The next morning, Queens stirred to its usual rhythm—cars honking with unnecessary urgency, street vendors setting up with their habitual grumbling, and the city's pulse thumping steadily as if it had never skipped a beat.
But Peter Parker felt it.
Something had shifted.
It wasn't the city.
It was Aaron.
Across the kitchen table, Aaron sat with his usual calm demeanor, spooning cereal into his mouth while his eyes occasionally flicked toward the apartment window. It was subtle. Precise. But Peter wasn't blind.
Most days, Aaron's focus was on his textbooks, or occasionally on Peter's ramblings about Spider-Man theories. Today, his attention wasn't inside this apartment. It was scanning through glass, watching something that wasn't there.
"You're gonna burn a hole through the window if you keep staring like that," Peter quipped, forcing a grin as he poured milk into his own bowl.
Aaron didn't miss a beat. "Glass doesn't burn, Peter."
"Yeah, but your brain might overheat," Peter shot back.
Aunt May, humming in the kitchen, didn't notice the tension between the lines. She was too busy packing their lunchboxes, her usual loving scolds about Peter's messy room filling the background.
But Peter noticed.
Aaron's responses were clipped. Efficient. His words filled the space, but his mind was somewhere else.
Peter wasn't sure where.
As they stepped out into the cool morning air, the city greeted them with its typical rush. People shuffled by, faces down, minds busy with everything except the people around them.
Peter glanced sideways at Aaron as they walked.
Normally, their route to school was filled with Peter's rambling about science projects, new tech articles, or whatever Spider-Man did last night. Aaron would listen in his own way—silent, but present.
Today, Aaron was ahead. Physically and mentally.
"You know, you're walking ten feet ahead of me like some movie bodyguard," Peter said, catching up with a slight jog. "Something you wanna tell me, Aaron?"
Aaron's gaze remained forward. "No."
Peter frowned. That wasn't the usual sarcastic 'no' Aaron gave. It was flat. Calculated.
"Okay, you're officially in weird territory," Peter muttered, trying to keep his tone light. "Is this some advanced focus technique I should know about? Did you finally crack quantum meditation?"
"Peter."
The way Aaron said his name made Peter stop. Not because it was angry. But because it was a warning. A quiet, deliberate line drawn.
Peter slowed his pace, falling into step beside him. "Look, man, I'm not trying to pry. But you're… different. Distracted. And don't give me the 'I'm always like this' line. I know you. Something's up."
Aaron's steps didn't falter. His eyes scanned a passing bus window, watching the reflections.
"Focus on school, Peter. That's what you're good at."
Peter's jaw tightened. "And you're good at shutting people out. But you suck at hiding it."
Aaron didn't reply.
The silence followed them into the school gates.
In the hallway, the noise of lockers slamming and teenage chaos tried to drown the tension, but Peter felt it like a weight on his shoulders.
MJ was leaning against their usual spot by the lockers, watching them with her ever-present smirk. "Wow. You two look like you just walked out of a mafia negotiation."
Ned appeared beside her, oblivious as always. "What's up, guys? Did you hear about the new Spider-Man sighting in Brooklyn last night?"
Peter forced a grin. "No, but I'm sure you'll give me every detail."
MJ's gaze flicked between Aaron and Peter. She wasn't fooled. She didn't push, though.
Aaron's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then pocketed it without reaction.
Peter stepped closer. "Norman Osborn asked about you yesterday."
That got a reaction.
Aaron's eyes met his for a brief second, sharp and unreadable. "Did he?"
"Yeah," Peter said, studying him. "He mentioned you by name. Said the Parker family had a knack for brilliance."
Aaron's face didn't change, but Peter wasn't stupid. That flicker of tension—the tightening around Aaron's jaw—Peter caught it.
Peter expected him to ask questions. To react.
Aaron didn't.
"That doesn't surprise me," Aaron said simply, closing his locker with precise efficiency. "Oscorp tracks academic records. It's public data."
Peter's patience frayed. "Okay, seriously, man. You're acting like a robot. If something's going on, you need to tell me."
Aaron turned to him, his gaze calm but edged.
"I need you to focus on your life, Peter. Not mine."
That stung.
Peter's grin faltered. "That's not how this works, Aaron. You don't get to pull the 'lone wolf' act. We're family. You and me. Aunt May. We don't do solo battles."
MJ raised an eyebrow, but stayed out of it. Ned was still rambling about superhero theories to himself.
Aaron's gaze softened. Barely. But Peter caught it.
"I know," Aaron said quietly. "But sometimes, you have to choose which battles to share."
Peter frowned. "And who decides that? You?"
Aaron didn't answer.
The rest of the school day passed in a blur.
Peter went through the motions — class, assignments, group work — but his mind kept circling back to Aaron. His brother wasn't just being his usual quiet self. He was guarding something. Walling it off.
By the time the final bell rang, Peter had made up his mind.
As they packed up, Peter glanced at Aaron. "You know I'm not gonna drop this, right?"
Aaron zipped his bag calmly. "I know."
"Good."
But Aaron's next words were quiet. Measured.
"I also know you'll do it your way. Which is why I'm doing it mine."
Peter stared at him.
For the first time, Peter realized Aaron wasn't being cold to push him away.
He was doing it to protect him.
And Peter hated how much that made sense.
That evening, as they walked home, the space between them felt heavier than the backpacks on their shoulders.
Peter didn't know what the threat was.
But Aaron did.
And Aaron had already decided Peter wouldn't be part of the crossfire.
Peter wasn't okay with that.
But for now, he let Aaron walk a few steps ahead.