Chapter Text
May remembers pain.
She remembers how everything in her body was hurting, her side especially. It was as if someone had taken a hot fire and pressed it against her body, keeping it there until her flesh was searing. But she wasn’t burning, not literally at least, she knew that. It still hurt, and it wasn’t stopping any time soon.
She remembers the pain, gentle hands on her face, soothing her. She was in so much pain, but she didn’t feel scared. She felt numb, she couldn’t seem to move, and yet she felt safe. The hands on her face were soft, and incredibly gentle. She was in so much pain; but it didn’t matter to her.
Because whoever was holding her was keeping her safe, they weren’t going to let anyone harm her more. I’m so sorry, the phrase rang through her head, a broken record, clinging to whatever she could remember. She remembered nothing besides that about that moment.
She does remember waking up in the hospital, still in pain, but significantly less so. Her eyes had travelled over to a chair, an empty chair next to her hospital bed, expecting someone to be there. She doesn’t even know where the thought had come from but for some reason it made sense to her.
“Miss Parker, you’re finally awake,” One of the doctors had spoken to her, an almost relieved smile on her face as she spoke. “How are you feeling? How is the pain?”
“Hurts-” She croaks, because it still did, just less. She remembers the agonising pain, her body shutting down against her will because it got so bad. And yet, she would take that agonising pain any day, because she felt safe. Not now, she felt exposed, vulnerable, lonely, something was wrong, missing.
The doctor had fussed over her injuries, she had explained what injuries she sustained, and what had happened. How her heart had stopped, but they had managed to revive her. At that moment she hadn’t known why she felt so empty, but eventually she couldn’t stop herself from asking why nobody had visited her, and that’s when a lot of things started to make sense for her.
She had been attacked, and they thought it was a targeted attack, there had been reports of a person, dubbed the Green Goblin, flying directly at her. Witnesses at the scene, policemen, and so on, had mentioned that the Goblin seemed to be targeting her specifically. Somehow this person had looked for her.
So when she had been wheeled into the facility, after managing to revive her on route, they hadn’t told the public. Only a couple of trusted doctors working at SHIELD knew that May Parker was alive, but that was it.
“You told him WHAT?” She had screamed at the director, almost ready to jump out of the hospital bed but she knew better. There was a hole in her chest, and she needed to find out why that was. Something was wrong, someone was missing. But finally that made sense, it was Happy that she was missing.
Everything would be better if he was here, but they weren’t allowing it.
“Ma’am, you could still be in danger, we have not caught this Green Goblin yet,”
“Because he’s gone!” She doesn’t know where that came from, but she knew, she knew he was gone. There was this weird feeling of knowing, yet at the same time also not knowing. It was a guess, based on…. something. She wasn’t in danger, so there was no reason to lie to her loved ones that she was gone.
It had taken her half a day to convince the staff to at least let her call Happy, who was somehow her first choice. And not…. she didn’t know who else she’d call before him. She loved her colleagues of course, and had some friends outside of work but Happy, despite their patchy breakup, was a lot closer to her.
And he was beside himself the moment he walked through the door and saw May, alive, for the first time in 3 months. That’s how long she had been out, and stuck in a coma. It was a miracle she survived, but she was glad she did. Still, even in the arms of Happy as he cried tears of happiness… she felt empty.
It was a hole that could never be filled, but she tried to move on anyway.
She got another apartment, and it was only because of her needing one really quickly that she agreed to accept help getting one. It was bigger than her last apartment, which was odd because unlike last time she didn’t need to share it with thr- two people. She had been alone after Ben died.
Happy and her remained good friends, and for a while she was content with her life.
“It feels strange,” May mutters as she stands in front of her own grave, not in the same place as her husband’s like she wanted. There were flowers in front of them, new ones. She smiles sadly at that, because that meant Happy had taken the time to visit her grave, even after realising she was alive and not dead.
It had been 2 weeks at that point, and she had finally managed to settle into her life a bit, reconnect with her friends, and the spot in the hospital was still open by some miracle. The worker who had taken over from her fell on the job, injured himself and had to leave indefinitely because of it.
