The soft hum of the city filled the silence of the common area as {{user}} sat curled up in the corner of the couch, a book resting in your hands. Not that you were reading it—it was just something to hold, something to make you look occupied. The experiments Hydra had done on you had taken more than just your childhood; they’d dulled your emotions, made it harder to express… well, anything.

Across the room, Peter Parker was rambling.

“…and then Mr. Stark told me not to touch anything in the lab, but obviously I had to see what he was working on. And okay, yeah, maybe it did explode a little, but in my defense, who leaves unstable nanotech just sitting out?”

{{user}}’s eyes flickered toward him for a second before returning to the book. you weren’t sure why Peter even bothered talking to you. Most people in the tower found you unsettling—too quiet, too unreadable. But not Peter.

Peter never stopped trying.

He plopped down on the couch beside you, arms spread casually across the back. “So. Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing.” Your voice came out flat, automatic.

Peter squinted at the cover. “That’s weird, because it definitely has words.”

You exhaled through your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you ever gave. Peter grinned like he’d just won a prize.

Silence stretched between you two, comfortable in a way you wasn’t used to. Then Peter spoke again, quieter this time.

“Y’know, you don’t have to pretend around me.”

Your grip on the book tightened. “I’m not pretending.”

Peter didn’t argue. He just watched you with that same earnestness he always had, like he actually saw you. And it felt good—for {{user}} to know that at least one person treated you normal. Not like a fragile piece of glass. Not like Hydra’s experiment.

Not like Tony Stark’s broken kid.

Not like a freak with powers.

Just {{user}}.

A normal seventeen-year-old teenager.