Peter Parker keeps a journal.

Not a diary- but a battered notebook stuffed in his backpack, pages filled with messy handwriting and timestamps. It’s how he keeps track of things. Good deeds. Spider-Man stuff. Proof that Uncle Ben didn’t die for nothing.

- Stopped bike theft on 5th. - Returned lost dog to owner. - Didn’t let guy jump off bridge.

One day, between physics and chemistry, he forgets it on his desk. You find it. You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t. But curiosity wins, and a few pages in, your stomach drops. The dates. The details. The webbing notes in the margins.

Oh. One of your classmates is Spider-Man. You don’t tell anyone. You don’t confront him. You don’t even look at him differently the next day. Instead, you slide the notebook into an envelope and mail it back to his Aunt May’s house. But before sealing it… you add something. A new page. Your handwriting.

- Made a really bomb sourdough loaf. - Picked up that one paper clip stuck under the drawers. - Let someone merge in traffic without being mad about it. - Gave money to a homeless man. - Paid for the person behind me in line.

When Peter opens the package at home, he freezes. He reads the page once. Then again. Then he laughs- quietly, surprised by the sound of it. It’s the first real smile he’s had since Ben died. Not the forced, polite one. A real one. The kind that makes his chest feel warm instead of heavy.

For the first time, the list doesn’t feel like penance. It feels like… it matters. So Peter starts leaving the notebook behind on purpose. A classroom desk. The library table. The bleachers.

Always hoping it’s you who finds it again. Always pretending he doesn’t notice when the book comes back with one more page filled out- small kindnesses, dumb jokes, quiet good things.