[For all of Peterβs propensity to show his growing anxieties on the outside, Stephen keeps his tethered down within; but it exists. For all intents and purposes, they broke the multiverse β no, whoβs he kidding? He did, the caster of the spell itself, letting people (read: troublemakers. He knows the implication.) and various versions of Peter Parker slip through the cracks. The consequences will come for that, whether or not they managed to slap a band-aid on the problem for now.
(The bill always comes due, a man once considered a friend told him. The words crawl along the edges of his mind like an ever-present shadow.)
Why? Why would he have made that executive decision, knowing the risk? The question lances through him like a shard of ice, self-deprecating, but itβs transient. It dries up, dies, and fades away, because looking at the young man before him, he knows the answer.
Peter Parker, Spider-Man. A young kid having taken up the mantle of superhero, taking down street level crime and aliens from the far reaches of the universe seeking to destroy half of all life alike. Burdened with so much, guaranteed to lose more. Trying to balance two lives, when itβs impossible to straddle the line β Stephen cannot imagine trying to do the same.
Even without having made the decision yet, he knows. He knows that he took the risk because Peter deserved it, and that life needed to cut him a break, because they would come so very few and far in-between.]
Peter.
[He starts, lowly. Imagining the weight of having everyone who remembered you now lost, their connection severed through non-recollection. How that must feel to a young man who just admitted to a semblance of loneliness.
Stephen realizes, maybe a little too belatedly, that despite all thatβs been said, he didnβt do him a favor.]
no subject
(The bill always comes due, a man once considered a friend told him. The words crawl along the edges of his mind like an ever-present shadow.)
Why? Why would he have made that executive decision, knowing the risk? The question lances through him like a shard of ice, self-deprecating, but itβs transient. It dries up, dies, and fades away, because looking at the young man before him, he knows the answer.
Peter Parker, Spider-Man. A young kid having taken up the mantle of superhero, taking down street level crime and aliens from the far reaches of the universe seeking to destroy half of all life alike. Burdened with so much, guaranteed to lose more. Trying to balance two lives, when itβs impossible to straddle the line β Stephen cannot imagine trying to do the same.
Even without having made the decision yet, he knows. He knows that he took the risk because Peter deserved it, and that life needed to cut him a break, because they would come so very few and far in-between.]
Peter.
[He starts, lowly. Imagining the weight of having everyone who remembered you now lost, their connection severed through non-recollection. How that must feel to a young man who just admitted to a semblance of loneliness.
Stephen realizes, maybe a little too belatedly, that despite all thatβs been said, he didnβt do him a favor.]
Iβm sorry.
[Frowning, he sincerely, truly, means it.]