façade. She folded her arms, unimpressed.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N. And don't you dare use that tone with me," she said sharply, her patience wearing thin. "You've been skipping classes, coming home late, and you seem distant. Is this about your father's death? Is that what's driving you to act this way?"

Y/N's jaw clenched, and he shot back, his frustration bubbling over. "You wouldn't understand, Mom. This is my life, my way of dealing with things. I can't just move on like you want me to."

Jessica's eyes softened with concern. "Y/N, I want to help you. But I can't do that if you keep shutting me out. Are you hanging around bad people? Is that why you're acting like this?"

A bitter laugh escaped Y/N's lips. "Bad people? No, Mom, I'm not hanging around bad people. And it's not my fault if Peter doesn't have time for me anymore."

Jessica, sensing the hidden pain in his words, pushed further, trying to break through his emotional walls. "Y/N, you can't keep pushing everyone away. You can't face everything alone. Let me in, let me help you."

But Y/N recoiled, his eyes blazing with frustration. "You can't help me, Mom. Nobody can. You don't understand what I'm going through. You don't understand anything."

Jessica's frustration reached its peak, and in a moment of weakness, she said something that hurt more than she could have anticipated. "You're becoming just like your father. So obsessed with things that don't matter, you're letting everything slip through your fingers."

The words hung heavily in the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence. Jessica regretted her words almost immediately, and her expression softened. She took a step toward her son. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean that. I just worry about you."

Y/N remained silent for a moment, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Then, without saying a word, he turned and left the house, his mother's voice calling out after him, her words fading into the night.

She had pushed him away, unintentionally mirroring the distance her husband had created before his untimely death.

🕷️

The cool breeze brushed against Y/N's face as he swung through the city, his thoughts filled with the events of the last year. A year of change, of loneliness, and a growing sense of isolation. With his friends scattered across dimensions, he was navigating his double life alone.

Things had gotten complicated. Peter, his childhood friend, had been distancing himself, more interested in hanging out with Flash and dating Mary Jane than spending time with Y/N. Their friendship had grown strained, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of abandonment. He missed the days when they were doing nearly everything together.

Swinging through the city felt both freeing and imprisoning. He had so much to share, so much he wanted to talk about, but who could he turn to? Who could he trust?

Deep down, he knew his mom, Jessica, was worried about him. Their argument still hung in the air between them, shadowed by the tragic night his father had been killed. She was concerned, but Y/N couldn't reveal the truth about his identity as Spider-Man; it would put her in danger.

As he reached his father's gravesite, Y/N landed softly and stood before the gravestone. "Hey, Dad," he said softly. "It's been three years, and I still don't know if I've made you proud."

Y/N's voice quivered as he recounted the years he had spent as Spider-Man, the friends he had made, and the burdens he now carried. "I wish you were here, Dad," he whispered, a hint of tears in his eyes. I'm so lost without you. I never thought being Spider-Man would feel so... lonely."

🕷️

Jessica stood in her son's room, the silence echoing in her ears. She had left a series of texts on Y/N's phone, hoping he would return soon. But when there was no response, she realized that she might have pushed too far during their argument. With a heavy sigh, she decided to clean his room, perhaps to make amends in her own way.

The room was a reflection of her son's personality—colorful posters, comics, collectibles, and a shelf filled with family photos. She ran her fingers along the framed pictures of Y/N and his father, Jacob. The memories of happier times were bittersweet.

Petting the black kitten named Storm, they had found her during a stormy night, and she had quickly become a part of their family. Her warm purring was a comforting presence as she curled up onto Y/N's bed.

Jessica began organizing Y/N's collectibles and figures, gently placing them on the dresser. As she did, she couldn't help but look at the family photos. The ones where Y/N was just a little boy, his face full of innocent curiosity. She wished she could turn back time. When their family was whole again.

Amidst the collectibles and the family photos, she found his sketchbook. She hesitated but couldn't resist flipping through the pages. Her son's talent was evident in every drawing. His creativity knew no bounds, and she was incredibly proud of him.

She wondered about his choice of career. Why didn't he want to go to art school? Did he doubt his talent? Her fingers traced the sketches of figures, landscapes, and intricate designs. It was an array of his emotions, poured onto the pages.

But as she continued flipping, something caught her eye. It was a sketch of a girl, her features striking, her blonde hair with a distinctive undercut. She looked confident in her sleek school uniform.

The same girl she had noticed in a drawing in his room over a year ago. It had puzzled her then, and it puzzled her now. Who was she, and why had she never seen or heard of her before?

As she leafed through the pages, the same girl appeared in different ways. In sketches that depicted her vibrant and lively. Jessica couldn't help but wonder why Y/N had never mentioned her. Was this a friend he was keeping secret?

