The fridge door creaked open, spilling pale light across the dim kitchen. Ethan squinted against it, reaching for a can of iced coffee and a pack of Pop-Tarts. His body moved on autopilot, every motion stiff from hours hunched over a keyboard.
Two hours of sleep, he thought, dragging a hand down his face. Better than nothing.
He cracked open the can, the crack of the can oddly loud in the quiet room.
Behind him, soft footsteps padded across the carpet.
"Good morning, Ethan. How are you, sweetie?" a familiar voice said through a yawn.
He turned to see his mother standing in the doorway, wrapped in a loose robe. Her hair was slightly mussed, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Morning, Mom. I'm good. How are you?" he mumbled back, voice rough from disuse.
She smiled faintly but hesitated, fidgeting with the tie of her robe.
"I'm just fine, sweetie. Your father and I… we uhh… have something important to tell you," she said. "So hurry up and get ready for school, okay?"
Ethan nodded slowly, too tired to probe further. "Sure."
As he tore open the Pop-Tarts wrapper, she frowned and plucked the foil package from his hands.
"I'll make a real breakfast," she said, placing it on the counter. "Don't eat junk this early. It's bad for you. I don't even know why your father bought it in the first place."
"Alright," Ethan murmured, not resisting. His mind was still foggy, processing lines of code and Oscorp server schematics instead of her words.
The cold water of the shower hit like a slap, shocking him fully awake.
Ethan stood under the spray, head tilted back, watching rivulets run down his arms. The exhaustion clung stubbornly, but the icy chill drove some of the fog from his mind.
'You can't fall asleep now,' he told himself. 'You've got to brief Peter and Felicia later. Make sure every detail's flawless.'
By the time he stepped out, his thoughts were sharper—brighter. Like a blade fresh from the whetstone.
His parents were already seated when he came into the small hotel dining area. Plates of eggs and toast waited at his spot with a cup of tea.
"Good timing. How did you sleep?" his father said with a small smile.
"I slept well," lied Ethan, fighting back a yawn.
Ethan slid into his chair and picked up his fork, eating quietly. He wasn't sure if it was the night's work still hanging over him or the thick silence between his parents, but something in the air felt… off.
Halfway through the meal, his mother spoke.
"We found a house," she said, almost too brightly. "It's nearby. A good neighborhood. We're in the process of purchasing it now."
Ethan blinked, surprised. His parents had only started looking a few days ago. He was surprised that they didn't even ask his opinion when choosing the house. Well, he did voice that they could pick on their own, but it still surprised him that they actually did so.
"Oh." He set his fork down. "That's great."
His mother's smile faltered slightly, and she glanced at his father.
"That's… that's not all," she said.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Why do you both look so nervous? Is it bad news? Did someone die?"
His father chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, no one died. It's good news. Just… a bit unexpected."
"Alright." Ethan leaned back slightly. "What's going on?"
His mother took a breath, as if bracing herself.
"You're going to be a big brother, Ethan," she said.
The words hung between them — delicate, unreal — as if speaking too loud might shatter them.
Ethan's mind blanked. For a single, surreal second, all thought stopped.
Then, with practiced precision, he snapped out of it.
"Congratulations," he said, smiling faintly. "That's… amazing. Shocking, but amazing. How far along are you?"
His mother let out a soft breath of relief, her shoulders loosening.
"I'm 18 weeks pregnant. I was worried you might be upset," she admitted.
"Why would I be upset?" Ethan asked, tilting his head slightly. "This is good news for you two. For me too; I've always wanted to be a big brother."
His father reached over and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, it's good for all of us. See, I told you he'd be happy about the news."
Ethan smiled again, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes.
'Maybe in the future I'll be gone,' Ethan thought silently, lifting his glass of tea.
He had no illusions that he could stay here with them forever. Once his plans were in motion—once Oscorp was gutted and his network fully built—he could vanish from this life. Erase his presence completely. By then, Emma Frost should be an ally of his, allowing him to request her to erase their memories if he needed.
The only thing that worried him was that his parents would wake up one day without him and feel… something missing. But with a new baby to focus on, maybe that ache wouldn't be so sharp.
Maybe they'd heal faster without him in the way.
"Ethan?"
He blinked and looked up. His mother was smiling warmly.
"You seem distracted this morning," she said. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah." He forced another small smile. "Just a little tired."
"Well, no more staying up late then," his father said lightly. "You'll burn yourself out."
Ethan nodded and returned to his food, the familiar weight of his secret life pressing down on his shoulders.
As his parents chatted softly about paint colors and nursery ideas, Ethan stared at his plate.
'This is their world now. Their future. It should have nothing to do with me anymore.'
'And I'll make sure nothing can ever touch it—not Norman Osborn, not anyone. Even if it means they forget I was ever part of it.'
For the first time all morning, a genuine smile tugged at his lips.
"Congratulations," he thought. "Truly. I'll make sure the three of you get your happy ending — even if it means I'm not in it. Little brother or sister, your big brother will make sure you have the best life possible.'