The hospital was glad to have her back, and her colleagues overjoyed that she was… you know, alive and well.
“It must be strange seeing your own grave,” Happy amends but May shakes her head, walking over to her grave and kneeling before it. Her fingers reach out, tracing over the letters. ‘When you help someone, you help everyone’ that was written on it, but it felt wrong, something didn’t feel right about it.
But she keeps her mouth shut, because how can she tell Happy that she felt like it should say “loving mother” when she never even had kids?
Life continued, and the hole in her chest never closed. It didn’t get any bigger either, but it didn’t go away, not even after months of trying to navigate her new life. The scars and wounds healed up, although it would never go away completely. At least she could hide most of her new scars.
There was the stab wound on her abdomen, gnarly and gruesome but luckily not big. People would notice it, despite the amazing job the doctors had done stitching it up. It was still a big line of scar tissue. There was a small scar on the side of her temple, it had required stitches but it was healed nicely. It was still visible, but only if you really looked at it.
It was a hassle to get her life back on track legally, but somehow Stark industries (When did she meet Tony Stark again?) managed to pull some strings and soon she was working again, could manage her own money again, and was finally fully free from SHIELD and the protective custody.
It had been 5 months since the Green Goblin was last spotted, it was enough, she didn’t want to live in fear anymore. But the hole in her chest remained.
SHIELD had brought boxes worth of her old stuff to her. Nobody could really tell her why she had moved out of her old apartment, or why so many things were damaged, but it was just one of those things that couldn’t be explained anymore, and May couldn’t get herself to think about it much longer.
She was just glad that some stuff remained, old clothes, some furniture, plates that Ben got from his parents. And most valuable were the pictures of course. She had laughed at the pictures because she was reminded of how awful they used to be in the past, or at least, she assumed that was the reason why sometimes there was an empty picture.
Or why there was this weird space between May and Ben. An error, Ben not being able to handle this new technology. That’s what she told herself.
“May, I need a favour,” Her manager came up to her one day, wringing her hands.
“Sebastian called in, he can’t make it tomorrow and we hoped you can fill in for him. I know you don’t like to be in the field but it would just be one time,” Her manager asks, and for a moment all May can do is frown.
“Why wouldn’t I want to be in the field?” She asks, trying to wrack her brain.
“Oh you said it was because of….-” The manager falls silent, frowning as well. “Huh, good question. Remind me again why you stopped working in the field in the first place?” She asks, and May shrugs, she honestly had no idea. She loved working the field, helping people on scene, and making a difference out there.
She had stopped after Ben’s death… but she had no idea why. It was too dangerous out there, more dangerous, and with Ben already gone she had to be there for….
“I have no idea,” May mutters, frowning.
The hole in her chest was still there, and it would probably never leave.
*
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*
Peter wakes up feeling like one giant bruise. Everything was aching and for once it wasn’t just pain. He was still in considerable pain, but it was the way his muscles has clenched the entire night it seemed. He was completely on edge, never truly dozing, or getting the rest he knew his body was already deprived off.
He groans, blinking his eyes open and staring at the cracked ceiling above him. The burn on his shoulder was still there, but he had lost track of every single injury, couldn’t get himself to care much either. All he could think about was May… May May May.. how was she still alive? Was he going insane?
No, he knew what he saw… or did he? It wouldn’t be the first time he had thought he had seen something but it turned out to be false. He needed to know for sure, he needed to know if he wasn’t going crazy and that May was alive.
He climbs out of the bed, hissing as his injuries pulled at his body and his stomach protests from the lack of food. He grumbles, stumbling over to the kitchen and filling a bowl with some cereal. He eats dutifully, staring at the food below him. This was bad… very bad, because if May was truly alive…
Then he couldn’t go to F.E.A.S.T again, not if he wanted to risk her seeing him. What if she recognised him still? What if Strange’s spell somehow didn’t work. He couldn’t put her in danger, not again. He couldn’t afford it. A stab of pain goes through his heart, and he grits his teeth in anger.
“Of course the spell worked, Parker,” He mutters to himself, because if it didn’t… then there was no reason why she hasn’t found him yet. He wasn’t a ghost per se, his employment with the daily bugle was known to the world if you only knew that there was a Peter Parker to find, most didn’t, or rather, most didn’t care.
