Lost But Found

Chapter 9

The next morning, Peter woke up refreshed, in his new room in the Sanctum. The early morning noises of traffic and people came from the outside, slightly dulled. Everything felt normal. It was if Peter had woken up in a new life.

Sunlight poured in through the windows as Peter pushed the curtains aside. He brushed his teeth, got out of his PJs, and headed downstairs for breakfast. He was greeted by Stephen, and sat down next to him at a table where Wong and Mordo also sat.

"So, got anything to do today?" Stephen asked him.

Peter just sat there, thinking about the question as he chewed on his toast. For once, he could actually think about what to do without worrying about anything else. He could go somewhere. Do something. Do whatever he wanted to.

"I think I'll go for a walk," he said. "Maybe bring the groceries back too." He couldn't really think of anything else to do. It was sad, he thought. He couldn't say he wanted to go chill at a friend's house—he didn't have any friends his age.

"Alright, I understand," Stephen said. He stood up and left the table. "Wong, we have some work to do. Mordo, you come too."

As the adults discussed something, Peter may have accidentally eavesdropped. The multiverse? Splitting apart? Wanda Maximoff? Whatever. It wasn't his problem to deal with...for now.

He stepped out of the Sanctum, then decided he would walk to and back from Washington Square Park—closer to him than Central Park. He passed people on the street, none of them knowing or caring about his identity. A stark change from a few weeks ago.

He passed a homeless man, gave him some money, petted a few dogs that passed him by. He felt good.

As he finally entered the park, he put in his earbuds and started playing music. Out of danger from cars on the street, he didn't need to listen for danger. However, that plan backfired when something crashed into him from behind. He landed almost face first, caught only by his arms sticking out in front of him.

"I'm so sorry!" a young male voice said from behind him. "Lemme help you up." Peter turned around and took the guy's hand as he pulled him up.

"That was my bad," he said. "I was looking at my phone while skateboarding. Guess I won't do that again!" He was tall, had brown skin, and black, curly hair. He had a pair of headphones around his neck, wore a plain white T-shirt, and wore jeans busted at the knees.

"No problem," Peter said. "That was my fault too. I was blasting my music and I didn't hear you coming."

"Oh, you like listening to music too?" the guy said. "Dang, all my other friends are more interested in video games than they are in listening to music."

"I'm Peter, by the way," Peter said, extending a hand to shake. "Peter Parker."

"I'm Miles Morales," the guy said, shaking his hand. "What grade are you in?"

"I'm about to graduate high school," Peter said, lying. He wasn't enrolled at Midtown anymore--oh well.

"Oh cool! I'm a junior. At Brooklyn Visions," Miles said. "Where you from? Brooklyn? Queens?"

"I grew up in Queens, but I live here in Greenwich now," Peter replied. He was astounded at the friendliness Miles was showing him.

"Hey, you good man?" Miles asked, cringing. "You sound quiet. Am I talking too much? I am talking too much." It was if he was annoyed with himself

"No, no," Peter said. "It's just that...I don't have many friends, and...you're the first person who's shown me friendliness in a long time."

Miles looked him in the eye, almost understandingly. "Yeah, I know the feeling. I had a friend too, but she...she moved away. I haven't seen her in a while."

Peter nodded, sympathetically. He stood there in awkward silence. "Hey man, I gotta go," Miles said, breaking the silence. "You wanna trade phone numbers, or..?"

"Yeah, sure," Peter said. They traded. Miles promised to text him later. They could meet up for coffee later, he offered. Peter said he might join. And with that, he had made himself a new friend.

He walked around the city for the rest of the morning, picking up the groceries, doing little errands here and there. He bought a sandwich for lunch at the corner deli next to the Sanctum before heading back. When he entered, it was quiet--the three sorcerers were probably off doing sorcerer work. He set down the groceries on the table, then headed up to the roof.

He sat down in a swinging bench that had a little roof over it to protect from the heat and glare of the sun beating down. He finished his sandwich, swinging the bench a little bit, kicking his feet back and forth. Was this how peaceful life was supposed to be?

He put his earbuds in his ears to blast his music again. The sounds of the music kicked in, drowning the noises of the city. He fell asleep, laying back, as the sun beat down on him. 

The music swelled to a crescendo as his eyes closed.