The movie flickered across the vast screen, its colors vivid in the dimly lit room. Peter sat with a furrowed brow, eyes fixed intently on the screen. He rarely got this absorbed.
A quiet surprise filled Jessica as she sat beside him. She didn't think Peter was someone who'd enjoy this kind of story. He was more of an action guy, and definitely an anime fan, anyway.
The food was another matter. Only Jessica's portion was left as Peter had devoured his portion earlier, regretting it immediately. He glanced longingly at her snack, wishing he'd saved some for the movie.
When the credits rolled, Peter and Jessica walked out of the theater, their hands loosely intertwined. The cool night air greeted them as Jessica glanced at Peter, curiosity tugging at her. She had to know what he thought—especially since she already had her own firm opinion about the disaster they just watched.
"So, what did you think of the movie?" Jessica asked, her tone light but teasing. She could already guess his answer.
"Massive disappointment," Peter muttered, his voice tinged with irritation.
Jessica couldn't help but smile at his reaction. He looked genuinely annoyed, and for some reason, it amused her.
"Did you know it was going to suck this badly?" Peter asked, his frustration bubbling over as he shook his head in disbelief.
"No," Jessica admitted, a little sheepish. "I read the book, and it was actually really good. I didn't think they'd butcher it this much."
"Well, they sure did," Peter said with a dry laugh. "I don't think I'll ever trust you with movie picks again."
Jessica laughed, nudging his arm playfully. "Oh, come on. I didn't make the movie! Besides, I think you're just grumpy because you ran out of snacks."
"You noticed?" Peter asked, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.
"Hard not to," Jessica replied, raising an eyebrow. "You kept eyeing the food in my hand like a starving puppy."
Peter let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Guess I wasn't very subtle, huh?"
"But in the end, I gave it to you," Jessica said, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Yeah, true. You didn't finish it anyway," Peter replied with a smirk, as if he'd won some unspoken contest.
As they stepped out of the theater and into the cool evening air, Peter glanced around. "Should we grab a taxi?" he asked.
He sighed quietly, his thoughts drifting. 'I really wish Grab existed right now. Wait, can't I start that company?' he mused, on the idea.
Jessica noticed his sigh and glanced up at him. Her chest tightened at the thought—he didn't want their time together to end. The subtle realization warmed her heart. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer, but not too tightly.
Peter looked down at her, surprised by the gesture. "What's this for?" he asked softly, though his expression showed he didn't mind.
"Nothing," Jessica said with a small smile, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. "Just... staying close for a little longer."
Peter chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Guess we can walk for a bit, then," he said, as they strolled into the night, neither in a hurry to let go.
"Peter, what's your plan after high school?" Jessica asked, her voice soft as they walked side by side.
"Maybe start a business or something," Peter replied casually, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought you'd go into science, you know, with all those science fairs you keep winning."
Peter chuckled, "Yeah, I like science, but I'm not sure if I want to make a career out of it."
Jessica nodded, thinking for a moment before he turned the question back on her.
"What about you? Got any big plans?" Peter asked, glancing at her.
"I don't know yet," Jessica admitted, her voice quieter now. "I haven't really figured it out."
...
Sunday arrived, in the calm of an abandoned train yard. Peter had just wrapped up his training and was now perched on top of an old train car, a book open in his hands.
The sun cast a faint golden glow over the rusted metal as he flipped a page, his focus unwavering. Slowly but surely, fragments of the original Peter's memories were returning to him, like scattered pieces of a puzzle falling into place.
"I'm done," Peter muttered to himself, slipping the finished book into his bag. Without missing a beat, he pulled out another one from the small collection he'd brought along.
'Maybe I do need to start experimenting,' he thought. If reading could help unlock pieces of Peter's past, then maybe he could speed up the process.
Peter slid the book into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and took off at a sprint. The thought of experimenting filled him with urgency—he was certain his house had some old science equipment tucked away somewhere.
When he finally arrived home, slightly out of breath, he headed straight for the garage. The air smelled faintly of dust and oil, and stacks of boxes lined the walls. He recognized one of them as holding Peter's old belongings.
Kneeling down, he began rummaging through the box. Each item he pulled out seemed to stir something within him—little flashes of memory, fragments of a life that wasn't entirely his. And then, at the bottom of the box, he found it: a small jar containing a clear, viscous substance aka web fluid.
"Huh? This makes little sense," Peter muttered, scratching his head as he held the jar up to the light.
It didn't take long for a faint flicker of memory to surface—a formula, incomplete and blurry, but enough to give him a sense of what it was.
'Wait, I'm sure there's a formula for this,' he thought, trying to piece it together. The fragments floated in his mind like pieces of a shattered mirror, sharp and disjointed. He blinked a few times, shaking his head as the realization hit him.
"This world really wants me to become Spider-Man," he muttered under his breath, a mix of amusement and disbelief coloring his voice.
He sighed, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Looks like I have a project to do, then."
Grabbing the jar, Peter made his way to his room. Once inside, he cleared his desk, spreading out sheets of paper as he began scribbling down the fragmented web fluid formula that had emerged in his mind.
"My world managed to recreate it," he muttered, tapping his pen against the table. "Maybe if I can copy this and combine it with what I remember..."
He paused, holding his chin thoughtfully. A sharp realization hit him. 'I don't know shit about creating this,' he admitted to himself.
The frustration was real—this was the first time he'd ever attempted something so complex with no actual knowledge or guidance.
"But I do remember," he said aloud, his voice steadying, "it's made of some kind of polymer."
Peter leaned back in his chair, staring at the notes. "I guess I need to learn more about polymers," he concluded, already considering where to begin his research.
Peter rifled through his collection of books, flipping through each one with growing frustration. Not a single one contained anything on polymers. Letting out a sigh, he decided there was only one place to go: the library. Grabbing his empty bag, he slung it over his shoulder and headed downstairs.
"Bye, Aunt May!" he called out as he opened the door.
Aunt May, sitting in the living room with her knitting, glanced up and smiled warmly. Peter leaving the house twice in one day was unusual. Normally, he'd stay holed up in his room, nose buried in experiments or schoolwork.
"Have fun, Peter," she said, her voice tinged with affection. She watched him go, the smile lingering on her face. Seeing him so eager for something always made her proud.
When Peter arrived at the library, he wasted no time heading to the science section. His eyes scanned the shelves until he spotted a book about polymers that looked promising. He reached for it, but just as his fingers brushed the spine, another hand grabbed it at the same time.
Startled, Peter glanced to his side and froze. Standing next to him was a blonde girl, her hair perfectly framed by a black headband. Her presence caught him off guard, and before he could stop himself, he muttered, "Gwen?"
The girl turned to him, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Do you know me?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.