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Ever since that fateful day when a great deal of New Yorkers, all at once, had their minds made hostage by a telepath, things have been… different.
Peter is sitting with MJ in the living room, while Ned is getting snacks from the kitchen. Apparently, the plan for tonight is to do a rewatch of Lord of the Rings. She isn’t completely disinterested.
“I’ve been getting these flashes in my head, you know?” Ned says, excitedly. “Like, I remember dropping my Death Star Lego set on the floor, and I wasn’t devastated, because… because… something else had my attention? Something way more important!”
“Ah…” Peter chuckles. “That was the day you found out I was Spider-Man.”
“No way! Did I find out? That’s sick!” he exclaims, setting down snacks on the coffee table.
“Well, yeah, to be fair, I was being really stupid.”
MJ can’t help but snort at that, and both boys look at her.
“What?”
“And you, MJ? Do you recall anything?” Ned asks.
She avoids their eyes, staring down at her doodles. Peter’s brown eyes had looked too sweet and hopeful for a second there, and she couldn’t stand it.
“No, not really,” MJ lies. She’s gotten bits and pieces here and there, but she’s not yet comfortable talking about it so openly like Ned.
“That’s a bummer…” Ned sighs, and MJ doesn’t dare look at what expression Peter has on right now.
It feels a bit sad and awkward for a minute. Uncharacteristically, she’s the one who attempts to break it. She gestures to the varied snacks on the table. “Do you like peanuts, Parker?”
“Sure, I—”
“Penis Parker!” Ned suddenly shouts.
Both Peter and MJ look at him as if he’s crazy.
“Penis Parker!” Ned repeats. “Of course! Penis Parker! I remember now!”
“Ah, I kinda wish you hadn’t remembered that.” Peter jokes.
Ned looks offended. “Dude, no. Too soon. Too soon.”
“No, yeah, you’re right. Sorry, my bad, man.”
.
Later that night, lying alone in bed, MJ recalls cussing Flash Thompson out in defense of some poor boy. She falls asleep just as she sees, in her mind’s eye, the admiring expression on the face of that boy.
-
Deep in her mind, MJ sees a frail-looking boy with glasses and fluffy hair. It’s as if she’s watching him from a distance. He laughs, and she looks over to the other boy by his side and sees Ned. He looks so… young. Her heart tugs, and she’s flooded by a sentiment of deep loneliness and yearning. She looks down and sees her hands, small and delicate holding a pencil. Her sketchbook is filled with drawings of the two boys she’s been watching. She looks to the side and catches her warped reflection on the window of the school’s cafeteria. She sees a young girl sitting alone.
“MJ? Hello?”
“Huh, what?” And suddenly she’s back in her apartment with Ned. Grown-up Ned.
“Dude, are you okay? You totally zoned out,” he says.
“Ah, it’s just, uh… a headache,” MJ replies. She’s trying to hold back any tears and her throat hurts. “What were you saying?”
“Okay…” He doesn’t seem convinced by her, but doesn’t insist. “What do you wanna order? I was thinking, maybe pizza?”
MJ swallows. “Sounds good to me.”
.
Later, when they’re eating, she lets Ned have the last slice.
“Are you sure?” he asks, a bit too incredulous, and MJ is almost offended.
“Yeah, go ahead,” she replies, voice a bit too fond. It’s just that right now she can’t help but see that young boy in the back of her mind. Her good friend has grown up so well. She wishes she remembered more.
MJ lovingly pets his head as she gets up to put her plate in the dishwasher.
“Okay, what is that? You’re creeping me out, MJ.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “Shut up, loser.”
Ned’s eyebrows furrow, connecting the dots of something in his head.
-
MJ arrives home late. Her boyfriend had suggested for her to spend the night, but she really didn’t feel like it. She bolted before he could call her “withholding”, which in retrospect really does makes her seem withholding.
The thing is, MJ can’t shake the image of that young boy in glasses out of her head, and in turn, she also can’t stop thinking about that young girl in the warped reflection of a window. Who was she? It turns out, it’s really difficult to be present when you’re having some sort of identity crisis.
