… Jean Grey
Jean's room was wrapped in a particular kind of silence. Not the sharp kind that comes before a fight, but the heavy, suspended kind — the kind that settles in when everyone already knows what needs to be said, but no one wants to be the first to break the spell. As if the truth, once spoken, couldn't be put back in its box.
Rain tapped gently against the window, steady and oddly soothing, while the warm amber lamp light cast soft shadows on the walls — shadows that felt like echoes of the thoughts hanging in the air. Messy, dense, and inevitable.
Still, they all showed up.
Jean sat in the center of the bed, legs crossed, posture calm even if her mind wasn't. She wore an oversized t-shirt — clearly not hers — and mismatched socks. But right now, the contrast between her look and the weight of the conversation felt… fitting.
Her eyes, however, were sharp — scanning them before any words were said.
Rogue was the first to arrive. She leaned against the wall like she didn't want to be involved, but also didn't want to be anywhere else. Her gaze was calm, but the way her arms were crossed said otherwise. Ororo entered silently, with her usual effortless grace, and stood by the window, staring out at the rain with the same expression she wore when she had too much to hide.
Kitty stepped in with hesitant footsteps. Her eyes too alert, her shoulders too tense. She didn't know exactly why she was called… but she suspected — and that was enough to make her nervous. Jubilee… well, Jubilee walked in chewing gum with a snap that was loud and intentionally disruptive. She always seemed to know things before everyone else — even when she didn't.
"So… we pretending this is a study group?" she said, hip cocked, leaning on the dresser.
Jean took a few seconds before answering, scanning their expressions. Then she spoke, her voice calm — the kind of calm that hurts.
"This is about Aidan."
Rogue raised an eyebrow, Kitty sank further into the armchair, and Jubilee stopped chewing.
Ororo… looked away from the window.
"I figured", Rogue said flatly. "But I thought you'd keep it to yourself longer."
"I tried", Jean admitted. "But it's getting too big. And pretending it's not happening is only making it worse."
"What's happening…" Kitty began, trying to sound detached, "… doesn't really involve me. Aidan just… flirted a little. And I never—"
"Kitty", Jean cut in gently. "I see the way you look at him."
Kitty froze. Jean turned her gaze to Jubilee.
"And you… act like you don't care, but your head always turns when he walks in."
Jubilee raised an eyebrow but didn't deny it. She just snapped her gum one last time and stuck it in a tissue.
"So now you're a girl decoder too?"
"I'm just saying… I noticed the signs. Because I had them too, before I realized. The glances, the little tells, the need to be near him… even for no reason."
She took a breath.
"And just like it happened to me… it won't take long to happen to you. Willingly."
Kitty looked away, Jubilee bit the edge of her nail, and for a moment, no one argued.
Rogue uncrossed her arms and spoke in a softer tone.
"I'm fine with how things are", she said lightly, but sincerely. "Aidan's like a good addiction. I don't need him every day. I just… wanna know he'll be there when I do. That's freedom enough for me."
There was a pause — and then Ororo spoke, still facing the window.
"To him, everything's a game."
"Maybe", Jean replied. "But he doesn't lie about who he is. He never promised more than he could give. And still… he gives more than a lot of people who do promise the world."
"But it's not love", Kitty whispered.
Jean gave a sad smile.
"No, and he's never said it was. But it's not just desire either. It's that kind of connection that messes with you. And every one of us feels it— in our own way."
Jubilee sank back a little.
"What if I don't want that? What if I don't want to get caught up in this mess?"
Rogue shrugged.
"Then don't. No one's forcing you."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the lights flickered briefly.
Then Ororo finally said it.
"Raven."
All eyes turned to her.
"She's not here. And she's the only one who never looks conflicted."
"Maybe because she's the only one he really chose", Jean said. "She came here with him. She's his partner. His confidant. His… accomplice."
Kitty pulled her legs up on the chair, hugging her knees.
"So where is she now?"
Jean hesitated, glanced at the door, then back at them.
"They left the mansion together tonight."
"No heads-up?" Jubilee asked.
"No return time either", Jean replied.
Rogue bit her lip but her voice stayed calm: "It's fine. Aidan never promised exclusivity. What matters is that he's still there when we need him."
And for the first time, the others understood what she meant. It wasn't about having him. It was about feeling him. And Aidan — with all his smirks, teasing, and mysteries — was a presence that was hard to resist.
Jean leaned back against the wall, letting her body relax into the moment.
The girls around her were different in everything — style, background, expectations. But they were tied together by one thing in common.
"So that's it…" she murmured. "None of us will have all of him. But each of us will have a part no one else will."
And in the silence that followed…
No one disagreed.
… Aidan Quinn
The world disappeared for a moment. All that existed was the taste of her lips.
MJ had the kind of kiss that burned slow — like good whiskey sliding down your throat. Warm, steady, full of that shameless confidence that made sense in every inch of her body. She was gripping my shirt collar like she wanted more. Like she was tired of flirting, tired of the tension-filled pauses, tired of pretending.
