Tom Holland/Peter Parker Imagines

aftermath pt. 5 [p.p.]

Summary: If Peter Parker's thoughts had anything in common with the city, it was you.

Warnings: a couple f-bombs, lots of going back and forth with angst and fluff oops

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: it's mentioned that peter x reader met as superheroes but i didn't really talk about it because i wanted the relationship to focus mainly on you two yaknow what i mean 🤷🏻‍♀️ this was a little rough to write honestly. i wrote about 8k words total, all from scenes that didn't make the cut bc i wasn't satisfied at all, but i'm pretty happy with this now so i hope you enjoy! tell me what you think please 😄

text in italics = flashback

•••

4. Depression

Peter Parker, the stubborn boy that he was, kept his word. His thoughts were a broken record, constantly replaying the last words he said to his teammates right before he walked back up to his room in the facility, packed up, and left.

I'm quitting the Avengers. No different thoughts occupied him besides those four words he never would have thought to have spoken. He never even had to promise himself that he would do such a thing because Peter just knew that he would never, but there he was.

He made his way back to his first home, to Aunt May, who delightedly welcomed her nephew with open arms. The boy had almost forgotten about her, having been consumed for months with the thoughts of you. Of course, he was joyed to live with May again, but his brain kept him busy with the routinely mourning to truly be happy with the family reunion. She was glad to have her boy back but quickly learned that his body in the apartment wasn't enough because Peter wasn't there.

Eventually the daily talk of you stopped and was replaced with banter over dinner about a TV show they watched together or how the laundry stopped turning from white to pink. It was apparent that your boyfriend wasn't over what happened, but May knew he didn't want to hear what anyone had to say anymore. Whenever the conversation even slightly brushed the topic of you, Peter narrowly avoided it then eventually isolated himself in his room once again.

He ignored her sorrowful glances every time he walked through the door late at night. May never knew where he went but couldn't bear to ask, only aware that Spider-Man wasn't the one beckoning Peter to the streets. He didn't even know where he went; he only told himself that he was coping healthily by going out for walks even if it meant walking all around New York no matter the time. He always kept his earbuds in, hood up, and face hanging low. Peter made himself a bystander, merely observing his surroundings whether they were good or bad, listening to a playlist you made him while he did so.

Peter caught himself roaming the city in search of you, finding his Y/N in everything. He imagined the warmth of your hand as your fingers would have interlaced with his own, instead of it lonely in his pockets. He was hyperaware of how uncomfortable and empty his arm felt because it wasn't hanging over your shoulders. Whenever he looked up, he was overwhelmed by the color of your eyes that decorated street signs and articles of other people's clothing. Sometimes he caught a whiff of the perfume you wore from a passerby, attacking his senses and overflowing his sight with times from the past. There would be occasional sights of strangers clumsily going about their day, which Peter knew you'd love to laugh about and comment on. People standing a bit too close to him at a street light or in the subway reminded him of your love for his body warmth since the constant cold always roamed over your skin. He would watch his shoes hit the sidewalk and remembered how you were so adamant about not stepping on the cracks, and how he'd poke your side to hear your laugh when he told you it was okay if you did.