No, she would never not find him. Or maybe she did remember and she was glad that he was gone. No no no, she wouldn’t, she loved him… loves… loved? Peter didn’t know, but he immediately shakes the thought out of his head. She would find him if she remembered, so he couldn’t take the chance.
He had to assume that the spell worked, because he couldn’t handle knowing that May didn’t want him.
So that left him with figuring out how he hadn’t seen her yet. Clearly she either wasn’t going to F.E.A.S.T or she wasn’t volunteering her usual hours. He grimaces at the thought, because doing this meant less work… but he could maybe get some food at F.E.A.S.T while he was at it.
Even if he had already taken too much this week. There were others who needed it more… not enough to go around for everyone. But maybe… maybe he would take some. He glances at his drawer, knowing there was money for the coffee in there. Could he afford it? But he shakes his head again, he had to.
He quickly shrugs his jacket on, before locking his small apartment behind him and making his way onto the streets of New York. It wasn’t as hot outside as the other few days, it was more pleasant without the scorching heat, and Peter enjoyed the gentle breeze as he walked over to the library.
He was relieved that the receptionist at the desk accepted his lease agreement as valid proof for his library card, because after all, he legally didn’t exist.
There isn’t much to find on May in the last few months, but then again Peter didn’t expect that he would just find everything there was about his aunt. He could find old information, old records, newspapers… Ben’s murder… but where his picture once was… boy who witnessed… there was a blank spot.
Forgotten by everyone except for him, nobody would ever know what he saw.
The only recent document he could find was an article in the Daily Bugle honouring another employee. But May had commented, given a single quote that was published. But it was enough for Peter to know that she was back to being a nurse at the same hospital, not that it surprised him much.
Still, it didn’t explain where she had been, or why there had been a gravestone. He had been there, Happy was there…
Peter frowns slightly, quickly typing Harold Hogan in. Peter was almost overloaded with articles, because of course the man had more to tell, more public. All seemed normal, nothing out of the ordinary, except for the sudden leave of absence the man had taken a few months ago.
Pepper had given no comment, and he had resumed his duties after a three week period. And at that time he had been seen visiting… F.E.A.S.T.
Peter quickly logs off, knowing enough. The three weeks, the sudden appearances at F.E.A.S.T…. that had to be because of May. So what happened in those months where she was gone? And why had the doctors told everyone she had died? Peter feels tears burning in his eyes.
It wasn’t fair, why did they have to do that? Why did they make him think she was dead?
He glances around the library, and found nobody looking at him. Even when his legal status didn’t matter… he was still unseen. It wasn’t busy in the library since it was so early but there were still some people roaming the building. Families, children with their parents, teens that could be alone, and some adults.
Peter feels his heart squeeze painfully at the display. There was one moody teen, clearly unhappy with having to follow his younger brother and mother around. If only Peter could take back when he did that, when he blew off May when she just wanted to spend time with him even if he didn’t.
And now he wouldn’t be able to get that chance again, because even if May was truly still alive… she wouldn’t know him.
Peter sighs, shaking his head before making his way out of the library. The walk over to F.E.A.S.T was predictable at this point, and It took him no effort to walk over there, or any conscious thought. He stills for a moment, looking up at the building with bile in his throat for no apparent reason.
Because he had been here a couple of times before… and even if he managed to spot May for the first time, she wouldn’t recognise him.
Peter walks inside, taking a shuddering breath to calm his nerves. And wasn’t that exactly why he was here? To confirm May was truly alive? Peter glances around, feeling lost in a place he had been so often. There were some familiar faces around him, people who only knew him as the kid who would occasionally drop in.
But to him they were people he knew ever since the blip.
“Can I help you sweetie?” Someone asks, and for a moment Peter expects to see May standing there, but he looks up at another lady, Peter can’t quite remember her name but he knows her. Peter swallows, nodding numbly. “Okay, sit down, I’ll get you something,” She says, and she leads Peter to a table.
Peter’s stomach grumbles, so he reluctantly lets himself be pushed down. He bites his lip as he watches the woman walk to the kitchen, grabbing a plate for him.
