"M-Many a morning hath he there been seen, with tears... aug-ment-ing the fresh morning's dew, adding to clouds more clouds with- with his deep sighs."

Kong stood trembling beneath a stage light. Every so often, he'd receive encouraging nods from Glory just offstage, though not nearly as often as the discouraging ones he received from St. Devereaux, the sole audience member.

"But all so soon as the all-cheering sun," Kong continued, "should in the farthest west – I mean east – begin to draw the shady curtains from-" His eyes flitted to the script in his sweaty hands. "-Aurora's bed, away from light steals home my heavy son, and private in his chamber pens himself, shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, and makes himself an artificial night."

"All wrong, Mr. Kong. You have no style! You have no grace!" Devereaux's voice carried farther from his seat than Kong's did from the stage. "You are supposed to be fearing for your son's mental health. Where's the passion?"

"I- I dunno," Kong managed, looking from his teacher to his script. "Uh, black and por- portentous must this humor prove, unless good counsel may the cause, um, remove."

Devereaux sprang to his feet. "Your beloved child has locked himself in his room for hours on end, spiraling into the deepest trenches of depression! Imagine how you'd feel if such a thing were to happen to someone you really knew!"

"Gwen? I thought I heard you up." Peter scarcely waited for Gwen's reply before barging in. The sight before him left him taken aback. "Oh, Gwen..."

It was a clear struggle for her to so much as sit up on the mattress. Her shiny gold hair had been reduced to a frizzy mess, her glasses were who-knows-where, her eyes were almost as baggy as the black t-shirt and sweat pants she had on, and judging by the guest room's scent, she hadn't showered in days. Some sunlight was trying to enter the room, but the curtains wouldn't allow it.

"P-Peter..." She sounded worse than she looked. "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" Instantly, Peter was at her side, squeezing her arm tight.

"I can't do anything," said Gwen. "Except sleep. Can't read a book or check my phone or- or go to the bathroom." Her voice dissolved into a moan. "Your aunt went to the store and I was alone for hours-"

"You're gonna get bed sores." It took Peter a conscious effort not to hug her to death with his spider-strength. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Gwen. I feel up to going to school today, and I was hoping you might, too..."

Gwen's head shook with enough violence to startle him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Peter. There's going to be people there and criminology is canceled and everyone in the whole school knows why and they'll want to look at me and talk to me, and I- I-"

"Shh… It's okay, Gwen. It's okay..."

"Oh g-god..." Her voice was muffled by Peter's shoulder. "You're the only good thing left in my life." But Gwen had to pull back to avoid getting snot all over him. "I-I'm sorry," she said for the umpteenth time. "I know you and Eddie dealt with this when you were little kids. You must think I'm-"

"I think you're in pain right now," Peter cut in, "and absolutely none of it's your fault, and you're handling it the best you can. The best anyone could."

There was a moment of silence, followed by a moment of sniffling.

"I saw you catch that Sin-Eater guy on the news yesterday," Gwen finally said. "I'm glad you're saving lives. It's the only thing that makes sense anymore. You have a purpose. What do I have?" Another sniffle. "I'm a senior already, and I've got no idea what to do with myself. I don't think I can- can withstand college right now, but if I don't go right out of high school, I'll lose so much scholarship money…"

"You don't have to worry about that," Peter said as smoothed Gwen's hair. "Once we're both eighteen, we're gonna get married, and- and then I'll take care of you and Aunt May. You won't have to go to college until you're ready-"

He was cut off by the last sound he'd expected out of Gwen's mouth right now – laughter.

"You want to marry me?"

"Well, yeah." Now Peter was being the bashful one. "Of course. Why wouldn't I wanna marry the woman I love? I mean, if… you want that, too?"

Suddenly, Gwen's face was significantly closer to his own. "More than anything."

Gwen's mouth tasted a lot saltier than usual, but maybe now wasn't the best time to point that out.

"Peter? Gwen?" There came a rap on the door, caused the two to split with a sound like a plunger. "Could you come to the living room? We need to talk."

"Coming, Aunt May!" Peter turned his attention back to his girl. "Want me to carry you?"

Gwen hesitated, then said, "I'd like that."

A minute later, Peter was depositing Gwen on the living room sofa. He had to at least pretend to struggle with her so as not to arouse Aunt May's suspicion.

"I'm not THAT heavy-"

"Sorry, sorry..."

The lady of the house was seated in her favorite armchair, her glasses resting on the nearby lamp table. It was dim in here – The sun was only half-risen. Normally, Peter would be sleeping in, but he'd made himself promise to drag his butt to school.

