章 3: 3. Unraveling
Gwen Stacey's POV
I leaned against the cold, metallic wall of Oscorp's main genetics lab, tapping my fingers against my notebook as I watched the tour guide introduce the class to the latest Oscorp technologies. I'd been looking forward to this trip for weeks — finally, a chance to see real science at work, up close. But instead of excitement, all I could think about was Peter.
The buzz among the students had spread like wildfire the moment Tony Stark walked into the lab with his entourage. The energy in the room changed instantly; even our teacher seemed starstruck. But the minute I saw Peter's eyes light up, saw him clutching that worn-out notebook of his, I knew exactly what was coming.
Sure enough, he was moving toward Tony Stark, that hopeful look on his face, his eyes wide. My stomach twisted a little as I watched. This was what pissed me off about about him — always reaching for something, never noticing that he was overextending himself, walking into situations where he'd inevitably get hurt. I wanted to look away, pretend I hadn't seen him approach Stark, but I couldn't help watching as he nervously tried to get Tony's attention.
When Tony Stark's bodyguard blocked his way, I felt a flicker of relief. Maybe he would shoo him off, let him down easy. But then Tony glanced over, and to my surprise, he actually looked at Peter's notebook, skimming through the pages. For a moment, I thought maybe this would go differently. Maybe Stark would see something in Peter's sketches, some kind of spark.
But the look on Tony's face made it clear this wasn't going anywhere. I could barely hear his words, but they carried well enough for the group to pick up on his tone — dismissive, almost harsh. I could see Peter's face fall as Tony skimmed a few pages and handed the notebook back, muttering something about "imagination" and "not everyone's a genius." He told Peter to stay in school, find what he was actually good at, and move on.
Pepper Potts tried to soften the blow, scolding Tony for being harsh, but he shrugged her off. "I'm not in the habit of giving kids unrealistic expectations," he'd said, loud enough for everyone to hear. The class fell silent, and Peter looked frozen, like his whole world had crumbled. My stomach twisted painfully at the sight.
As he walked back to join us, I could see the way he tried to keep his face blank, his gaze fixed straight ahead. But he couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes, the way he gripped that notebook even tighter. His whole body seemed weighed down by Tony's words, his shoulders hunched, his expression haunted.
I swallowed, feeling a pang of sympathy. I knew what this must have meant to him. Peter had always been the kind of person who thought he could change the world. He had this…intensity, this drive that made him different from everyone else. And sometimes, that drive made him do crazy things. Things like approaching Tony Stark in front of everyone.
But as much as I felt bad for him, I wasn't about to get pulled into that orbit again. We'd been close as kids, sure. But things had changed. I had my own group now, my own path. And if I got too close to Peter, people would start talking — start thinking we were the same.
"Everyone, please, let's focus on the tour," the guide's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized the students were still whispering, stealing glances at Peter. The guide led us deeper into the lab, past rows of sleek, state-of-the-art equipment. She directed our attention to a large glass enclosure housing several spiders, each one in its own small containment.
"These spiders are part of a special experiment Oscorp is conducting in gene splicing," the guide explained, her voice smooth and practiced. "We've introduced various genetic modifications in the hopes of unlocking new abilities within the spiders, making them stronger, more resilient, potentially creating new applications and templates for future projects."
As she spoke, I glanced at Peter, still silent, hanging back from the group. I wanted to say something, to maybe check if he was okay. But then I felt the eyes of my friends on me, watching to see what I'd do. I bit my lip, shoving my sympathy down. He'd get over it, just like he always did.
I tried to focus on the guide's explanation, on the possibilities of gene splicing and the potential medical applications. It was fascinating, really. The spiders were just the first step — if successful, this technology could lead to breakthroughs in human genetics. It was exciting stuff, the kind of research I'd dreamed of being a part of.
But then I noticed something strange. Flash Thompson wasn't with the group. Neither was Peter. My gut tightened with a creeping sense of worry, but I brushed it off. Maybe they'd just gotten separated. Flash wouldn't…well, I couldn't be sure what Flash might or might not do. Especially when Peter was involved.
I opened my mouth to say something to the teacher, but one of the other students spoke up first.
"Hey, there's a spider missing," the boy said, pointing at an empty slot in the glass case. The guide peered in, her face barely shifting.
"It's likely been moved to another lab for testing," she replied, her voice dismissive. "Nothing to worry about."
I frowned, glancing around the room as anxiety prickled at the back of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more the absence of both Flash and Peter gnawed at me. I was about to tell the teacher when I saw Flash walk back in, his expression casual as if nothing had happened.
But where was Peter?
I tugged at the teacher's sleeve, unable to ignore the nagging feeling anymore. "Excuse me, Peter's missing. I don't think he came back with Flash."
The teacher frowned, looking around the room. "Really? Peter?" She turned to Flash, her face stern. "Do you know where he might be?"
Flash shrugged, looking away. "Nah. Haven't seen the nerd."
But something in his voice, in the way he didn't quite meet her eyes, told me he wasn't being honest. The teacher called security to help backtrack, and soon a the teacher together with a small team was combing the building for Peter. The minutes dragged by, every tick of the clock adding to my worry. The class was supposed to be moving on, but we were stuck in the lab, waiting for news of Peter's whereabouts.
I exhaled, trying to push down the guilt that kept creeping up. Maybe I should've done something sooner, or at least checked in on him after Stark's rejection. My stomach twisted again, and I closed my eyes, leaning back against the wall.
Then, suddenly, I felt something light touch my neck. I brushed at it instinctively, but a sharp, piercing sensation made me flinch. I swatted at my skin, only to see a small spider crawling down my arm before it dropped to the floor and scurried away.
I gasped, the sharp pain still lingering where it had bitten me. My skin prickled, my heart racing as I rubbed at the spot. The bite throbbed faintly, but I forced myself to focus, pushing away the discomfort. It was just a spider bite — nothing to worry about. Still, the feeling of dread gnawed at me as the minutes ticked by, each second making the pain feel more intense.
After what felt like forever, security returned, telling the teacher they'd found Peter. As we made our way down the hallway, yhe teacher walked past us towards a janitor closet and I could see a worried look on her face. As she opened the door, I saw standing on the inside, Peter. Even thought he tried to hide it, everyone could see he had been crying.
The whispers had started up again, the quiet gossip traveling from one student to the next. Apparently, he'd been locked in a janitor's closet and left there by…well, we all knew who it was.
By the time we got back on the bus, everything felt like a blur. My arm ached, and I felt warm, feverish even. I tried to stay focused, to ignore the prickling sensation creeping through my body, but it only got worse as we rode back to school. The other students' laughter and conversations faded into a low hum, and my thoughts became foggy, tangled.
When the bus finally stopped, I dragged myself out, my head pounding. I barely remembered the walk home, my mind floating somewhere between consciousness and a dream. Each step felt heavier, my legs like lead as I stumbled through the front door of my house and up the stairs.
In my room, I collapsed onto my bed, the world spinning around me. My skin felt too hot, like fire spreading beneath my veins, and my muscles ached with a dull, insistent throb. I could barely keep my eyes open, the exhaustion tugging me down, deeper and deeper, until I couldn't fight it anymore.
The last thing I saw was the ceiling of my room blurring as my eyes closed, the world fading away, taking me with it into darkness.
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