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***
Gwen woke up even before the alarm clock rang, her eyes opening slowly to the morning light filtering through the gaps in the curtain. For a few seconds she remained still, somewhat trapped in that haze between sleep and awareness.
'Come on… it's a new day, Gwendolyn.'
She blinked a few times, pushing away the remnants of sleepiness before tossing the comforter aside with a determined huff. Her feet touched the cold floor, the contact with the wood helping to awaken her senses.
Gwen dragged herself to the bathroom, washed her face with cold water and brushed her teeth without much hurry, watching her own reflection in the fogged mirror. Her eyes looked a little more tired than usual, but she ignored it, returning to the bedroom and sitting down in front of the vanity.
She picked up the brush and began combing her hair calmly, separating the strands carefully while shaping the waves so they fell softly over her shoulders, just the way MJ had taught her a few weeks earlier. When she finished, Gwen tilted her head slightly to each side, evaluating the result.
Satisfied with what she saw, she finished the hairstyle by adjusting a headband, securing a few rebellious strands that insisted on falling over her face.
Then came the part that required a little more concentration: the contact lenses. She removed her glasses — the ones she had worn for years, that almost felt like part of her identity as much as her smile — and carefully placed them on the vanity while picking up the small case beside it with her other hand.
After properly sanitizing her finger, she removed the first lens, holding it on the tip of her index finger before bringing it delicately to her right eye. Gwen blinked once. Then twice. On the third blink the lens finally settled, although there was still a slight discomfort, as if a tiny grain of dust were trapped there.
She repeated the process with the other eye.
When she finished, Gwen lifted her gaze to the mirror, observing herself: her blue eyes were now completely visible, without the large frames hiding half her face, and her blonde hair framed her features, highlighting her pink lips.
Beautiful.
It was impossible to deny.
The girl staring back at her from the other side of the mirror looked nothing like the Gwen Stacy who had walked almost unnoticed through the school halls a few months earlier, with large glasses, a simple ponytail, an orange jacket, and arms full of books.
This Gwen looked like someone else. Or at least that's how it felt. In fact, it seemed like everyone thought so.
Ever since she had changed her look, Gwen noticed that people had started paying attention to her in a way they never had before. Eyes followed her steps through the hallways. Whispers appeared when she passed by. Boys who had never even spoken a word to her now casually appeared near her locker with rehearsed smiles and awkward attempts at conversation. Girls who had barely remembered her name before now smiled as if they were childhood friends, inviting her into their groups.
Sometimes it all felt almost surreal.
Where were all these people when she was just… her?
Gwen didn't like that at all, especially the way some looks seemed to evaluate her as if she were a piece of meat on display. She hated the idea that, for most of them, nothing about her really mattered beyond her new appearance.
It was empty attention.
Superficial.
Suffocating.
Honestly, Gwen didn't want any of that, and yet she would keep going. Because, among all those looks, there was one that truly mattered.
***
[A few minutes later]
The morning at Midtown High was always the same symphony of locker doors slamming, laughter echoing through the hallways, and groups forming and dissolving like moving cells. The smell of cheap cafeteria coffee mixed with the characteristic odor of old textbook paper and the overly sweet perfume some girls used in excess, creating a fragrance that existed only in those corridors.
Gwen was standing in front of her locker, her fingers spinning the combination of the lock almost automatically. Click. Click. Click. The door opened with a metallic creak, revealing neatly organized rows of books and notebooks perfectly aligned, exactly the way she always left them.
She started grabbing the materials for her first class, biology with Professor Warren, which meant she needed to be especially alert. But her attention clearly wasn't on it. Her eyes scanned the hallway every few seconds, scanning every passing face in search of a specific one.
Messy brown hair.
Slightly hunched posture.
Blue shirt and brown cargo pants — the same ones he had proudly told her he bought in several identical sets during a sale. "Six pairs, Gwen! Six! For the price of one. I'm dressed for the rest of the year!"
Nothing.
Peter wasn't anywhere.
She was so distracted looking over her shoulder that she didn't notice when someone leaned against the locker next to hers. "You won't find him looking like that, you know?"
Gwen flinched violently. She turned in a sharp motion, the books almost slipping from her hands, her heart racing, and came face to face with the mischievous smile of Mary Jane Watson. "Mary Jane!" She placed her free hand over her chest, feeling the rapid pounding. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
MJ raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you sure you still have one?" she asked with fake innocence. "Because I could swear you already gave it to—"
"No." Gwen cut her off before the sentence could finish its murderous course, shooting her a hard look that tried to compensate for the blush rising to her cheeks. "Just. No."
MJ stayed silent for a second, studying her friend's face. Her playful expression slowly faded. "Right…" she murmured seriously. "We're still in the middle of a crisis."
"Please," Gwen looked back toward the hallway. "I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Girlie." MJ took a step closer, her tone now stripped of any teasing. "At some point we're going to have to talk about this. You can't avoid me forever."