“Thank you-” Peter croaks as she hands him the food, no questions asked about why he was here, or why he seemed so young and in need of this. She smiles at him, almost turning around. “Can I ask you something?” He asks, a little breathless. She turns around, nodding.
“Of course you can, do you need anything else?” She asks, but Peter shakes his head. The voice got stuck in his throat for some reason, and he took a moment.
“Is… Is May Parker still working here?” He asks softly, his voice barely audible. The woman seems confused for a moment, and Peter can feel his stomach drop at the silence that spreads. Because of course he had imagined it all yesterday… of course she wasn’t alive. But then her expression morphs.
“Yes she is, just busy with her other job,” She says kindly, and Peter’s eyes jump with tears and he can’t help but release a shaky breath filled with relief. She was…. she was alive… she was really alive.
“I thought-” He tries to croak, but his throat closes up. He saw her… he heard her heartbeat slow down… go quiet. The woman’s face fills with shock, and she gasps.
“Oh honey, did you not know?” She asks, and Peter shakes his head. “Did you know her well before the attack?” She asks, and Peter shrugs slightly. He couldn’t have, not without making her suspicious. He was just a kid who came here for a meal sometimes.
“She just… she seemed kind, she didn’t deserve-” Peter attempts, but he can’t push the words out. The woman seems to understand, taking the chair next to him and patting his hand.
“I understand, she really didn’t, but she’s fine now,” The woman assures her, and Peter nods shakily. She smiles sadly, reaching over for a napkin and giving it to him. Peter chokes on a laugh, accepting it and quickly wiping away his tears. “Eat up, I can’t tell her I let you starve when you clearly need the food,” She says, pushing the plate closer.
There was a shout from the kitchen, someone asking for Kathy to help. The woman sighs, giving him an apologetic smile before getting up.
“Duty calls, you take care honey,” She says, walking away.
*
*
*
She was right, he did need the food. The plate wasn’t the best food, but for him it might as well have been. His stomach certainly didn’t care, but the next time he walked through that door… he finally heard her voice again. He seems to freeze at the sound, not out of breath or scared, just normal.
She was talking in another room, not visible for him. For a moment he’s too shocked to actually listen.
“... be dangerous,” A male voice says, and May huffs out a breath.
“I don’t think so, but he’s up to something,” May admits, and Peter frowns.
“What if he is behind those goblin attacks? He only showed up after you were attacked,” The man offers, and Peter feels as if someone had physically punched him. He stumbles back, eyes widening. They were talking about him!
“I don’t know, Bart, you said he was young. I don’t believe it,” May counters, and Peter’s heart was beating a mile in his chest, slowly taking a step back.
“He did research on you, you said it yourself, you got the alert for your name,” Bart continues, and May sighs. “I’m telling you May, that boy is trouble, he-” But Peter doesn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, and he’s gone before Bart can finish the sentence completely.
Tears sting in his eyes as he runs out of the building, not really sure where he was going. His lungs feel tight, and he can barely take in a full breath. Of course Happy would’ve installed security checks on May’s name, why did he have to be so stupid? May knew someone was looking into her…
And Peter just lost a big portion of his food source.
Which meant one thing… he would have to use his emergency money… his coffeeshop money. He could cry at the thought, because that meant he couldn’t see MJ… couldn’t see Ned. No… he couldn’t.. he needed to see them today, he couldn’t just not see them. But it was barely Tuesday morning and MJ wouldn’t be in until tomorrow afternoon.
So that just left one option. Peter sighs, knowing it was a bad idea, but really when had that stopped him before?
Peter quickly makes his way home, locking the door and shrugging his clothes off before grabbing his Spider-Man costume. He stops for a moment, glancing at himself in the corner where a broken mirror was. He looked thin, far too thin for his liking. It was almost like he was staring back at his 14 year old body.
Before the spider bite, before he gained a ton of muscle overnight, before Uncle Ben… before the Vulture incident and just… everything.