Peter sat beside Gwen and held her hand, though doing that in front of Aunt May still made his cheeks hot. "What's up?"

"Well, first off, I suppose you ought to know..." May took a breath, then said, "the man who- who murdered two of our loved ones… Walter Hardy… He's dead. A vigilante broke into the police van. I didn't want to trouble you two with it before the funeral."

Oh, right. Time to bust out his acting chops. "Seriously? W-Well, that's kind of a relief, isn't it? I mean, obviously, he deserved a fair trial and all, but at least he can't hurt anyone ever again, right?"

"I suppose." May steadied her fingers. "But this city's grown so violent this last year. And now we have these super-people taking the law into their own hands?" She looked back up at them, eyes quivering. "Your school's been attacked by monsters and robots and who knows what else. I wish we could move somewhere far away from all this, but we can't afford it right now."

May turned her attention to Gwen. "Which brings me to my next point. Gwen, dear, I've been speaking with your aunt and uncle, and we agreed that it wouldn't be healthy for you to move to England with them. You need a familiar environment."

"Thank you," Gwen said without inflection. "I didn't want to leave, anyways."

"But this also means..." May took another, deeper breath. "...until you turn eighteen next August, I'll be acting as your legal guardian. I want you here with us." She managed a smile. "As far as I'm concerned, you're family."

"Mrs. Parker…" A smidge more emotion crept into Gwen's voice this time. Peter smiled and held her tighter.

"But as long as you're living here-" Even without her glasses, Aunt May could give the both of them a wicked "stern schoolteacher" look. "-no hanky-panky, you two. I mean it."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Of course, Mrs. Parker!"

Peter's and Gwen's eyes locked only a moment before darting away, but that moment was more than enough.

"Oh, and that reminds me, I have one last piece of news to share." May sat up straighter in her armchair. "In light of everything that's happened lately, you don't have to meet him anytime soon, but I feel the two of you should know..."

Peter's blood went cold. Him? Oh god no.

"I'm seeing someone." The words echoed like church bells at an execution.

"Congratulations." Gwen smiled at May. Was Peter the only one devastated by this? Why was he the only one devastated by this?

"Someone who's brought me a great deal of comfort lately, in light of… of everything."

"What's he like?" asked Gwen.

"Well…" A strand of white hair twirled around May's finger. "…he has a wonderful personality."

A shudder rocked Peter's body, earning him looks from the other two. "Sorry. Pavlovian response."

"Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days!"

Peter arrived in Midtown High's auditorium right in time to watch MJ's audition. He'd never in his life thought anyone could make Juliet's nurse seem sexy.

At Peter's entrance, though, half the student body dropped what they were doing to run up to him.

"Tiger!" MJ was, of course, first in line. "Good to see you. Is Gwen okay? She's not answering my texts."

Peter gave a strained smile. "She needs more time, that's all."

"Yo, Parker!" Flash was next in line with Sha Shan hovering behind him. "I'm sorry about what happened, man. Captain Stacy probably would've been your dad-in-law once you and Gwen got hitched and had geek-babies."

"Flash." This earned him a nudge to the ribs courtesy of his girlfriend.

"Sorry, sorry. All I'm saying is, Gwen's dad was the coolest guy ever." But at this, Flash's face soured. "Can't believe the stupid Bugle's blaming Spidey for what happened. That's a new low for them."

Suddenly, Peter empathized with Gwen's decision to stay home. "Y-Yeah, maybe," he said. Then, in a voice only he could hear, he added, "Or maybe for once… it's not wrong."

Back on the stage, Seymour, one of the only kids to continue auditioning, suddenly read out:

"This day's black fate on more days doth depend. This but begins the woe others must end."

Returning to high school hadn't exactly been fun, but Peter was glad he'd done it. Now all he had to do was convince Gwen to come with him next time. He knew how tempting it was to stay in bed all day, but the best way to deal with this kinda crap was to push yourself back into routine. Keep taking life one step at a time. Peter supposed he was used to dealing with death, sad as that was to admit.

Speaking of routine, with class over, Peter made his way into the office of the Daily Bugle.

"Hey, Miss Brant." He walked over to her desk, though he frowned when he caught sight of her. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, Peter, hi. Didn't see you there." Miss Brant had nearly dropped her phone in her coffee. As awkward as things had ended up between them, she was still kind of adorable. "I'm fine. Ned's trial isn't going well, that's all..."

"What? That thing's still ongoing?"

Miss Brant sighed. "That's the legal system for you."

