Peter WHY...

The next day dawned crisp and clear over New York City, the morning sun casting long shadows across the bustling streets of Queens. Peter Parker walked with his usual casual stride, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, the rhythm of the city a familiar backdrop to his thoughts. Taxis honked, pedestrians rushed to work, and the faint scent of street vendor coffee hung in the air. 

The thrill of last night's patrol—chasing those robbers, webbing up their car—still buzzed in his veins, but it was just another night's work for him now. 

Business as usual, he thought, a smirk playing on his lips.

As he turned onto a busier street, his eyes caught a flash of color on a newsstand ahead. A stack of newspapers sat prominently displayed, their bold headlines and glossy photos drawing the attention of passersby. It was The Daily Bugle, its front page dominated by a grainy but unmistakable photograph: there he was, Spider-Man, standing near the flipped car, webs glistening in the streetlights, the robbers' silhouettes visible through the webbed doors. 

The headline screamed in large, black letters: "SPIDER-MAN: A MENACE TO SOCIETY."

Peter barely flinched, his pace slowing only slightly as he approached. He snatched a copy from the stand, holding it up to get a better look, but there was no shock in his expression—only a resigned roll of his eyes. 

Of course, he thought. Jameson's at it again. Guy's more predictable than a broken clock. The photo was shaky, likely snapped by some onlooker with a camera phone, but it captured him clearly—mask on, posture confident, one hand on his hip like some kind of action hero. Below the headline, smaller text read: "Vigilante's Reckless Actions Endanger Public Safety—Calls for Arrest Grow." The byline was none other than J. Jonah Jameson, the Bugle's fiery editor-in-chief, known for his relentless tirades against masked heroes.

Peter scanned the article with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. It detailed last night's incident, claiming Spider-Man had "interfered" with a police operation, potentially putting civilians at risk with his "unstable web technology." Jameson ranted about how vigilantism undermined law and order, asserting that Spider-Man was "a threat to the very fabric of New York's safety." There were quotes from unnamed police officers, one of whom called the webs "a public hazard," and a city council member demanding an investigation into this "menace." The layout was typical Bugle fare—sensational, overblown, and dripping with Jameson's signature venom.

Same old song and dance, Peter thought, crumpling the paper slightly before smoothing it out again. I knew this was coming the second I put on the mask. Jameson's been gunning for anyone in tights since before I was born. Menace to society? Please. If anything, I'm the city's best customer service rep—free of charge, no less. 

He shook his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips. Let him yell. It's not like his opinion's news. Guy probably thinks pigeons are a conspiracy, too.

His mind wandered briefly to the implications. The photo's not great, but it's clear enough. No one can tell it's me, though—mask, suit, all anonymous. Still, if Aunt May or Uncle Ben see this, they'll just chalk it up to more city craziness. They don't even read the Bugle that often.

 He flipped the paper over, skimming other headlines about city politics, a subway delay, and Oscorp's latest tech buzz, but none held his interest like Jameson's rant.

A passerby bumped into him, muttering a hurried apology, and Peter realized he'd been standing there too long, lost in thought. He folded the newspaper under his arm, deciding to keep it—not out of worry, but as a memento of how little Jameson's words fazed him. Menace, huh? he mused, stepping back into the flow of foot traffic. If that's the worst he can throw at me, I'm doing better than I thought.

He continued walking, the city's rhythm swallowing him up again. The headline might have rattled someone else, but for Peter, it was just another day in the life of Spider-Man—a life he'd chosen, knowing full well the haters would come out swinging. Jameson could slander all he wanted.

By the time he reached the school, the morning rush was in full swing. Students spilled out of buses and cars, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of laughter, complaints, and hurried goodbyes. Peter pushed through the front doors, the familiar scent of disinfectant and old textbooks greeting him. The hallways buzzed with activity, but one thing was noticeably absent: the endless chatter about Flash and his accident had died down. No more whispers, no more wide-eyed stares. 

Good, he thought. Maybe people are finally moving on. Less heat on me, too.

As he navigated the crowded corridor, his eyes caught a familiar figure near the lockers. It was Liz Allan, her blonde hair catching the fluorescent light as she adjusted her backpack. Their gazes met, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Peter raised a hand and waved, a casual grin spreading across his face. Liz waved back, her lips curving into a warm smile. 

There she is, he thought, his pulse quickening just a bit. Ever since that hospital visit, we've been talking more—phone calls, texts, the works. She's not just hot; she's actually cool to hang with.

He made his way over, weaving through the throng of students. "Hey, Liz," he greeted, his tone light but friendly. "How's it going?"

"Hey, Peter," she replied, her smile widening. "Pretty good, actually. You?"

"Same old, same old," he said, falling into step beside her as they started walking toward their class. She looks even better up close, he thought. Focus, Parker. Don't be weird. "School's been quiet lately, huh? No more Flash drama."

"Yeah, thank goodness," Liz said, rolling her eyes playfully. "I think everyone's just tired of talking about it. He's still in the hospital, but the gossip's finally dying down. How about you? You holding up okay?"

Peter shrugged, keeping his expression neutral "Yeah, I'm fine. Just glad things are settling. That hospital visit was… intense, but it's good to see you're doing alright."

Liz nodded, her expression softening. "It was weird, seeing him like that. But talking to you afterward helped. We should do it more often—hang out, I mean, not just hospital visits."

Jackpot, Peter thought, suppressing a grin. "Definitely. Maybe next time, no hospitals. How about that coffee shop again? Or a movie? I owe you for keeping me sane through all that."

Liz laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "You're on. I'd like that. It's nice to have someone who gets it, you know? Not everyone's as easy to talk to as you are."

"Thanks," Peter said, feeling a swell of satisfaction. She thinks I'm easy to talk to. Score one for Parker. "Same here. You're pretty good at this friend thing."

They continued down the hallway, their footsteps syncing as they dodged other students. The bell was about to ring, but neither seemed in a hurry. "So, any big plans this weekend?" Liz asked, glancing at him.

"Not really," Peter said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Besides swinging around the city and dodging Jameson's headlines, you mean? "Probably just homework and hanging with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. What about you?"

"Same," Liz said with a sigh. "Mom's been on my case about college applications, but I'm thinking of checking out some apartments. Still saving up, but it's starting to feel real."

"That's awesome," Peter said, genuinely impressed. She's got drive. I like that. "Let me know if you need help moving or anything. I'm pretty strong—surprisingly so."

Liz raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, really? I'll keep that in mind. Maybe you can carry all my boxes."

"Deal," he said, grinning. This is going better than I thought. Who needs superpowers when you've got charm?

They reached their classroom just as the warning bell rang, the door ajar and the murmur of students settling in audible from within. "Looks like we made it," Liz said, pausing at the threshold. "See you after class?"

"Definitely," Peter replied, holding the door open for her. This day just got a lot better.

Together, they walked into the classroom, the normalcy of school life wrapping around them like a familiar blanket. But in Peter's mind, the connection with Liz was a bright spot in the chaos of his double life—and for now, that was enough.