Peter shakes his head, not wanting to think about it. He just needed more food, if he could find a way to find food elsewhere then he would be alright. Maybe he could find another kitchen that would help him. He couldn’t go as Spider-Man, that was for sure, but maybe some would…
No, he couldn’t do that either. There were people who needed it more than him, he couldn’t just use his Spider-Man persona to get more food.
Peter sighs, feeling a little bit dizzy as he stands up and crawls out of the window. He takes a deep breath before jumping off the building.
*
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*
It becomes a routine after that, the entire week he continues to struggle for money throughout the day, but he can never keep himself from going out as Spider-Man. He knows MJ would be glad he was taking money out of the coffee savings, and using it on food instead but she wouldn’t understand.
She wouldn’t understand what it was like to be forgotten, and to have your only lifeline taken away. MJ and Ned were the only thing of his old life that he was clinging to, and now he knew he couldn’t afford them anymore. He couldn’t get himself to find the food somewhere else, or go back to F.E.A.S.T.
Maybe he didn’t deserve his friends either. Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? To keep them safe.
In a month or so they would be gone, and he would probably never see them again. Maybe they would come back for the holidays, a week at most, and then they’d be gone. Soon they would find lives elsewhere, and they … they would never know that he was still here. But at least they would be safe.
It was for the best, he would stop seeing them, move on. They wouldn’t miss him, and he could make sure they were still safe, he would make sure Spider-Man was always there to look after them. So for the next following days he did just that. He knew their schedules, and slowly he was learning May’s schedule.
Every time they would walk around the neighbourhood he would follow them, making sure they were safe, that nobody was bothering them. Nobody ever did, they all got home safe, oblivious to him standing there. They all had lives, away from him, but it meant that they were safe.
So he tore his eyes away from Ned’s front door, where the boy had just walked through, and he continued his patrol. It was relatively quiet on the street, which scared Peter.
There was still plenty of crime to stop, but it was mostly petty crimes, people robbing old ladies, or some thugs causing trouble. Peter was glad there wasn’t some major crime, he had learned not to hope for a major villain. But he knew that the Scorpion and his goons were still out there.
And he wouldn’t come back unless he had a plan to take on Spider-Man.
Peter sighs, stopping on the rooftop for a moment and watching the city. Some people noticed him, shouting at him as he swung, but he mostly ignored them. At least the mystery of the glowing weapons had been solved. Scorpion had gotten them through Adrian Toomes, who was now dead.
Peter had checked a couple of days ago, after that fateful day at F.E.A.S.T. It hadn’t been the headline, but it was in the newspaper. Adrian Toomes was dead, murdered in prison by a rogue guard. At least, that’s what the story was, Peter didn’t buy it. One way or the other, Adrian was dead.
And Scorpion had taken over his business. MacDonald “Mac” Gargan, that was the full name of the man in the Scorpion costume, but ever since that night it seems his nickname of the Scorpion had stuck. The man had escaped the same night Adrian Toomes was murdered, which couldn’t be a coincidence.
Another problem Peter had to deal with, but not now. He had bigger problems, higher priorities.
So when the familiar scream of a New Yorker echoed through the air, his mind shut off, and he allowed himself to drop from the building. Civilians were a higher priority right now.
*
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*
Christmas had been bad. His aunt and him had never been religious, but Christmas had always been the day where it was just them. He couldn’t really remember his Christmases with his parents, but he remembered them with Ben and May. They had always gone out of their way to make him feel as loved as possible.
When it was just the three of them he had gotten presents, a medium sized Christmas tree, and just an entire day filled with fun activities were they would just stay in, wear ugly Christmas sweaters and enjoy take-out since aunt May still couldn’t cook, not even Christmas changed that.
Peter felt the safest on those days. Despite the freezing cold outside, he knew he was surrounded by a loving environment, and that made everything better.
The first Christmas after Ben’s death had been hard. Neither of them truly knew what to do, and the lack of income ensured they couldn’t afford a Christmas tree at all. But the two of them had made it work despite that. They had decorated the apartment anyway with Christmas decorations from previous years.
May had bought some small presents for him, and Peter had used some of his money to do the same. They couldn’t spend much, but that wasn’t really necessary. Despite the weird start of the day, they eventually fell into a familiar, yet staunchly different, tradition on Christmas that really only happened 2 more times.
