Chapter 16: A Normal Day, Sort Of
Midtown High moved at its usual pace—busy, noisy, but nothing surprising. Students filled the halls between classes, laughing, complaining about homework, or swapping weekend plans.
Somewhere in the middle of the flow, Peter Parker walked through the corridor, blending in but somehow standing apart.
---
Gwen Stacy's POV
From near her locker, Gwen watched Peter as he passed by.
She couldn't quite explain it, but there was something different about him these days.
He didn't look stressed. He wasn't hunched over, carrying the weight of everything on his shoulders like before.
Instead, he moved with this… calmness.
She watched as he walked right through the crowd, unbothered by the noise or the chatter around him.
Gwen tilted her head slightly.
" Parker?" she thought, a small, curious smile forming. "Something's definitely changed."
---
Harry Osborn's POV
Harry leaned against the lockers nearby, arms crossed, watching Peter out of the corner of his eye.
He had known Peter for years, and he couldn't ignore it either.
It wasn't something you could point out right away. It was in the little things.
The way Peter didn't shrink back when others passed him in the hall.
The way his eyes seemed sharper, more aware.
Harry exhaled quietly, narrowing his gaze.
"Feels like he's ahead of the rest of us… even if he's not showing it."
---
Flash Thompson's POV
Flash Thompson wasn't so subtle about it.
He glared from across the hall, gripping his notebook tighter.
"What's with Parker lately?" Flash muttered under his breath.
He wasn't used to Peter acting like this.
No stammering, no slipping over his own words.
No quick glances around like he was waiting for the next shove.
Instead, Peter walked around like nothing touched him.
And that got under Flash's skin.
---
The lunchroom gave Flash his chance.
Peter sat at his usual spot near the window, quietly eating and reading a science magazine.
Flash's footsteps were loud on purpose as he made his way over.
"Hey, Parker," Flash said, his voice carrying through the cafeteria.
Peter barely looked up.
Flash slammed his hand down on the table.
"You've been walking around like you own the place," Flash continued, eyes narrowing.
Peter glanced up, his expression calm and steady.
"Is there a problem?" Peter asked, setting his spoon down.
That simple question, spoken without any trace of fear, made Flash pause.
"You think you're better than everyone else now?" Flash pressed, his tone sharper.
Peter's gaze didn't waver.
"I don't think anything," Peter replied evenly. "I just stopped worrying about pointless stuff."
Some students nearby snickered softly.
Flash's face twitched, his pride taking a hit.
Peter picked up his tray without rushing.
"If you're done," Peter added as he stood, "I've got better things to do."
He walked away, leaving Flash standing at the table, fists clenched but frozen in place.
---
After School
---
Classes finished soon after, and Peter made his way to the university's lab.
Inside, the lab was as quiet and familiar as always—papers stacked neatly, the hum of machines filling the air.
Dr. Curt Connors looked up from his desk, a small smile forming.
"Peter, right on time," Connors said, waving him in.
Peter set down his bag, his posture relaxed.
"Sorry I missed the last few sessions," Peter said as he rolled up his sleeves.
Connors chuckled lightly. "Don't worry. I figured you had your hands full."
He gestured toward the microscope, motioning for Peter to take a look.
"Tell me what you see."
Peter leaned in, adjusting the focus. His enhanced sight made spotting details second nature now.
"Unstable regeneration," Peter noted after a few seconds. "The cells multiply rapidly, but they collapse after a few cycles."
Connors raised a brow, impressed.
"You spotted that fast."
Peter shrugged with a small, modest smile. "It's starting to get easier."
They spent the next hour working together, swapping ideas as Peter sketched out some formulas and Connors refined the samples.
Their pace was steady, comfortable, as if they'd worked together for years.
Connors glanced at him now and then, quietly impressed by how naturally Peter handled the work.
---
Evening
---
By the time Peter walked through the door at home, the sun had already dipped below the horizon. The soft, familiar smells of Aunt May's cooking filled the air—roasted chicken, fresh bread, and something sweet baking in the oven.
"Peter? That you?" Aunt May called from the kitchen, her voice as warm as ever.
"Yeah, it's me," Peter replied, slipping off his shoes by the door and setting his backpack down near the coat rack.
Uncle Ben peeked over the top of his newspaper from the living room, a slight grin tugging at his lips.
"You're cutting it close, son. We almost started without you," Ben teased, folding the paper neatly and setting it aside.
Peter chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry. Dr. Connors needed some extra help," Peter said as he walked into the kitchen.
Aunt May turned from the stove, her expression softening as she gave him a quick once-over, as mothers often did.
"Busy day, then?" she asked, setting down a dish of green beans on the table.
Peter smiled, his voice easy. "You could say that."
Uncle Ben pulled out a chair and motioned for Peter to sit. "Well, let's feed you before you go saving the world with those books of yours."
Peter gave a quiet laugh as he took his seat, amused by how close Ben was—without even knowing it.
The three of them gathered around the table, hands moving with familiar rhythm—passing plates, pouring drinks, sharing space in the way that only a family could.
"Tell me you at least remembered to eat lunch today," Aunt May said, eyeing Peter as she spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate.
Peter grinned slightly. "I did. Sort of."
"Sort of?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"I had food," Peter replied vaguely, trying not to think about the awkward cafeteria moment with Flash.
Uncle Ben chuckled, reaching for the breadbasket. "He's a growing boy, May. He probably burns off lunch before last period even starts."
Peter smirked at that, knowing how right Uncle Ben unknowingly was.
As they ate, the conversation flowed easily—Uncle Ben sharing a story about a stubborn customer at the hardware store, Aunt May mentioning a neighbor's new garden project, and Peter quietly enjoying the comfortable rhythm of their voices.
"So," Ben asked as he carved a piece of chicken, "anything interesting happen at school?"
Peter glanced up, his fork pausing midair.
For a moment, he thought of the stares in the hallway, Flash's failed attempt to bully him, the way even his teachers were starting to notice his changes.
But he kept it simple.
"Nothing big," Peter said with a small smile, playing it off. "Same old stuff."
Uncle Ben's eyes twinkled knowingly.
"You've always been a terrible liar," Ben teased lightly.
Aunt May smiled too, but she didn't press him.
"Well," she said kindly, "as long as you're doing alright. You've seemed… a little different lately."
Peter's heart softened at her words, but he kept his smile steady.
"Just… growing up, I guess," he replied, his tone gentle.
Aunt May reached over and gave his hand a quick squeeze.
"Don't grow up too fast," she said fondly. "We're not in any rush to lose our Peter."
Peter's chest tightened just slightly, warmth blooming beneath the surface.
"Don't worry, Aunt May," he said quietly. "I'm still here."
They finished dinner together, the room filled with the soft clatter of dishes and the quiet hum of the evening settling in.
And for Peter, surrounded by the people he loved most, it felt like the one place where everything was still simple.
---
[End of Chapter]
---