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𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅
𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑡
☀︎︎
The past is never too far away. Peggy once told him that in grief, meaning his memories- those happy times with their brother- were never out of reach but there to comfort. Edward tried to remember it, tried to take it in stride as if his past wasn't 70 years ago. Perhaps it would have been easier to take in when remembering those mementoes, had his brother actually died. It was a morbid thought, but the anger and confusion he felt were impossible to put into words, let alone thoughts. Yet it wasn't really anger- it was betrayal that plagued Edward's body, leaving him in a day-long slump. The truth was clear and painful, cutting a wound straight down his centre: Michael Carter had faked his death.
The small box found in Peggy's room was left on his messy bed as he made his way to the city, leaving the compound as empty as it always was. If Vision was there, he did not hear of him, and he did not care. Without Mr Stark's presence, the walls were bare and the halls desolate- the synthetic man could not fill that space, no matter his human capabilities.
As he stopped against a slanted rooftop, Split looked sharply out from under the black tint of his thin mask, his breathing jagged. The sky held a dreary sort of sun: the kind that was burning, dying, leaving a blood-like trail of deep orange and pale red, flecked with pinkish whisks of cloud. It was lonely here, as the sun fell to the horizon, abandoning the day once again, succumbing to the crippling silence that was reserved for dusk.
It was the red dot against the skyline, that dissolved the isolation. Split felt his chest swell with a warmth that had not been there prior, thanks to the cold chill that captured the air. He tucked his mask further down against his chin, feeling it smooth down over the structure of his jaw, then pushed himself forward, slipping through the nothingness he was familiar with and landing beside the boy in red. This time, as if he was expecting it, Spider-Man didn't jump.
"Split and Spider-Man," he said after a moment, testing the names against his lips as his legs swung over the side of the building.
"Spider-Man and Split," Spidey said, tilting his head in his direction, as if in challenge.
"Why that order?"
"It just sounds better with my name first," the boy insisted, shrugging his shoulders. "It's all down to syllables."
There was an unsure pause and then Split had to laugh. Spiderman shook his head and chomped down on his pastry, turning his head slightly so he could raise the mask past his lips.
"Yeah right," he said. "Well, either way, we're doing this."
He was sure of it now.
"Churro?"
"I'm good," he said, glancing to the pile of spare treats to his left. "Where'd you get them from?"
He shrugged sheepishly. "An old lady refused to let me leave before she'd gotten me one."
"Whatever you say," Split said with a laugh. "I'm sure an old woman was able to prevent Spider-Man from leaving until she could feed him."
Spidey scoffed and shook his head, but there was a flash of a smile on his lips before his mask was pulled down and he turned around again.
"I'm surprised you showed," he said truthfully.
"Why?"
"It's been a few days. I thought maybe you'd changed your mind."
"Oh, I did. Spider-Man wasn't really the coolest name to have connected to your own," Split said, watching as the boy leaned back against the roof tiles in exasperation. "I'm joking! I had something important to do. I'm trying to finish it before Mr Stark gets back from India."
He rolled over, the toned muscles in his arms flexing as he folded his arms behind his head. Split joined him in lying down, staring upwards, keeping his eyes from wandering. The black film of his mask made the darkening sky look brooding and dull.
"Am I even allowed to ask?" Spider-Man said. "I mean, Mr Stark does trust me."
Split wasn't so sure of that- then again, neither did the boy seem to be, by the slope of his shoulders and the bounce of his foot, which hung from the side of the building still. Mr Stark seemed to trust few people- the falling out in Germany was proof of that, and Split could not fault or blame him for that.
Neither Split nor Spiderman had given Mr Stark a reason to trust them either. Just being there together, even if they weren't using their suits to fight, was a betrayal of his patience. Against Tony's wishes, they'd become vigilantes. That was a word- a title- he'd become noticeably aware of. What else could he be, when he was running around New York in a mask, chasing after robbers, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake? A hero? Split was certainly not one of those. Heroes were selfless, willing to give up everything to save the day. They were intelligent, able to learn from mistakes and keep a rein on ambition. Heroes were people like Steve Rogers, and Split could now say that heroes were also like Tony Stark.
Just knowing the two men- even just thinking about Peggy- made him think of his own judgement, his own priorities. When it came down to it, could he give it all up? Would he be willing to lose his new friends, his crime-fighting partner, and Steve? Was he willing to accept that there were some people he would never see again: Wanda, Tony and his sister for a second time?
