Peter Parker sat at his usual table, tearing open a bag of chips he wasn't really going to eat. Across from him, Ned was mid-story about something from his LEGO Death Star build. MJ had her nose in a book, occasionally chiming in with dry commentary. Normal. Predictable. Safe.

A few tables away, Y/n sat alone.

Not in the isolating, lonely way that drew pity. They just… preferred it. Or maybe the school had assigned them there. New kid logic. Either way, Y/n kept their head down, tracing patterns into the laminate tabletop with a fingertip. Occasionally wincing. Pressing a hand to their chest. Always subtle. Quick. Like they didn't want anyone to notice.

Peter noticed.

He always noticed things like that. The quiet tells. The half-hidden flinches. He was a friendly kid. Open. He'd tried to say hi to Y/n twice this week. Both times, they'd smiled politely and found an excuse to leave.

Something about that bothered him. Not the rejection. The something behind it.

The bell for lunch had rung thirty minutes ago. The line was dying down. The lunch lady was wiping down the counter. Normal.

Then Peter's head snapped up.

His Spider-Sense screamed.

Not the distant hum of general danger. Not the prickle of a kid about to trip. This was loud. Sharp. A full-body alarm that yanked him out of his seat before he even knew why.

His eyes scanned the cafeteria. Ned was still talking. MJ glanced up at him, brow furrowed. No threat at the doors. No windows breaking.

Then he saw Y/n.

Their hand was pressed flat against their chest now. Not subtle. Not quick. Firm. White-knuckled. Their face had gone pale. And beneath their shirt—

A light.

Blue-white. Pulsing. Bleeding through the fabric like a heartbeat made visible.

A few nearby students were starting to notice. Heads turning. Pointing.

Y/n's eyes went wide. They scrambled to their feet. The chair screeched against tile.