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[WORD COUNT: 2.9k]
This is only the beginning.
▹ ◃
The last few days couldn't have even bothered to spare you the pity of leaving you in the six-foot grave they had dug you.
Four days.
Four days had passed since you last received the text from Peter alerting you that the date had to be pushed back because of Spider-Man duties. You understood, he had a responsibility to the city. Four days, however, and still you had heard not a single word from him. You'd heard plenty of other noises though.
At first, you had been deeply concerned, heart jumping into your throat every time the thought of him laying dead in a ditch somewhere, covered in bruises and gashes and who knows what else crossed your mind. You'd call, text, and even knocked on the door of his apartment more times than you could count, hoping for some kind of sign that he was alive. But there was nothing.
Three days passed before you heard the first sound of movement coming from Peter's apartment.
In those brutal 72 hours, your mind had practically shut down. Switched to aeroplane mode and shut out the rest of the world. You'd slipped into a darkness that couldn't be worn off by the blink of a light. This darkness was sticky and clung to your skin like the hot sweat that cowered on the land of your forehead. After trying and trying to get in contact with Peter, resorting to searching the streets, walking around in circles painting yourself to be some kind of Spider-Man super fan, lunatic as you asked people around if they had seen the suited hero, but nothing. There had been no sign of him for days.
You had no one to turn to, no one to call or text or be within this time of need. There was no one around to help you find your Peter. No one but your old nemesis, a packet of Newport cigarettes and a bottle of JD whiskey to carry you through the long nights and dreary days. You knew you should stop, give up the drink and drop the smoke, but your mind told you otherwise. There was nothing else for your anxiety to feed upon other than the fact that Peter was still missing. Did you file a report? Call the police? You feared the consequences.
It wasn't until the fourth day finally hit as you passed through your living room to collect the lighter from the kitchen counter that you heard it. The faint, almost silent shuffle that came from within the walls. At the time you had frozen in place, hearing nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat clattering in your ears as the time came to a stop.
Amid panic and excitement, you'd darted to the wall like a fly on speed, pressing your ear to the fine brick as you listened closely. For a moment there was nothing, then came the shuffles, followed by voices. Even through the barrier that separated you, you knew Peter's voice. It was him, he was there, but so was someone else. He wasn't alone.