In truth, despite all that had happened since he'd arrived there in a twirl of motion and a blur of colour, Split liked this world where love was love and borders between people were weakening rapidly. The past no longer felt like home. Instead, as Peggy had always told him, it was the people, new and old, that made him feel safe. He couldn't give it up. He couldn't give them up.
"That's one of us," Split said. Even if Mr Stark did trust him, it wouldn't last long. "How're the missions going then?"
"What missions-" Spidey stopped himself when he realised the dig. "Low blow!"
"Sorry."
They dropped into silence again and it was a few minutes before Spiderman spoke up. "Hey, you alright?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You're quiet."
Beneath his mask, Split smiled at the concern. "Aren't I allowed to be?"
"I'm not used to it."
"You don't know me, Spidey," he said, shaking his head. "You couldn't even begin to guess."
"Then don't make me guess."
The boy's voice was cheery, taunting without meaning to. Split found himself laughing, a deep, explosive sound that came straight from his chest. Realisation swiftly struck at what he wanted to do. The thought of it was bizarre.
"I don't even know what to tell you."
"Where are you from?" Spiderman suggested.
Split shook his head. "Not here and then, I'll tell you that." Then he paused, looked up to the sky in disbelief of himself, and told him. "I'm from the past."
"What, like suits and whiskey past?"
Split's eyebrows furrowed at the words that first came to his partner's head at the prospect of the past. "Like wartime past," he corrected him. "My sister knew Steve before he went in the ice. That's why I'm at the compound. Tony's trying to find a way to get me back."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Really?"
"Pretty positive," he said, letting out another awkward laugh.
"How did it happen?"
The question made his eyebrows raise, but it was the lack of doubt from Spider-Man that surprised him. Was it naivety or utter trust? Perhaps it was something else entirely.
"I don't even know, that's the frustrating part."
"Do you miss it?"
"Every day, so much that it hurts," Split said as he pulled himself up until he sat crossed legged, elbows leaning against his knees. "Now Steve and Wanda are gone. Mr Stark is all I've got."
"You've got me now too, I guess."
Split smiled, his chest warming again, his arms shivering. "I have?"
"Well that's what partners are for, aren't they?"
"Partners are for acclimatising to the future and fighting crime. I'll remember that," Split said, nodding his head sarcastically.
Spidey let out a laugh. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do."
Without Spider-Man, he might've stayed at Liz's party and found Peter. But without Spider-Man, he never would have coped through the long evenings when the compound was empty of all sound, as deafeningly silent as space, and he never would have had someone to confide in, nor would anyone have trusted him so much as the boy in red who sat softly beside him.
The smile on his face widened. "What about you then?"
"Well I'm not from the future or anything," Spider-Man said, his shoulders inflating. "I got bit by a radioactive spider and my life's been different ever since."
"What? Why are you laughing?"
Split was laughing- again. He'd never laughed so much, he thought.
"That's weirdly amazing."
And, as the words left his lips, Spider-Man began to laugh too. Just hearing it, made Split continue. He pulled himself to his feet, teleporting to different spots around the roof as the boy stood too. The energy fizzled in his bones, needing him to move, to keep the momentum going.
"Let's go for an adventure," Split said, ignoring how it sounded. "Come on, be quicker."
"It's hard to match the speed of someone who just needs to think to move," Spider-Man said as he flung his wrist out, flinging himself down to the roof of the building across.
Split rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just hold on."
"Hold on to what? Hold on to wha-"
Split dove forward and seconds later he was by his side, crashing downwards at an increasing rate. Spider-Man reached for him with his web by Split was already wrapping his arm around his waist, sending them crashing through the warped reality with a speed he'd never reached before. Spidey could have been screaming. He wasn't sure. In that middle state, sound moved slow, as did the lights that glowed and sparkled in a rainbow of colours.
When they emerged again, their feet almost toppled from beneath them as the train sped along the tracks, bumping across the metal. Spider-Man gave a quick shout of surprise as he went to steady himself. The weight of his body was let go, but Split could still feel him across his chest. He glanced down, noticing the thick webbing that was splashed across his suit, a red, gloved hand peaking from beneath it. Split looked back up, and he was sure he did not need an expression to show what he was asking.
"What?" Spider-Man said sheepishly, as he tugged his hand from his chest, using something on his wrist to dissolve the webbing. "You said hold on."
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