thinking about how different the story would play out if it was spidey who got infected instead of 4c. specifically, the aftermath.
because unlike 4c, once she’s gone, the memory of her would slip away too. they wouldn’t speak fondly about her, they wouldn’t visit her grave. she would not leave the same echo behind, even if she’s mourned just as heavily. jonathan wouldn’t forget—he could never forget the bright-eyed girl giggling behind him, but the details of her face grow hazy all too quickly. he remembers her smiling, but can’t recall whether or not she’d show her teeth; he remembers her loving ice-cream, but not her favourite flavour. and it’s a sobering realisation, one that feels like betrayal, because he’s the only who could remember her, and he’s already losing her too.
4c however, forgets all too quickly. he smiles, and he wanders around with the same carefree attitude he’s always had, as if his world hadn’t crumbled all around him just a few days prior. sometimes it would return for a fleeting moment, an idle remark as he notices a rainbow in the sky, that “spidey loves rainbows.” and it would be gone before he can remember who she is, and where she’s gone, but it’s still there. somewhere.
on the worst days, he remembers her fully, everything except the fact that she’s gone. jonathan can’t stand those days, he can’t handle 4c’s innocent question of where she is without breaking down again. he doesn’t tell him, of course. not once has he ever reminded him of spidey’s death—though it isn’t out of a desire to protect 4c, but just his own cowardice. it’s almost nice, in a twisted sort of way, to pretend he’s back in the time that 4c is stuck in, where it’s just the three of them against the world. he can pretend that she’ll walk through the doors, a happy little “lalala” ringing like church bells.
jonathan just waits for 4c to forget. and prays he doesn’t.