"Well, I hope things work out for Ned." Peter looked over at Jameson's office, where he could make out the faint sound of a threat to fire someone in four-point-three seconds. "I don't suppose the Jolly One's got my paycheck yet? I risked my neck getting those Sin-Eater pics."

For once, Peter wasn't lying. Lately, he'd rigged up his camera inside his belt so he could take pics mid-combat. The shots were superb, but he had to be careful not to make it too obvious. One of these days, Peter swore he was gonna hand Jameson a pic with a fuzzy red thumb in the corner.

"I'm not sure. Let me ask him." Betty turned on her intercom, but its reply was drowned out by the sudden sound of screaming.

"Huh? What?" Of course, heated arguments weren't exactly uncommon in the newsroom (Ben Urich had nearly stabbed Foswell with a pen once during a debate on whether to use passive or active voice, and then the dude really would've needed to wear an eyepatch). But what Peter wasn't used to hearing was the heated argument of a younger, less sourpuss-ey voice.

"Dad, come on, he's been out of the headlines for months! I just forgot about him! Her surname was the last thing I was thinking about-"

"I'm sorry, son, but I don't care," said a deeper, wearier voice. "You're not going near her, and that's final."

"I'm not a little kid, Dad!"

"Seventeen's still underage last I checked! You live in my house, you abide by my rules."

Back at her desk, Betty brought a palm to her forehead. "They've been at this since last evening," she told Peter. "I actually miss Jameson's screaming."

"How do you even know he's really dangerous?" Rand snapped. "What if the Bugle's wrong and he's not the Big Man?"

"Well," came Foswell's tiny voice from the sidelines, "I did kind of stake my entire career on that..."

Mr. Robertson gaped at his son. "You think he's harmless. Is that it, boy? You think Tombstone is harmless?"

Peter could testify on that point, but he opted to keep his mouth shut.

"Let me show you how 'harmless' he is." All of a sudden, Mr. Robertson was tearing off his own jacket. The whole office was left gawking at him – Betty even gasped.

It was thick and pink, and it trailed from Mr. Robertson's wrist to his elbow. He'd taken his arm out of his dress shirt's sleeve to give Rand a good look at.

"Whoa. Dad, I never- H-How long have you had that?" Rand was more taken aback than anyone.

"Since junior year of high school," said Mr. Robertson. "Tombstone and I attended one together in Harlem in the Eighties. Back then they called him Lonnie. Kids there hated him because of his skin. Because it wasn't dark enough. Every time the teachers weren't looking, they'd take turns hitting him."

Really? Peter knew all too well that being treated like a freak wasn't fun. Peter was tempted to say he felt sorry for the guy.

"I stood up for him," Mr. Robertson continued. "I told a teacher what was going on, and this is how Lonnie repaid me. Because I made him look weak, he said."

Wait, never mind, false alarm.

"After that, Lonnie dropped out, joined a gang… and got mixed up in Silvermane's early super-mercenary experiments. Ones that gave people unbreakable skin. That's when people started calling him a different name." Mr. Robertson's eyes narrowed. "Tombstone. Because that's all that's left after you cross him."

"Well, uh..." It took Rand a second to devise a suitable reply. "He- He doesn't really seem like a gang member anymore-"

"He's gotten real good at pretending to be part of high society," cut in Mr. Robertson, "but I promise you, son, if you knew a fraction of the things that man's done behind closed doors, you'd keep far away from him."

"I- But I-" Rand was running out of steam. "I love Janice. I mean that."

At this, Mr. Robertson let out his heaviest sigh yet. "I'm sorry, Rand, but I really don't care. You're to end all contact with her. Your mother and I'll be monitoring your phone. Call or text this girl again, and you're grounded. And if you sneak out to that fancy-smancy yacht party and Tombstone doesn't kill you..." He leaned in close enough for Rand to feel his breath on his collar. "...then I will. Do I make myself clear?"

It looked like Rand might yell back, but instead all he said was, "Yes, sir."

This seemed to knock some of the fight out of Mr. Robertson. "I really am sorry," he said, "but if Tombstone ever realized that his daughter's boyfriend is the son of one of the men who helped halt his criminal empire last Valentine's Day..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." And with that, Rand slinked to the elevator, hands in his pockets.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then every single staff member abruptly returned to work.

"Glad that's finally over," muttered Betty, taking a sip of cold coffee.

Peter's eyes lingered on the elevator as Rand vanished behind its doors. Anything involving Tombstone earned a spot on Spider-Man's radar. Rand wasn't usually the hothead type, but still, maybe the Web-Head type ought to keep an eye on him?

"Is she a Capulet? O dear account! My life is my foe's debt!" Flash paused, then blurted out, "Geez, my character's sappy! Can we rewrite this so he's less stupid?"

