The next morning came too fast.
Rob Jones woke up before his alarm, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like he'd been doing that his whole life instead of just recently. For a few quiet seconds, he didn't know where he was—or rather, he knew too well.
Apartment. Ceiling crack shaped like a lightning bolt. Fan still clicking every rotation.
Present timeline.
He sat up slowly and stretched, joints popping in a way that felt far too adult for someone his age.
"New day," Rob murmured, voice light. "New… everything."
He showered, dressed, ate something small, and kept the smile on his face like a reflex. By the time he stepped outside and headed toward school, he looked like any other student starting another unremarkable weekday.
Inside, the others followed.
Jax hummed some nonsensical tune only Rob could hear, spinning lazily somewhere near his shoulder. Ariel was quiet this morning, wings tucked close, her usual irritation replaced with something more watchful. Isi hovered at the back of Rob's awareness, silent and constant, feeding him tiny, unobtrusive updates about time, distance, and emotional spikes.
Midtown High rose up ahead of him, brick and glass and banners advertising clubs he didn't belong to.
Rob paused at the doors.
For just a second, his chest tightened.
Another school.
Another world.
Still standing.
He pushed inside.
Midtown High was loud in the specific way only a big city school could be—crowded but efficient, chaotic but familiar. Hallways overflowed with students moving like currents in opposite directions, voices bouncing off lockers and tile.
Rob navigated it easily, slipping into step with his friends without even thinking about it. They talked about a quiz coming up, about some dumb argument online, about winter break plans that all sounded tentative and half-formed.
Rob listened.
Smiled.
Responded at the right times.
And felt like he was watching himself do it from a few feet away.
That feeling sharpened when he saw him.
Peter Parker stood near the lockers by the science wing, hunched slightly under the weight of his backpack, fingers moving too fast as he tried to juggle books, notes, and a phone all at once.
Fresh-faced.
Awkward.
Alive.
Rob's steps slowed without him meaning to.
Peter laughed nervously at something one of his classmates said, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand. There was no anger in his eyes. No haunted edge. No grim focus that never slept.
Just… a kid.
A good kid.
Rob's stomach twisted.
Spider-Man, a part of his mind supplied automatically.
He knew that face.
He knew it bloodied. Hollow. Streaked with red that wasn't always his own.
He knew Peter Parker as a man who had lost too much and responded by tearing himself apart trying to save what was left.
In another reality.
In a future that didn't exist anymore.
Rob felt two emotions collide inside him, sharp and incompatible.
Understanding.
Resentment.
He understood why Peter had done what he'd done. The experiments. The tests. The desperate, horrifying calculus of sacrificing hundreds to maybe save millions.
Rob had been there.
He'd eaten the world.
But resentment still burned, quiet and persistent.
Because Peter hadn't stopped.
Because Peter hadn't known when to let go.
Because Rob had seen what that obsession turned him into.
Rob closed his eyes briefly and breathed.
Not this Peter.
This Peter was still just a kid who stayed up too late doing homework and worried about rent he didn't have to pay yet. This Peter laughed too easily and apologized too often.
This Peter didn't deserve Rob's ghosts.
"Hey, Rob!"
Peter spotted him and waved, nearly dropping his books in the process.
Rob's smile came easily—too easily.
"Hey," Rob said, stepping closer. "Careful. Gravity's undefeated."
Peter snorted. "Tell that to my backpack. I swear it weighs more every day."
They walked together for a bit, conversation sliding into place like it had always been there. Peter talked about a project due in chemistry, about how he thought he messed up one of the equations even though Rob could tell at a glance that he hadn't.
Rob nodded along, offering encouragement, keeping his tone warm and normal.
Inside, he cataloged everything.
Peter's posture.
His breathing.
The way his eyes flicked instinctively toward movement.
He could already see the potential.
That scared him more than anything.
"So," Peter said, glancing sideways, "you've been, uh… killing it lately. Tests, I mean. Kinda making the rest of us look bad."
Rob laughed. "Not my intention, I promise."
"Seriously," Peter said, smiling. "It's cool though. Nice to see someone actually enjoying school."
Rob hesitated.
Enjoying.
"That's one word for it," he said lightly.
The bell rang, sharp and insistent.
They split off for class, Peter jogging ahead with a quick wave.
"Later, Rob!"
"Yeah," Rob said. "Later."
He watched Peter disappear into the crowd.
Jax popped into view at his side, upside down, hands clasped behind his head. "Wowww," he whispered dramatically. "That one's complicated."
Rob didn't answer.
Ariel appeared a moment later, hovering near his shoulder. "You're being careful," she said, not quite accusing.
"I have to be," Rob replied quietly. "He hasn't done anything wrong."
"Yet," Ariel muttered.
Rob shot her a look.
She looked away, scowling.
Isi sent a gentle pulse of information—emotional stability within acceptable parameters. No immediate risk.
Rob exhaled.
Classes passed in a blur.
Rob answered questions when called on, solved problems with ease, and kept his head down when teachers praised him. He didn't push. Didn't show off.
He didn't want attention.
At lunch, he sat with his friends again, food carefully chosen, movements precise. Someone made a joke about zombies in a movie trailer they'd seen, and Rob's fork paused halfway to his mouth.
The laugh he forced out felt brittle.
No one noticed.
They rarely did.
Across the cafeteria, Peter sat with a different group, animatedly explaining something with wild hand gestures. Rob caught himself watching.
In another life, he thought, you were covered in blood and calling it progress.
The thought made his chest ache.
Rob looked away.
The rest of the day unfolded without incident.
By the time the final bell rang, Rob felt drained in the way that had nothing to do with effort. Emotional exhaustion clung to him, heavy and dull.
As he walked out of the building, bundled students scattering into the cold afternoon air, Peter caught up to him again.
"Hey," Peter said, jogging to his side. "You heading home?"
"Yeah."
"Same. Well—mostly. Gotta swing by the bodega first."
Rob nodded. "Figures."
They walked together in companionable silence for a bit.
Peter glanced at him, hesitant. "Hey, uh… can I ask you something?"
Rob's shoulders tensed imperceptibly. "Sure."
"You ever feel like," Peter said slowly, "you know things you shouldn't?"
Rob's heart skipped.
Peter scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Like… not in a creepy way. Just—sometimes it feels like everyone else is on page one, and I'm flipping ahead by accident."
Rob studied him carefully.
This Peter didn't know.
Not yet.
And Rob wasn't going to be the one to change that.
"Yeah," Rob said after a moment. "I think… everyone feels that way sometimes."
Peter smiled, relieved. "Guess I'm not alone then."
"No," Rob said quietly. "You're not."
They reached the corner where their paths diverged.
Peter waved. "See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Rob echoed.
As Peter walked away, Rob stood there a second longer, watching him go.
Understanding pressed in.
Resentment simmered beneath it.
And beneath both—
Resolve.
The future wasn't fixed.
And Rob Jones wasn't going to let it repeat itself.