So I gave in.
One hand was at the curve of her waist, the other trailing up the bare skin of her back. The world was nothing but the sound of her breath against my mouth, lips moving together, her heat pressed against me.
It was a kiss of surrender.
And then…
The balcony door creaked open. The sound was soft, but just loud enough to snap us back.
I didn't stop, but MJ did.
She pulled away slowly, like waking up from a dream. Her eyes were still half-lidded, lips damp, breathing as ragged as mine.
She turned her head. So did I. And standing there — like a ghost outlined in silence — was Gwen Stacy.
Alone.
Her white dress stood out against the dark balcony, but what hit the hardest was her face — a mix of frustration, sadness, and anger. Not at us. At someone who wasn't there.
"Gwen?" MJ asked, quickly adjusting the strap of her dress. "What happened? Where's Peter?"
Gwen took a deep breath, staring at a spot somewhere between us — but not really seeing either of us.
"He… had to go. Said something came up and left."
There was no anger in her voice. Just exhaustion. The kind that comes from being left behind one too many times.
MJ frowned, stepping closer.
"But… he promised he'd stay with you. He even—"
"I know what he promised", Gwen cut in, softly — but sharp.
The kind of cut that only comes from someone who saw the end coming before it even began.
I stayed quiet.
Because in that moment, my awareness picked up on something — something I wouldn't have noticed if I was still fully focused on MJ. Something only the Six Eyes could see from this far.
I turned my head, just a little, letting my vision stretch — past the air, the streets, the blocks.
A green blur on a glider. Sleek, metallic, cutting through the skyline like a shark above the city. Pumpkin-shaped bombs glowed orange in his hands. Seconds later, one exploded into a parked car — and the street two blocks away became a flash of fire and screaming.
Green Goblin.
Of course it was now.
I looked up just as the first drop of rain hit my face.
And then it hit me — this party, this location… it wasn't random.
We were at the Osborns' house.
If it was a coincidence, it was the most convenient one possible. The Goblin wasn't hitting a random target.
He was after Spider-Man. He knew Peter would be here.
And while Peter Parker's world cracked under the weight of a responsibility no one else could bear…
I watched.
Once again, Spider-Man's duty tore him away from Peter's life.
"MJ, Gwen", I said firmly, my voice leaving no room for debate, "we're going inside."
MJ blinked at me, caught off guard. Gwen too. But something in my tone didn't ask — it told.
"Why?" Gwen asked, her voice heavy with everything she didn't want to feel.
"Because it's going to rain", I said — and it wasn't just the sky saying it.
MJ hesitated for half a second then took my hand.
Gwen, after a tired breath, followed.
While Peter battled chaos in the skies…
I did what I had to.
I protected the girls. Because sometimes, being the Contractor isn't about challenging the world.
It's about knowing who you're protecting from it.
...
I brought them both inside.
The music was still thumping in the background, muffled now by the sound of rain picking up outside. The party kept going — flashing lights, voices soaked in alcohol and inflated egos. But for us, it had already turned into a different kind of night.
Gwen walked with stiff steps, like the only thing keeping her from falling apart was pure pride. MJ still held my hand, but now the touch felt more protective than playful. She kept glancing at Gwen with that quiet concern you only have when you've been there — left waiting for someone who never showed.
We found a quiet spot — a little room tucked between the hallway and the back stairs. At least here, we could breathe.
Gwen sat down first, hands in her lap, fingernails digging into her palms, staring at a spot that wasn't really there.
MJ crouched beside her, gentle.
I stayed standing, leaning against the wall, just watching in silence.
"He left me there", Gwen finally said. Her voice was low, heavy. "We were talking, walking… and then he just… vanished."
MJ frowned.
"Didn't say anything?"
"Said he had to take care of something, out of nowhere. Then turned around and walked off."
She let out a small, bitter laugh.
"And the worst part is… I'm not even surprised. He does that. He always does that. Like there's two versions of him— the one who's with me… and the one who disappears."
MJ didn't answer right away. She just ran her hand gently along Gwen's back. Gwen kept talking, still not looking at either of us.
"And I'm left there, alone, trying to figure out what I did wrong. Wondering if I was too much, or not enough. If I scared him off. Maybe he just… doesn't want me like I want him."
I stayed quiet. Peter didn't leave because he wanted to, that much was obvious.
He left because the world called louder.
Like it always does.
The burden of being Peter Parker. That "great responsibility" thing that came with "great power."
But she didn't know that — and that was the worst part. She couldn't even hate him properly. She could only feel the weight of his absence… like a guilt that wasn't even hers.
"Gwen…" MJ said softly, "He's weird, we know that. But maybe… maybe it's just his way of dealing. Sometimes guys shut down or run. But that's not on you."
Gwen shook her head.
"It's just…" Her voice cracked. "I wanted him to be here."
