France — Large Square in Front of the Eiffel Tower — Thirty Minutes Later — Evening
Out of breath and panting, they finally make it back to the large square at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.
Flash is still carrying Liz on his back.
Peter, meanwhile, hasn't let go of Gwen for a single second.
Completely exhausted, they collapse onto the grass one after another, letting out nervous laughter.
Peter gently kneels down and carefully lays Gwen on the lawn, still fast asleep, while Liz climbs down from Flash's back.
— "Wow... that was..."
— "CRAZY!"
— "Right?!"
— "It really was insane!"
— "I'd never been to a party like that before, and the people were so nice!"
Flash lets out a faint smile.
— "Nice, yeah... but kind of weird too. We almost got arrested because of those guys with the drugs."
Miles, Harry, and Anya exchange glances. As if time itself had stopped. But this time, instead of leaving him out...They finally decide to include him.
To take the first step.
Anya wears a teasing smile.
— "So, Flash... are you turning into a buzzkill like Peter now or what?"
Seeing that he's finally being accepted among them, Flash can't hold back a huge smile.
Shy...
But genuine.
— "Maybe!"
— "Anyway, man, respect for carrying Liz the whole way." Miles says.
— "Oh, come on, he's obviously the strongest out of all of us. I'm sure it was child's play for him." Harry continues.
Liz immediately rolls her eyes.
— "Yeah, well, EXCUSE ME, but not all of us have legs made of steel, okay?! I don't even know how you guys can run that much."
Her gaze then shifts toward Sally.
She looks genuinely puzzled.
— "I never would've guessed you had that much stamina, Sally."
— "What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?!"
Everyone immediately bursts into laughter. A few moments later, an idea suddenly crosses Flash's mind.
— "Hey!"
Everyone turns toward him.
— "What do you guys think about making a group chat so we can all talk together? We could call each other, send messages, or just share funny stuff."
The suggestion surprises everyone. For a few seconds, they all stare at Flash, unsure of what to say.
They exchange glances. Thinking he said something stupid, Flash lowers his eyes slightly.
— "B-But if you don't want to, it's not-"
He doesn't even get to finish.
— "Absolutely!"
Miles, Anya, Harry, Liz, and Sally have already taken out their phones.
In a lighthearted and cheerful atmosphere, everyone starts adding each other to the new group chat.
Taking advantage of the moment, Flash walks over and sits beside Peter, slightly away from the others.
— "Hey."
— "Yeah?"
Flash keeps his eyes fixed ahead for a few seconds before speaking again.
— "About our conversation yesterday... I wanted to thank you. Leaving after getting to spend time with my friends during this trip... it really means a lot to me."
He pauses briefly.
— "And I feel like I'm at the beginning of a change. Seeing Miles, Anya, and Harry accept me... it feels good."
A warm smile appears on Peter's face.
He's genuinely relieved.
— "It's only natural. I'm really happy everything worked out."
Then, after a brief silence, he looks at him curiously.
— "So... are you ready for the army?"
Flash gives a slight nod.
— "Almost. There's just one last thing I need to do first."
Peter raises an eyebrow slightly.
— "Really? And what's that?"
Their eyes meet. Peter simply waits for his answer. Flash wants to answer...But no words come out. He decides to keep that answer to himself.
Suddenly, Anya's voice echoes behind them.
— "Hey, you two! Are you coming or not?! We're about to add you to the group chat!"
Faced with her overflowing enthusiasm, Peter lets out an amused sigh.
— "Yeah, yeah... we're coming!"
The two teenagers get back to their feet and rejoin the rest of the group. Peter places Gwen back onto his back, still fast asleep.
A few moments later, everyone is now part of the group chat. For Gwen, Peter is the one who adds her.
Liz then claps her hands together.
— "Alright, now let's take a picture!"
— "Oh yeah, good idea!"
Flash looks around.
— "Uh... who's taking it?"
Sally immediately raises her hand.
— "Me! I have the best camera quality, after all."
— "Look at her showing off." Anya says, rolling her eyes.
— "Yeah, but weirdly enough... I don't think she's wrong." Miles adds.
While everyone tries to figure out where to stand, Sally pulls her selfie stick out of her small bag.
She attaches her phone to it before looking back at the group.
— "Uh, but who's standing where exactly?"
Harry scratches the back of his head.
— "Good question..."
— "Alright, are you guys ready?"
— "No, wait! The shortest people go in front. Miles and Anya, go ahead." Peter ordered.
Anya lets out a long sigh while Miles wears a slightly goofy smile.
Peter calmly continues:
— "Since Sally's taking the picture, she'll be-"
— "I'll be in the middle, I know."
— "Then Flash, Harry, Liz, Gwen, and I will stand right behind you."