To make things even better, just as MJ steps into her living room, she hears a sound coming from the window. It seems a spider is trying to get in.
“Ned’s not home,” she tells Peter as soon as he pulls off his mask, before he can even properly greet her.
“Oh…”
“Did he not tell you?” MJ asks, keeping a curt tone. She’s not against “making new memories” as Ned had put it, but sometimes it’s really hard to just see him. He has a bruise on his face.
“No… I just… I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d swing by,” Peter replies, a bit meekly, like he can sense her discontentment. “I guess I should’ve texted first.”
“He’s at his lola’s house.”
“Oh. Is she alright?”
“She’s fine. He’s just visiting.”
“Right…” Peter looks back to the window where he came from and then to her, uncertain. “MJ… Am I—”
“Did you use to wear glasses when you were younger?”
“What?”
“Did you?”
“… Yeah, a really long time ago.”
MJ nods. “And were we… together, or friends during that time?”
Peter’s eyebrows furrow. “No… I didn’t know you back then.”
“But I did…” she whispers.
“What do you mean?”
MJ looks at his confused expression and she’s so angry. It dawns on her that she was robbed of more than just the memories of her high school boyfriend. It goes way back for her. Does he not know? That she used to watch him even way back when? Would that lonely, teenage girl be embarrassed if she were to confess this to him now? MJ doesn’t want to embarrass her.
“I’ve been recalling some things.”
“Oh.”
“And I really want to slap you right now.”
Peter takes a breath, nods and steps closer in offering. MJ raises her hand and he doesn’t flinch. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Spider-Man. She also thinks it’s because he’s Peter Parker, and he did offer himself to be berated and so he will fulfill his duty, no backing down. He’s honorable like that, and it’s that thought, that it’s Peter, that softens her. When her hand touches his face, it doesn’t make a sound. She caresses the red bruise on his cheekbone, and he lets out a quick, sharp gasp as if he had actually been hit. At that sound, MJ pulls her hand away, thinking she’s being cruel, crueler than if she had simply slapped him.
MJ takes a step back and clears her throat. Peter shakes his head, much like a puppy, trying to slip out of whatever spell he seemed to be in. It’s incredibly endearing, and this is so, so hard.
“I should, uh…” Peter gestures to the window. “I should probably leave.”
“Yeah, sure,” she quickly replies. “It’s late.”
Just before he leaps from her window though, he looks back. “If you… if you ever feel like you need to slap me again… feel free to do so. I don’t mind.”
MJ understands what he’s trying to say, in this roundabout way. That it’s okay if she’s still mad at him, if she hasn’t forgiven him yet. He will take it. And he looks so sincere as he says it, his voice is so soft, and it’s like he’s pinning her in place with those doe eyes. It’s almost unbearable.
“Is Spider-Man some sort of masochist?” MJ smirks, completely swerving his sincerity, like it’s for survival. “You know, I did read some theories about this on the internet.”
“H-hey! It’s not like that, and you know it!” Peter stutters as his face begins to turn red. It really is his color.
“And here I assumed you were such a good boy, Parker… who would’ve thought?”
“Wait, so… you’ve been thinking about me like that, huh?” he retorts, with a grin on his face.
MJ is left speechless for a brief moment. For whatever reason, she hadn’t expected him to talk back. As if she had known him to be too shy or awkward to actually do it. Which was a mistake, she doesn’t really know him.
“Yeah, yeah, right.” MJ rolls her eyes, making an attempt at nonchalance. “You’re New York’s most eligible bachelor or whatever. Now go home.”
Peter pulls his mask on as he grumbles something unintelligible in protest. Probably something about not being a sad, lonely man, she’s sure.
“Bye bye, Spider-Lord”, she sings in a mocking tone as he swings away.
After she’s sure he’s gone, MJ descends onto the couch with a big huff. Her face is so warm, her heart is beating fast, and she wonders if he somehow could sense it.
I’m fucked, MJ thinks.