MJ squeezed her hand.
"Well, you've got us right now. We'll take you home, and if he shows up later… he'll have to explain everything. No lame excuses this time."
She looked at me. The question was in her eyes before it ever reached her lips.
"You mind giving us a ride, Tiger?"
I gave her a half-smile — the kind that's soft but solid.
"Not at all. My car's always available for broken hearts."
MJ let out a little nose-laugh, and even Gwen seemed to let go of some of the tension. The rain was coming down harder now, tapping against the windows with urgency.
And out there — somewhere not too far from here — Peter was probably facing hell with a mask on his face.
… Peter Parker
The air sliced across his face like dull, icy razors — cold and merciless. Every swing of the web yanked at his body. Your muscles burning, heart pounding.
The sky above New York looked like it was brewing a storm. Dark clouds piled up like gods lining up to watch a tragedy. The rain started falling in thick, heavy drops — slow, like the ticking of a countdown.
And behind him — the explosions. Bright orange flashes ripped through the night, bouncing off the glass of the buildings like hell's own reflections. Each blast echoed like thunder trapped in a bottle, and Peter felt every vibration in his ribs.
Green Goblin.
He wasn't just back. He was putting on a show — and this wasn't some random rampage.
This was a hunt. A targeted one.
For Spider-Man.
For him.
The Goblin's glider tore through the sky like a blade, its engine buzzing like a metallic laugh. He stood on it, arms wide open, his coat flapping behind him like demon wings in celebration.
"STILL PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK, SPIDEY?" He roared before tossing two bombs in a dramatic spin.
Peter leapt, Spidey-sense tingling like electricity. One bomb soared overhead. The other — came straight at him. He dodged, but too late. It grazed him on the side and sent him slamming into a building like a rag doll.
He hit hard, collapsed sideways, the air knocked out of him like someone had punched his lungs inside-out. He groaned through his teeth, but didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
Down below, sirens wailed. A car was on fire. People screamed, running for cover. But the thing that twisted in his chest… the thing that made it all hurt worse…
Was knowing the party was just three blocks away.
And he'd left Gwen there.
He leapt again, twisted mid-air, shot a web — pain stinging at his wrist — and flung himself straight at the glider.
The Goblin spun at the last second, like it was a dance.
"YES, YES! FIGHT BACK! SHOW ME YOU STILL CARE!"
Peter kicked him square in the chest. The hit sent them both crashing onto a rooftop, tumbling over busted pipes and bent antennas. The Goblin stood back up way too easily, twirling another bomb like it was a damn apple.
He was enjoying this — his own twisted stage in a bloody theater.
Peter was on one knee, panting.
"Are you attacking at random or just trying to personally ruin my night?"
The Goblin laughed — sharp and cruel. His mask tilted just slightly, like he was grinning behind the green lenses.
"Isn't it obvious? This is all for you, Spider-Man! Every explosion, every shattered window, every ounce of fear… has your name on it!"
Peter clenched his fists. The weight of the world was on his shoulders — again.
Gwen.
Her face. That mix of sadness and quiet understanding. Like she knew he wouldn't stay. Like she already expected to be left behind.
And he ran again.
Because if he stayed, the world would hurt her. Because being Peter Parker meant never being whole. It meant living between duty and desire — and almost always choosing duty.
But right then — with the Goblin in front of him, laughing like some prophet of destruction…
Peter thought about Aidan.
He was there with them. Weird, sarcastic, unpredictable… but solid. Peter didn't know why, but he trusted that.
Aidan didn't run — and he'd never leave someone behind.
And MJ was with him. So Gwen would be, too.
Peter closed his eyes for just a second — the rain growing heavier, thunder rolling in the distance, the metal wings of the glider humming overhead.
"Just a little longer…" he thought. "Help me keep them safe… just until this is over."
When he opened his eyes, something had changed. There was focus now.
He lunged at the Goblin.
They clashed like a broken promise. Fists flying, webs snapping, bombs barely dodged. They rolled across rooftops like wounded animals — but neither backed down.
The Goblin was stronger than expected and more prepared.
Peter kicked him. The Goblin blocked with his forearm and punched him hard in the gut. Peter doubled over, choking on the impact.
But he headbutted the mask in return.
The Goblin stumbled back. Peter leapt over him, fired a web, yanked a steel beam, and flung it full force.
CRASH!
The beam smashed him into a water tank, cracking it open as water spilled across the rooftop. The Goblin stood, soaked — and laughing even louder.
"Ohhh YES! Look at you fight! It's beautiful, Spider-Man! Tragic beauty!"
Peter dropped to his knees, spent. Breath ragged, but eyes still burning.
"I'm still standing", he rasped. "And you're going down before I do."
The Goblin didn't answer, he just pulled out a bigger bomb. One that pulsed red like a heartbeat.
And everything about it said this wasn't just another bomb.
This was the end of the act…
… and the beginning of something way, way worse.