Everyone nods.
Anya and Miles take their places at the very front.
Behind them, Peter and Harry stand on the right, with Gwen still asleep on Peter's back.
On the left, Flash stands beside Liz. And in the center of the group, Sally extends her selfie stick.
She carefully adjusts the angle so everyone fits perfectly in the frame, with the Eiffel Tower and part of the night sky in the background.
— "Alright, looks like everyone's ready..."
She presses the timer.
— "3... 2... 1...!"
Just before the photo was taken, each of them naturally slipped into an expression or gesture that perfectly reflected who they were.
True to herself, Liz suddenly jumped onto Flash's back without warning, determined to be the tallest in the picture. Completely caught off guard, he stumbled slightly before regaining his balance, a small grimace briefly crossing his face—a perfect contrast to the confidence he usually carried.
Beside them, Peter quietly made sure Gwen's face was fully visible. Leaning forward slightly, he gently adjusted her position on his shoulder before turning a natural smile toward the camera, satisfied that everyone would appear in the photo.
Harry, meanwhile, didn't need to do anything else. His simple smile, paired with his usual confident demeanor, was enough to capture exactly who he was.
In front of them, Anya made no effort to hide her annoyance at being one of the shortest in the group. Forced to stand in front of everyone else, she quietly complained while looking away slightly, as though such a small injustice already deserved a little protest.
Just a few inches away from her, Miles effortlessly wore the most innocent smile in the group. He wasn't trying to strike a pose or draw attention to himself. He simply looked happy to be there, surrounded by all of his friends.
And then there was Sally.
Unlike the others, she made no attempt to smile any more than usual or strike a particular pose. She kept the calm, almost arrogant expression that suited her so well. From the outside, one might have thought that this photo didn't mean much to her... when in truth, no one could really know what she was thinking.
Then...
Click.
The photo had been taken.
In the background, the Eiffel Tower illuminated the Parisian sky as the night gently wrapped the city in its lights.
But, in the end... not the Eiffel Tower, not Paris... not even that final evening. None of it was what truly mattered.
What mattered were the eight teenagers gathered in that photograph. Just a few weeks earlier, Peter had been surrounded by only a small circle of five friends.
Now, there were eight.
Eight teenagers with completely different personalities who, despite their disagreements, their arguments, and their differences, now shared the same laughter, the same memories, and the same bond.
The final night...
Of a journey that none of them would ever forget.
New York — Residential Neighborhood — One Week Later — Beginning of Summer Vacation — Morning
The residential neighborhood was unusually quiet that morning. The streets were almost deserted, filled only with the songs of birds and the gentle rustling of trees swaying in the breeze. Standing in front of one of the houses, Flash Thompson remained perfectly still, a bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in his hands.
His eyes were fixed on the front door, yet despite all his determination, something kept him from taking the final step. Several times, he raised his hand, ready to knock, only to let it fall again a moment later. The minutes slipped by, and unable to find the courage to face the family inside, he eventually lowered his head and slowly turned away.
He had taken only a few steps when memories of his trip to Paris suddenly came flooding back. The words he had exchanged with Peter still echoed in his mind, along with the promise he had made to himself—to change and finally become a better person.
The moment he realized he was running away from his responsibilities once again, a deep sense of shame washed over him. He clenched his teeth in frustration, took a deep breath, and turned around. This time, he refused to let himself hesitate. He walked back to the front door, took one long breath to steady the pounding of his heart, and finally rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door opened. A woman appeared in the doorway. The instant her eyes met Flash's, her expression completely froze. At once, he felt his throat tighten, but despite everything, he forced himself to speak.
— "Hello, ma'am. I'm sorry to bother you, but I came here to—"
SMACK.
The slap landed with such force that the sound echoed all the way down the street. Flash's head snapped to the side from the impact, and a sharp pain immediately spread across his cheek, which was already turning red.
Yet he didn't protest. He didn't even look up at her. Standing before him, the woman's face was twisted with a mixture of pain, anger, and contempt, as though the mere sight of Flash had suddenly reopened every wound she had been trying to forget.
— "How... how dare you come here...?!"
Those few words alone were enough to shake the young man to his core. All the guilt he had carried for weeks suddenly seemed even heavier on his shoulders.
Unable to meet her gaze, he slowly lowered his head before forcing himself to speak once more.
— "... Please, ma'am, I—"
Those few words alone were enough to shake the young man to his core. All the guilt he had been carrying for weeks suddenly seemed to weigh even more heavily on his shoulders.
Unable to meet her gaze, he slowly lowered his head before gathering the courage to speak again.
— "What the hell are you doing here, you little son of a bitch?! You seriously want me to kill you?!"