Finally, she reached the last page, and her eyes settled on a photograph. It was of Y/N and the girl, sitting side by side on a bus. A ticket lay beside the picture. Jessica was left wondering if her son had a girlfriend, and why he had never introduced her to his mother.

Is this why he's been going out late?

Jessica felt a mix of emotions – curiosity, concern, and a tinge of happiness for her son.

Closing the sketchbook, she set it down gently. Determined to mend their strained relationship, she hoped to ask Y/N about the mysterious girl. Perhaps understanding this aspect of his life could bridge the gap between them.

🕷️

Y/N entered the house, the weight of the evening's events hanging heavy on his shoulders. Seeing his mother, he felt a mix of relief and guilt. "Hey, Mom," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his apologies. "I'm sorry for leaving my phone. I didn't mean to worry you."

Jessica sighed, her concern etched on her face. "I know I overstepped, but I can't help worrying about you, Y/N."

He nodded, understanding her perspective. "I get it, Mom. But there are things... things I can't tell you yet." He hesitated, almost revealing his secret identity, but he held back. The time wasn't right.

Jessica's eyes softened with understanding, though sadness lingered there. "You'll come to me when you're ready, won't you?"

"Yeah, I promise," Y/N replied, the sincerity in his voice easing some of her worry.

His gaze then fell on the sketchbook, now resting on his bed. He felt a surge of anger, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Mom, you went through my sketchbook? That's private!"

Jessica immediately regretted her actions. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to invade your privacy like that."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N calmed down, his tone softer. "It's okay. Just... how far did you get?"

Jessica hesitated before confessing, "I saw the pictures of the girl, the photograph, and the bus ticket. Is she... your girlfriend?"

Y/N decided it was time to open up about Gwen, albeit without mentioning her origin. "Her name's Gwen. We met last year, and she's amazing. We have so much in common. I haven't seen her for a while, but I can't stop thinking about her. She's not my girlfriend, but I miss her, Mom."

Jessica's expression softened, her maternal instincts kicking in. "Y/N, it's not weird. Relationships can be complicated, especially when distance is involved. If she means that much to you, she must be special."

He nodded, appreciating his mother's understanding. They reconciled, embracing in a hug. Jessica gently pulled away, a hopeful smile on her face. "If Gwen ever comes back, I'd like to meet her. It sounds like she's important to you."

Y/N smiled back, relieved by his mother's acceptance. "Yeah, Mom, I think she'd like that too."

Y/N returned to his bed. Storm, sensing his emotions, snuggled up beside him, seeking comfort and providing some in return. He gently swiped his fingers across her collar, a small P/C and S/C collar he had created for her.

His phone in hand, he plugged in his earphones and played "Problems" by ilyaugust. The music filled his ears, the lyrics resonating with his feelings, the melody providing a melancholic backdrop to his thoughts. As the soothing rhythm of the song enveloped him, Y/N closed his eyes, allowing the music to carry him away.

In the embrace of the melody, he drifted into the realm of dreams, where he could be with Gwen and his friends from other dimensions, if only for a fleeting moment. As sleep gently claimed him, he held onto the hope that somehow, someday, they would all reunite.

In the darkness of his room, accompanied only by the soft purring of Storm, Y/N found solace, dreaming of a future where he could be with those he cared about most.

"I got problems, but who doesn't?
It's me and you, it don't matter who judges
Oh-ooh-ooh, now you got me feeling like "Oh-ooh-ooh-ooh"
I got problems, but who doesn't?
Hope one day you can learn to love
Oh-ooh-ooh, now you got me feeling likе "Oh-ooh-ooh-ooh"

Earth 138

In the dim glow of Hobie's room, Gwen found herself caught up in an impromptu conversation about none other than Y/N himself.

She rambled on about his bravery, his quick wit, and just about anything else that came to her mind. Hobie, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, couldn't help but interject with a smirk.

"Wow, Gwen, you're practically writing him love letters," Hobie teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Pav, the eternal optimist, chimed in, his infectious enthusiasm filling the room. "Love is love, Gwen! Embrace it! It's like Anya and that boy from 1610, right?"

Gwen blushed, vehemently denying any romantic feelings. "It's not love, guys. He's just... really cool."

"Yeah, sure." Hobie said. "Keep telling yourself that."

She sighed. "I wish I could go see him right now, but Jess and Miguel would kill me."

Hobie, ever the troublemaker, smirked. "Why not let me handle them? I can create the perfect diversion. You slip out, and they'll be none the wiser."

With that taken care of, Gwen activated her dimensional watch, creating a shimmering portal in the room. The prospect of seeing Y/N, the boy who had captured her thoughts, filled her with both excitement and trepidation.

As she disappeared in a shimmering burst of light, Hobie's voice echoed in the room, filled with humor and camaraderie. "Say hi to Peter Pan for us, Gwendy!"

With a mischievous grin, she stepped through the portal, leaving her friends behind.