Reminded

chapter 9

Peter looked up at the gray sky and felt the mist of the air. It was sticky out, but it was cold. Cold enough for Peter to try to seek warmth and comfort in the sleeves of his cuffed, expensive suit. The fabric provided him no comfort, it felt foriegn against his skin that was covered in goosebumps.

He closed his fists tightly, making moon shape imprints in his palm from his nails, threatening to draw blood. The sound of the crane lowering Mays casket into the ground flooded into his ears. It was the most terrifying sound he had ever heard. Like nails on a chalkboard, but it made him want to run in fear.

It felt like he hadn't moved in days. His feet planted in the maintained grass. It felt like he was the one being buried. It should have been him. Aunt May had a whole life, she had a great job and a heart of gold. She had a comforting glow, warm hands and a bright smile. She had a way of making everything fun. What does he have going for him? Shitty 'superhero' who breaks down every 5 minutes. This isn't fair.

Peter un anchored his feet from the ground and followed every instinct that told him to run far away from the whole in the ground that his aunt was being placed in. He was familiar with the layout of the cemetery. It was the one Ben had been buried in. He remembered cleaning his grave stone and bringing flowers to it with Aunt May. The road was familiar, the direction he was running was familiar.

With no real destination in mind, he ran as fast as his legs could take him, not worried about whose heads would turn in question of his abnormally fast speeds. Spiderman didn't mean anything anymore, so why should he care. Subconsciously ignoring every call of his name he heard echo behind him, His dress shoes leaving fresh wounds in the back of his heels, and the collar of his shirt became restricting.

He was running along the busy streets of Queens, rubbing his neck trying to release it from the tight fabric in the process. His eyes glossed over as he realized no matter how far he ran, no matter what destination he'd end up at, aunt may never be at the end of it.

Muscle memory brought him to his, what was now, his old apartment. He knew somebody must have already gone through it but he had full intentions of kicking the door down if it was locked. He hurriedly reached out onto the long door handle and was surprised when the door opened without any forcing. Everything was how it had been before the accident. The couch sitting with a tin holding walnut date loaf on the coffee table. Her candles sitting on the kitchen counter, along with the newspaper for that week as well as a festering pile of previous ones from the past weeks before that neither of them bothered to throw away. He stood still in the middle of the kitchen. He was aware that his breathing was loud, filling up the full, yet empty space.

His legs brought him to his room, all of his clothes still crumpled up on the floor, a bag of open doritos on his bed, a keyboard that he had pulled out of the trash the year before sitting on his desk, web fluid taunting him from the corner of the room. There was nothing here he wanted. Nothing that he wanted to pick up and hold in his hand, he wanted May to come back. He wanted to walk back out into the kitchen to see her miserably failing at cooking and agreeing to go out for Larb.

He slowly and numbly walked into Mays room, holding onto the wall as he went, just to have something to balance his frail frame. The door opened and the scent of her perfume filled his nose. Her room was neat, clothes folded nicely on her bed, waiting to be put into her drawers, jewelry hung delicately from a stand. It was all too much for Peter. The lump in his throat was accompanied by the sudden urge to vomit. He ran into the bathroom that he had gotten ready in every morning for almost all of his life and emptied out the little contents in his stomach. He laid his head on the toilet, he was crying so violently he could hear his tears hit the water.

This isn't real. This isn't real. He tried to convince himself, but it all was real. He made no attempt to dry his tears that just kept falling. He couldn't bear the thought that he was in the apartment the may had walked in less than two weeks ago. He took it all for granted. He will never see her smile again, he will never see her open her arms, inviting him into them after a hard day, he will never hear her sing quietly to the radio, he will never not feel alone again.

His tears had worn him out, and he struggled to keep his eyes open, nore did he want to. He drifted off to sleep on the bathroom floor, leaving puddles underneath him.

"Peter, honey, I know you're upset but please talk to me" Mays warm comforting voice said as she entered Peter's room. Her long brown hair peeked from behind her back, and her skinny arms crossed over her chest as she leaned in the doorway

Peter's head shot up, and his eyes became wide and dried out. "May?" He said urgently as he turned his head to see her comforting features.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you but it wasnt time yet. You wouldn't have been safe. I did what was best for you because I love you." She tried to negiotate

"No may it's okay, you did what was best. please. I'm so sorry, May" He said, tears welling up in his dry eyes

"I'm glad you understand. I love you, baby, I'm going to go start on dinner. After that fails, Ill order us a pizza. Hows that sound" she said winking, before turning around and walking towards the kitchen

'That sounds like all I could ever ask for right now' Peter thought to himself. He quickly ran out of his room, catching up to may. He attempted to hug her back, tightly but ran straight through her.

"May!" He yelled. But she didn't hear

"May please!" he yelled through tears again, but she kept taking pots out of the pantry, looking in the fridge, washing her hands.

"Please I need you here! Please! May I cant do it without you." He yelled, getting quiet towards the end.

"Peter!" He heard his name being yelled.

"Pete you gotta wake up" He felt hands on his shoulders.

Peters eyes shot open, bloodshot and overflowing with tears.

"Oh my god" Tony breathed out, relieved that he finally knew the kid was safe. All of his anger from him running away onto the dangerous streets subsided when he saw his red eyes, and small, frigid body laying on the cold, non heated apartment.

"Kid" He started, sitting on the floor and pulling Peter into him. His instinct to comfort Peter was outwaying every other emotion that was flooding in with this whole situation. Peter was heavily crying now, trying to pull himself closer into tony even though he was basically in his lap at that point. Peter breathed in tony's chest, it wasnt may, it wasn't anything like may. But the smell of his usual aftershave was the most comforting thing he could have asked for in that moment and was the only thing grounding him from going back into that dream.

Tony was worried sick, after he saw Peter run away he knew he would come to the apartment, but it was the first time he didn't have eyes on Peter since this whole thing happened and as much as he hated to admit that he had fell into multiple panic attacks over not knowing where he was, it happened.

Peter pushed himself away from Tony, attempting to stand up. Even though he was successful he was wobbly. "What are you doing" Tony said, his words coming out harsher than he meant them to be.

"I need to get some of her stuff. I can't leave it here" Peters voice wavered as he spoke unconfidently.

"No. We will have someone come back for this" tony said. He was not about to let the kid go into a full hyperventilating episode. He wouldnt mind helping him out of it, but every time he sees Peter struggling for air, begging for help, his mind races and worry takes over his usually strong and confident body.

"I need to do this!" Peter yelled back. He almost sounded drunk, pushing towards her room door.

Tony got up and walked towards Peter. "No. Im not going to let you hurt yourself like this. Were leaving." He said demandingly.

Peter turned around to face him with anger in his face. He opened his mouth to argue back and Tony grabbed his head, pushing it into his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around him for dear life.

"Whats wrong with me." Peter sobbed.

"Nothing is wrong with you, kid." tony comforted.