MICHAEL SAT ON the sofa, his hands folded in front of him and his elbows on his knees. He was staring at the wall deep in thought. The shelf containing the picture of Aubrey was just above his eyesight.
Y/N entered the living room, having come from his room where he put back the metal case that housed his spider suit. After the teenager revealed himself as Spider-Man, he showed Michael the suit and explained briefly where it came from. There were few words exchanged then.
"Dad?" Y/N called out, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry that I kept this from you. I just...didn't want you to worry or stress out any more than you already do."
Michael exhaled and looked down at his hands. The teenager took a step closer toward the sofa.
"You don't deserve this. Having such things kept from you. Having to worry about me. You shouldn't have to deal with me."
This time, Michael turned to his son. He didn't want to hear that coming from him.
"Don't say that, Y/N." He stood up from the sofa. "I'm happy to have you. Of course, I am! It's just...this is a lot to take in."
Michael turned back around and looked at the shelf with his wife's picture. The man let out a sigh.
"When I lost your mom, the days afterward were painful. I slept every night scared. Scared for me...scared for you." He explained. "The alien invasion opened a lot of eyes...including mine. It showed us that there are higher powers in the universe compared to us on Earth. We're just...specks in the grand scheme of it all. That meant that there could be danger at any moment...and that I could lose much more. That I could lose you too."
"You won't lose me, dad. Trust me, you don't have to worry—"
"It's my job to worry." Michael interjected and faced him. "And now you're telling me that you've been going out there, fighting criminals and getting shot at."
Y/N stayed quiet and let his father speak.
"How long have you been doing this? About a year? All those things that the news talked about Spider-Man...the situation with Robert Farrell, the fight in Germany, the trouble in D.C and at the ferry...they all involved you."
"Yeah. But–"
"You could've been seriously hurt. And I wouldn't have known. It would've been that one phone call...the call where they tell me my son was found in a red and blue suit...dead." Michael tried to hold back tears. "I don't want to go through that again."
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The teenager let out a sigh, composing himself so he doesn't tear up either.
"I do what I do so that people don't have to go through what we went through, dad. You said before, what mom also said, that I have gifts that I should use for the betterment of not only myself but others. This is my gift. And I'm using it to help people."
