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Atop the rooftop of Hell's kitchen, the city was oddly quiet, but Peters heart was pounding like a bird stuck in a cage. They had just busted a low-level grooming ring, nothing flashy, no capes, just human filth.
Matt stood a few feet away, his head tilted. "Your heart rate hasn't dropped since we left the building, Peter. The adrenaline should have leveled off ten minutes ago."
Peter stayed perched on the ledge, his knees pulled tight to his chest. "I’m fine, Matt. Just... caffeine. You know? Big gulp, bad choices."
"You're lying," Matt said, his voice soft, but firm. "You smell like cold sweat and old fear. And everytime I move my hand toward your shoulder, your muscles lock up like you're preparing for a hit that isnt coming."
Peter went still. The silence of the city was deafening.
"I was twelve," Peter whispered. "Before the spider. Before the 'great power.' There was a guy, Skip. Posed as my babysitter. He... he took me places. He told me it was our secret."
He finally looked at Matt, though the white lenses of his mask hid his eyes. "I spent years thinking the Spider-Sense was a gift to keep me safe. But sometimes I think I’ve been vibrating with that same warning since I was a kid. I just didn't have a name for it back then."
Matt didn't offer a platitude. He didn't say 'I'm sorry.' He simply sat down on the gravel of the roof, leaving a respectful distance between them. "You think the power makes you untouchable now," Matt noted. "But the kid is still in there, isn't he? Wondering why he couldn't fight back before he had the muscles to do it."
"Every time I stop someone like him," Peter said, his voice cracking, "I'm trying to reach back in time and pull myself out of that spot. But I'm still there, Matt. I'm always still there."