"It won't be now." Gwen turned back to the locker, closing the door with a sharp movement before leaning her back against it, her eyes immediately scanning the hallway again.
"Haaa… okay." MJ sighed, defeated — temporarily, because defeating Mary Jane Watson was impossible. She also started looking down the hallway, mimicking Gwen's search for a few seconds before changing the subject. "By the way, you didn't answer my message. Are we going out after school?"
"Yes... sure." Gwen answered distractedly.
"Ice cream? A movie? Maybe breaking into a clothing store and pretending we're bored socialites?"
"Anything is fine… I guess."
"Wow," MJ exclaimed, looking at her friend. "That was probably the most enthusiastic answer I've ever gotten," she said sarcastically.
Gwen opened her mouth to apologize for the lack of enthusiasm, but her gaze drifted away at the beginning of the sentence when she spotted someone with brown hair passing through the crowd. Her heart gave a small leap. But two seconds later it was clear it wasn't him. The small spark of hope faded almost immediately.
MJ watched the entire scene — the hope, the confirmation, the disappointment — without missing a single detail. "He… didn't answer any of your messages, did he?"
"You know the answer." Gwen replied quietly.
"Well…" MJ scratched the back of her neck thoughtfully, her fingers curling around a red strand. "He didn't answer mine either. So maybe… I don't know… he lost his phone?"
Gwen let out a small sigh. "I'm starting to get worried."
"Hey, hey, easy," MJ quickly stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "My aunt went to the Parker house yesterday and said everything was fine."
Gwen turned her head toward her so fast her neck almost cracked. "Really?!"
"Yes." MJ confirmed with a firm nod. "She said May was doing really well, and that everything seemed normal."
The tension in Gwen's shoulders eased a little. "So he's okay…"
"Of course he is, we're talking about Peter," MJ confirmed.
Before Gwen could respond with something clever — pointing out that Peter was always getting into trouble because of his work as a photographer — a loud voice echoed through the hallway.
"GWEN!"
Both Gwen and MJ turned their heads at the same time. Harry Osborn was walking toward them through the crowd, waving with a broad smile. Some people instinctively stepped aside to give him space as he approached, looking at him with wary glances.
When he got closer, his smile grew. "Finally found you," he said, before leaning in and kissing Gwen on the cheek. "Good morning."
Gwen smiled slightly, surprised by his positive energy. She hadn't seen him this animated since his father's death. "Good morning, Harry."
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair with a slightly offended air. "By the way, there's still something I don't understand. Why didn't you let me bring you to school today?"
Gwen blinked. "What?"
"We were already on the way to your house," Harry explained. "You know it's no trouble for me to do that. My driver loves you, says you're more polite than I am. And I like having you around before classes start. It calms the nerves."
"My dad brought me," Gwen said, adjusting the books in her arms. "He insisted on doing it today."
"Ohh, right." Harry nodded, understanding. "But when he can't, let me bring you. You don't have to take the bus anymore."
MJ cleared her throat. "Does that invitation extend to mere mortals like me? Or does it only work for blue-eyed blondes?"
Harry looked at her with wide eyes, seeming to notice only now the presence of the redhead beside Gwen. "Mary Jane! Sorry, I didn't see you."
"It's fine," MJ replied with a small dismissive wave. "I've mastered this technique of staying so incredibly still that I become invisible to the eye."
Harry laughed. "I promise I'll pay more attention next time."
"I accept that promise," MJ replied. "But only if it comes with occasional luxury transportation."
"Unfortunately, that's a privilege reserved only for Harry Osborn's girlfriend," Harry said with an arrogant smile.
"Oh, really? What a shame." MJ sighed theatrically, placing a hand on her chest. "And here I was dreaming of arriving at school in a limousine one day. Goodbye, my fifteen minutes of fame."
"Uh, actually Harry—" Gwen jumped into the conversation, liking the idea of MJ going with them, but before she could elaborate, a loud sound echoed through the hallway — something heavy slamming against a locker.
BAM!
Everyone turned their heads toward the noise, and in the next second, murmurs spread throughout the place. Students began to gather at a point farther ahead, just a few feet away, forming a semicircle around something — or someone — they couldn't see from where they stood. The murmurs grew in intensity, some louder voices standing out amid the confusion.
"What was that?" MJ frowned, trying to see over the heads.
"Looks like a fight," Harry commented, his eyes narrowing.
Gwen felt a tightness in her chest — not fear of danger, but that strange feeling that something serious was happening.
More students joined the circle. The voices grew louder, more excited. Someone laughed. Someone shouted encouragement. The typical crowd behavior when two idiots decide to trade punches in the hallway.
Harry looked at the two of them, then at the crowd, and back again. "Let's see what it is," he said, starting to move toward the commotion.
MJ and Gwen exchanged a quick look — that look that said "let's just watch from a distance" — before following Harry. When they got close enough to see the center of the circle, Gwen felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.
***
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Disclaimer: This story and its characters belong to Sony Pictures and Marvel Comics (Disney). This is merely a fanfiction written by a fan, with no intention of infringement.