Chapter 2 – "A New Name, A New Life"
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting soft golden shapes across the bedroom wall. The scent of maple syrup and toast drifted in from the hallway. Somewhere, a radio was playing jazz, the kind Uncle Ben always hummed along to.
Eli lay still for a while, watching the ceiling fan rotate above him. He heard footsteps in the hall, light ones, running. Then the door swung open.
"You're awake!" Peter beamed, already halfway into the room. "You're always up before me, lazybones. Aunt May made pancakes. Hurry or Ben'll eat yours again!"
The boy was full of unfiltered energy and trust. He had no idea how strange this morning was for the person lying in front of him.
Eli forced a smile. "Alright, alright. I'm coming."
Peter darted out again, leaving the door swinging open behind him.
Eli sat up slowly. The bed was his, no doubt. There were photos on the walls, drawings in crayon of two brothers with capes, trophies from middle school science fairs, even a high school ID with Eli Parker printed clearly beneath his smiling face.
He got up and stood in front of the mirror.
The face looking back was… him, but younger. Fresher. No scars. No burn marks. No bruises from back-alley fights or police batons. His skin was smooth, his shoulders lean but athletic. His hands were callous-free.
This was his body, but untouched by pain.
"Eli Parker," he said aloud.
The name rolled off his tongue too easily, like he'd said it his whole life. According to this world, he had.
He closed his eyes.
In another life, his name had been Elias Cruz. In that world, he'd stood between cruelty and innocence, between silence and justice. He'd died for a child he didn't know.
Now he lived beside a boy who called him brother.
Downstairs, the scent of pancakes grew stronger.
He followed it.
The kitchen was cozy and cluttered, the table covered in newspapers and condiment jars. Aunt May was at the stove flipping pancakes, humming softly to herself. Uncle Ben sat at the table, sipping coffee, already dressed for the hardware store.
"There he is," Ben said with a grin. "The house ghost. Up before noon? Must be a holiday."
Eli took a seat across from Peter, who was already halfway through his second pancake. "Good morning," he said, the words feeling strange even though they shouldn't.
May set a plate in front of him. "You didn't forget your backpack again, did you?" she asked.
"No. I think I've got everything," he replied quickly, even though he hadn't touched the thing yet.
Peter leaned over, mouth full. "I told Mr. Kent you'd come with me to the science fair next week! They're letting us use dry ice and everything."
Eli blinked. "Science fair?"
"Don't worry," Ben said. "You promised already. I remember because you called it 'nerd Christmas.'"
Peter laughed, almost snorting milk through his nose. Eli smiled.
He didn't remember that. But this version of him did.
He watched the way May set Peter's hair straight with a palm. The way Ben wiped a bit of syrup off the corner of her apron. The way Peter looked at both of them like nothing in the world could go wrong.
Eli had lived in a world where things did go wrong. Constantly. And often violently. But here, this was different.
Was it real?
Was he allowed to be here?
He wasn't sure. But he didn't want to lose it.
The walk to school was simple. Eli carried both their bags while Peter hopped from sidewalk crack to sidewalk crack, arms out like wings.
"Do you think birds ever wish they could go to school?" Peter asked suddenly.
"Why would they?" Eli asked, amused.
"So they could learn why humans build so many square buildings," Peter answered, dead serious.
Eli laughed softly. "You're a strange kid, Peter."
"I'm not strange. I'm curious."
"Strange and curious aren't opposites."
Peter grinned. "Then maybe I'm both."
At Midtown High, Peter ran off to his homeroom with a quick wave, vanishing into a sea of backpacks and hallway noise. Eli, on the other hand, walked into his senior classes like a ghost among strangers.
People greeted him. Teachers nodded. Girls smiled at him.
He played the part. Answered questions. Laughed when expected.
But in truth, he felt like an impostor wearing a familiar face.
At lunch, he sat beneath a tree behind the science wing. Three boys nearby were mocking another kid for his accent. Eli stood, walked over, and gave them a look.
He didn't need to threaten.
His eyes did enough.
They backed off. The boy they'd mocked stared at Eli, wide-eyed, as if expecting more. Eli just nodded and returned to his seat.
That was enough.
It always had been.
In gym class, something strange happened.
He was doing push-ups when the coach clapped and told everyone to do cool-down stretches. As Eli reached for his water bottle and twisted the cap, the aluminum cracked beneath his grip.
He froze.
The bottle was crushed in his hand, like a paper cup.
No one saw it.
He set it down slowly and stared at his fingers.
That night, his dreams were a blur of white flame and flickering shadows. Voices echoed faintly, too many to count, saying words he didn't recognize, but still understood.
"Wait a little longer."
"Endure."
"You've earned it."
He woke up covered in sweat. His chest throbbed with quiet energy, a heartbeat that didn't feel like his own.
The next day, he took Peter to a used bookstore after school.
Peter talked about string theory, comic books, and dinosaurs all at once. Eli let him talk. He liked listening. He liked the way Peter's voice sped up when he was excited. He liked the way he called him "bro" like they'd always been siblings.
Maybe in this world, they had.
Inside the bookstore, Peter ran ahead to the science section. Eli lingered behind, running his fingers over the spines of worn-out classics. He paused on a familiar title: To Kill a Mockingbird.
He remembered reading it in the old world. Quoting Atticus Finch during a protest. Holding a cardboard sign that read "Justice for the voiceless."
"I died in a world where no one noticed," he whispered. "Now I'm alive in a world that might need me."
He turned and watched Peter point excitedly at a physics textbook.
This world had heroes. Some were gods. Some were monsters.
But Peter? He was still just a boy.
Eli knew what was coming. Somewhere down the line, the world would change. The innocent would be forced to bleed. Spider-Man would be born. Ben would die. Tragedy would shape destiny.
Unless he could change that.
Unless he could hold the line first.
He walked home that evening with a bag of books in one hand, Peter's chatter in the other, and something unknown pulsing faintly in his chest.
Not magic. Not science.
A burden. A gift. A spark of something deeper than power.
One For All… waiting.
End of Chapter 2