It was easy for Dad to dismiss Rand's feelings. He'd never had an obstacle between him and his love before. Everything had always worked out perfectly for him and Mom. Dad could never understand. He could never get that Janice was smart and funny and insightful. Maybe it was just because her own life was so glamorous that his seemed banal in comparison, but Janice had never once cared that Rand was a football player. To the girls of Midtown Magnet, that was all Rand was.

Rand risked leaving his hiding place among the hedges, then tilted his head skyward. The Lincoln's penthouse was at the top of a dizzying marble skyscraper. In the moonlight, it almost looked like a giant gravestone, fittingly enough. More importantly, it had a ritzy balcony jutting out of it. And most importantly of all, a gorgeous girl was standing at that balcony, gazing over the railing at the Manhattan skyline. She looked like an ant from all the way down here, but there was no doubt in Rand's mind it was her.

God, she was beautiful. Sometimes her face was all Rand could think about. Of course, the other times, all he could think about were her-

Bzzzzzzz. Rand brought his phone to his ear.

"Randy?" came the pretty voice from the other end. "That you down there gazing up at me, or is it just one of my stalkers?"

Despite his best efforts, Rand grinned. "Both."

"One sec, sweetie, I'm coming down there."

"Janice, wait-" She'd already hung up. Rand rubbed his palm against his shaved head. Great, his wonderful girlfriend had just earned him a grounding. Well, surely his dad would understand that he'd had to call her one last time to break up with her? Break up. The thought formed a pit in Rand's stomach.

Janice emerged from the skyscraper sooner than Rand had expected. She told her bodyguards to hang back, then sprinted across the grass. She was hugging him before Rand had time to react.

"What's with the visit, Randy?" Janice showed off her perfect white teeth. "Couldn't stand to be away from me another minute?"

"Janice..." Rand's head drooped. "I'm sorry, but my dad told me to break up with you. He hates your dad so much, he doesn't want me coming near you."

To his surprise, Janice laughed. "What, you always do what Daddy tells you?"

"I'm serious, Janice. If he sees I've kept in contact you, he could pull me off the football team-"

"I'll buy you a disposable phone, genius." Janice gave his arm a punch. "What your dad doesn't know won't hurt him. C'mon, man, don't let yourself get all upset right before my epic yacht party-"

"How am I supposed to come?" Rand snapped. "You don't think he'll get suspicious if I'm gone all weekend?"

"Ah, right..." Janice pondered this for a moment. "Eh, I'll just have my dad pay him off. That usually works."

Rand's brow creased. "Somehow I doubt he'll want Tombstone's money."

"Don't call him that." The sudden fire in Janice's voice made Rand flinch. "I know my dad used to be a bad person, but that's not who he is anymore! He changed..." She faltered. "He changed when he had me."

"I see." For a while, there was silence. "Man, I had no idea you were his daughter, though. If you don't mind me saying, you really don't look like-"

"Albinism can skip a generation." Janice paused, then added, "And the pointy teeth aren't genetic, for the record. He filed them back before he cleaned himself up." She smiled to herself. "When I was little, I thought he was a shark. I like to tease him about it."

"Oh." More silence. "And you're really sure he's not the Big Man?"

"Don't you get it, Rand?" Janice met his eyes. "My dad's, like, the greatest citizen in New York, and the Daily Bugle hates his guts, probably for the same reason it hates Spider-Man. People like Frederick Foswell are always looking for new scandals to profit off of." Next, she squeezed his hand. "I knew your dad worked for that rag when we started dating, and I didn't let that stop me from loving you." And next, she squeezed something else. "Don't you feel the same way?"

Rand stared at her. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

They remained there for several more minutes, but those were the last words they spoke to each other that night.

Of course, Rand and Janice weren't aware of the red-and-blue voyeur on the penthouse wall. Okay, it was officially time to stop invading their privacy.

It hadn't been for nothing, though. Now Spidey knew that Rand was planning on going to the party after all. Peter couldn't honestly say he'd have done any different back before he learned about great responsibility and stuff. But if Rand would be at that party this Friday, then so would Spider-Man. He couldn't let any other friends get hurt, especially not by a creep like Tombstone.

Spidey fired a web and swung off, doing his best to ignore the sounds of slurping and smacking from the ground below. When he and Gwen made out, it was super hot, but when other people did, it was just gross.

"Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!" Flash hesitated, blinking. "The heck does that mean?"

"It means love can make you do things you don't wanna do," said Sha Shan from offstage.

"Whoa." Flash's eyes went wide. "Shakespeare was a genius!"