He was already about to strike him a second time when his wife stopped him just in time. The shouting had drawn the attention of several passersby, who were now slowing down to watch the scene unfold.
The man was trembling with rage, but he eventually forced himself to stop. Meanwhile, Flash slowly pushed himself back up.
Blood trickled from his split lip, and his cheek still burned from the slap. Even so, he remained kneeling before them, without making the slightest attempt to defend himself.
— "GET THE HELL OUT BEFORE I—"
— "The only reason I came here... was to apologize for everything I've done to you. I... I only realized it now, but I've decided to change... and become a better person."
His voice was calm—almost surprisingly calm, considering the situation.
Yet, as he continued speaking, his eyes gradually began to fill with tears. He could feel them welling up despite everything he did to hold them back.
— "Because of me..."
— "Don't cry."
— "Because of me... your son is gone... and you suffered because of what I did."
As he spoke, his expression gradually began to change. The composure he had forced himself to maintain since his arrival slowly gave way to a deep sadness, burdened by overwhelming remorse.
His eyes grew redder and redder, while each breath became more difficult than the last.
— "Don't cry!"
— "I know it won't change anything. I know that nothing I could ever say or do will bring your son back... but I have to tell you..."
He gently leaned down to place the bouquet of flowers in front of the door, almost as if he were afraid of setting it down in the wrong place.
Then, with an almost solemn slowness, he lowered himself fully to his knees before bowing his head until it touched the ground. The tears he had been holding back since the very beginning finally spilled down his face.
— "You don't have the right to cry! They're the ones suffering... not you!"
— "I'm so... so sorry for what I did... for all the pain I caused you...!"
His voice broke completely. His apology echoed through the quiet neighborhood, where no one dared to utter a single word. Even the passersby stood frozen, silent witnesses to the scene unfolding before them.
At last, the woman burst into tears before collapsing into her husband's arms, overwhelmed by the pain and the memories that had come rushing back all at once.
He remained standing, his eyes burning with hatred. In a gesture of pure contempt, he spat on Flash's bowed head. Every part of him seemed to crave one thing—to beat him until his anger was finally spent. Yet he held himself back.
Not out of forgiveness, but because he knew it would only make an already unbearable situation even worse. Unable to endure the pain any longer, his wife eventually went back inside the house.
Before closing the door behind her, the man cast Flash one final icy glare, as though he no longer saw a human being before him, but nothing more than a piece of trash.
— "If you ever come back here again... prison or not... I'll kill you."
Without waiting for any response, he slammed the door shut. The sharp bang echoed throughout the entire street before silence slowly reclaimed its place.
Flash remained motionless for a few moments, still kneeling in front of the house. His head hung low, his face marked by bruises and tears, as he stayed frozen there, as though still searching for words he could have said. But there were none left. Everything he had needed to say had already been spoken.
After a few seconds, he slowly rose to his feet. His body ached, but it was nothing compared to the pain carried by the man and the woman.
He gently picked up the bouquet of flowers, walked back to the front door one last time, and placed it on the doorstep with the utmost respect.
It wouldn't erase anything. He knew that perfectly well. And yet, it was all he had left to offer.
Then he turned away and slowly walked off.
As he made his way down the street, his thoughts naturally drifted back to Paris. One by one, the memories of his conversation with Peter in front of the Eiffel Tower came flooding back.
He remembered their expressions, their words, and the question Peter had asked him: what was the last thing he still had to do before he was truly ready to leave for the army?
At that moment, Flash finally understood what that question had really meant. Without even realizing it, he wiped away the tears that were still streaming down his cheeks, along with the blood that still stained his face.
His steps gradually grew more confident. With his fists clenched, he continued walking down the now silent street. The marks from the blows were still visible on his face, but something in his eyes had changed.
The doubts that had haunted him for weeks were gone. For the first time in a long time, he was moving forward without running away, certain that he had finally faced what he needed to face.
— "Now... I'm ready."
He continued on his way, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His heart remained heavy, burdened with remorse that he would probably carry for the rest of his life, yet he kept moving forward, determined never to become the man he once was again.
That morning, nothing had been forgiven. Nothing had been repaired. And yet, despite it all, something had been born within him.
A brand-new Flash Thompson.
New York — Day
The week following a truck driver's discovery of a mysterious organism, the authorities are immediately alerted.
The specimen is quickly placed under biological containment before being transferred to a research laboratory in New York.
Despite countless analyses, the scientists are unable to determine either its true origin or its nature.
Faced with this dead end, the project's directors make a decision.
They entrust the study of this strange lifeform to two renowned specialists: Curtis and Martha Connors.
At the time, no one imagines that this mysterious substance is far more than just another extraterrestrial lifeform.
TO BE CONTINUED.