In front of the house, all that remained was Aunt May's lonely silhouette and the mess left behind.
Peter did his best to keep his emotions under control, but his heart was pounding wildly. In that moment, he felt scared and lost.
He had always known Aunt May would grow old.
He just had never imagined she would age this much.
Of course.
She had lost her husband at forty-three, then lost her only nephew in her fifties. Fate had already worn this strong woman down beyond recognition.
"You look nervous, Peter..."
Spider-Man Noir said it with a teasing tone, though he was just as tense himself.
"And you've got the nerve to say that to me?!"
"I'm excited. I finally get to see Aunt May again..."
There was a trace of sadness in Noir's voice.
In his world, during the dark years of the Great Depression, his youthful recklessness had led to Uncle Ben's death. Later, he was bitten by a spider and became Spider-Man, fighting evil wherever he could.
But that era had belonged to the wicked.
He had made too many enemies, and in the end, kind-hearted Aunt May had also died to an enemy's gun because of his recklessness. The deaths of Uncle Ben and Aunt May were wounds he would carry for the rest of his life.
"Peter... Saying it like that feels weird, so forget it. Brother, let me tell you this from experience. Don't be too reckless. Otherwise both Uncle Ben and Aunt May will get hurt because of your recklessness. Your Uncle Ben..."
"He's fine. I killed the criminal. I won't allow anyone to threaten the people around me. Even if you don't understand that, I don't care."
"You really are something... If only I could've been more like you."
Spider-Man Noir laughed at himself, but still gave Peter a thumbs-up.
"Peter, you're different from the Peter of this world. He was always saying..."
"With great power comes great responsibility," Peter and Spider-Man Noir said at the same time.
Then Peter smiled.
"That's what Uncle Ben taught me. I'll never forget it."
"Alright, people, let's go. I know this place very well."
Stretching lazily, Peter smiled.
"What do you mean people? And I know this place pretty well too, okay?"
Mary Jane said with a helpless look.
Complain as she might, the three of them still quietly circled around and slipped in through the backyard. Even if Peter had already dealt with one group of idiots, who knew whether that crafty fat bastard Kingpin had more people hidden nearby?
The backyard was not large, but it had been taken care of well. There was a small patch of lawn, a lawnmower set off in one corner, and a little shed on the other side that was probably meant for storage. The only strange thing was that the lawnmower had not been put back inside.
Peter knew why.
That had always been Uncle Ben's habit, and Aunt May used to argue with him about it all the time. Of course, it had only ever been the kind of playful bickering that comes from years of marriage.
Maybe after Uncle Ben died in this world, Aunt May had picked up the same habit herself, as if he were still alive.
Standing in front of the back door, both Peter Parkers lost their nerve and stopped. They looked at each other, each silently urging the other to knock.
Seeing the two of them acting so awkward, Mary Jane rubbed her forehead and knocked on the door herself.
Two grown men, completely hopeless.
Knock, knock, knock.
The house stayed quiet.
After a long moment, footsteps slowly approached from inside.
They were light, obviously deliberately softened.
But with the heightened senses of both Peter and Spider-Man Noir, there was no way they could miss them.
"Who is it? It's too late. If you want an interview or something, come back tomorrow," Aunt May's voice called from inside.
Peter cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and finally forced himself to speak.
"Aunt May, it's me. I'm Peter. I know this sounds impossible, but I really am Peter Parker. I can prove it..."
"So you're making fun of an old woman now, is that it?! My Peter is gone. No matter how well you imitate his voice, you are not my Peter."
Aunt May's aged voice was full of sorrow, but there was anger mixed into it too.
What did these people want from her?
Why, after Peter was gone, did all these strangers suddenly keep appearing just to torment her?
"Aunt May, your bacon rolls really are terrible."
"I stopped making those a long time ago!"
"Aunt May, with great power comes great responsibility..."
"Everyone knows that line now!"
"Mary Jane, say something! Help me out here!"
Peter turned to the side, asking the thoroughly entertained Mary Jane for help.
"Aunt May, he really is Peter!"
"Oh, wonderful! Now you've even found someone to imitate Mary Jane too. You people really are dedicated. Even if your voice impressions are perfect, you still are not my Peter! Go away! I'm not accepting any interviews!"
Aunt May's answer left Peter silent for a moment.
But he still refused to give up.
"Aunt May, I can prove it. Look..."
Peter pulled off his mask, revealing the face of a seventeen-year-old boy.
He tried to smile, but thinking of everything this version of Aunt May had been through, the expression looked worse than crying.
Clang.
Thud, thud, thud.
Something metallic hit the floor.
The door was yanked open, and a baseball bat rolled out, bouncing down a step before Peter shot out a web line and caught it.
But why did this bat look so familiar?
Wasn't this the exact same one Mary Jane used to chase him with back in middle school?
Holding the bat, Peter slowly turned to look at Mary Jane.
She awkwardly turned her head away, glanced up at the pitch-black sky with neither moon nor stars, and said for no reason at all, "The sun's really bright tonight."
"You're unbelievable. Giving Aunt May this thing for self-defense? I almost got clubbed with it."
Peter gritted his teeth, and it was obvious how much resentment he still felt toward that baseball bat.
And then, at that moment, a thin, aged body threw itself into his arms and began trembling.
"Peter... It's my Peter. It really is."
Peter stiffened at first.
But very quickly, as if he had felt his own Aunt May's warmth from this one too, he gently hugged her back.
In every world, Aunt May loved Peter Parker.
And in every world, Peter Parker loved Aunt May just as deeply.
The group entered the house and quietly shut the backyard door behind them.
Looking at the aged Aunt May of this world, Peter's eyes grew red. Beside him, Spider-Man Noir took off his mask too and stared at her with visible emotion.
Aunt May reached out and touched the face of the other Peter Parker as well. This one had a scar across his face, clearly from some old injury he had taken in battle.
"Aunt May, I really am your Peter... but I'm also from another universe. The Peter beside me is too. I know it sounds strange, but I'm not lying. You know Peter would never lie to Aunt May."
Peter helped Aunt May to the couch.
Only after feeling the familiar atmosphere of the house around him did his mind finally begin to relax.
"I know. You're Peter from high school, and he's Peter after growing up. You two must have suffered a lot. No one gets to be Spider-Man without getting hurt..."
Spider-Man Noir said nothing.
Peter gently hugged Aunt May and said softly, "Don't be sad, Aunt May. Death isn't the end. Being forgotten is. As long as someone remembers Spider-Man, then Peter Parker hasn't truly died."
Peter himself did not know why those words came out of him.
It felt almost as if he had lost control for a second and someone else had spoken through him.
But it was a good line.
Death isn't the end.
Being forgotten is.
(End of Chapter)
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