Waking up on Christmas day after Strange’s spell had been a punch to his gut, and for a moment he remembers thinking that no day would be as bad as this one. Nothing would be worse than spending Christmas alone.
Peter was wrong.
Of course Peter was wrong about this. Because when could he ever catch a break? Christmas day wasn’t the worst day to spend alone. Seeing all the happy families on Christmas when he was alone was nothing compared to the worst day to spend alone; it was waking up alone on his birthday.
Tears sting in his eyes as he realises that he’s spending his 18th birthday, alone. May wouldn’t be barging into his room, way more excited than he was, with a god awful cake that was just there for decoration because they both knew that anything May made wasn’t even edible to begin with.
Peter appreciated the gesture either way, and Peter found himself staring at his front door for a moment. Which didn’t make sense… she didn’t remember him. Nobody did, and nobody would be there to reminder that it was his birthday. Peter rubs the tears from his eyes, peeling the blanket from his body.
He had gone to bed early last night, and his body was only throbbing with the dull pain instead of the constant aching pain from the last few days. Who knew sleep would actually be beneficial for him, and help him recover from the various wounds that were in different states of healing.
(“The most stupid genius in Queens”) Tony had called him, but with heaps of affection on his face. Peter hadn’t even disputed it at that time, nor would he do so now.
Peter silently get dressed, making his breakfast and sitting down. He would allow himself one day… one day of rest before he had to focus on the money again. For once he had things to do, obligations to attend to that were just for Peter Parker. It wasn’t like someone was there to check on him, but he had to anyway.
After breakfast he cleans up after himself before putting on a jacket and walking outside. Nobody was looking at him, nobody knew. 18 years old, May would’ve been besides herself today, coddling him, kissing his cheeks and complaining about him growing up too fast even though Peter couldn’t help it.
Maybe technically he could since the Snap had messed up a lot. Including his birthday as he hadn’t blipped back exactly 5 years after he had been blipped away. The decision was made to keep birthdays the same, and hold off on adding an extra year, making him technically 18 years old, even if he had lived close to 19.
And he had seen much more than he should’ve in those years.
Peter shudders slightly, stopping at a stall, and digging into his pocket, to feel the money as if he was afraid that it would be gone by now.
“What can I get for a dollar?” He asks the man, and he looks up. He gives him a nice smile, glancing at his flowers.
“Any flower, pick your favourite,” The man says, and Peter doesn’t even have to think about it, glancing at the bright yellow sunflower, pointing to it. The man hums. “Excellent choice, you have good taste, sir,” He says, and Peter huffs out a laugh at the sir. He doesn’t elaborate, knowing the man wouldn’t understand.
“Thank you,” Peter says, handing the man the dollar and gratefully accepting the flower. “Have a nice day,” He waves at the man, walking away. The sunflower was carefully tucked away as he made his way through the streets of New York until he reached his destination, much more quiet.
He takes a deep breath, walking into the graveyard. It was quiet, which Peter was glad for as he makes the familiar route that he has taken so often. He remembers feeling guilty so many times for knowing Ben’s grave better than his parents’ graves, but he couldn’t help it. Ben was his fault… and maybe more of a dad to him than Richard Parker actually was.
He stops in front of the grave, feeling his heart squeeze at the date. It was a total fluke that made Ben’s birthday on the same day as his, the 10th of August. And it had made his first birthday after his death so much more painful. But Aunt May and him had made it work, had made it a tradition.
They wouldn’t spend his birthday alone, they wouldn’t spend May’s birthday alone either, but hers was still to come. They would take the day off, regardless of school or work, and they would spend it together, visit Ben’s grave and just chat as if he was there, and make him feel included in the family.
Because he still had a family, that didn’t change.
“Hey Ben,” Peter rasps, only now realising how clogged his throat was. Tears were in his eyes, but he couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. He kneels in front of the grave, putting the sunflower in front of the gravestone. It had always been Ben’s favourite flower, something about the positivity it signified.
Peter never really understood the meaning behind flowers. He just liked the colour, how radiant it was. And it reminded him of the Saturdays where Ben would come home with a giant bouquet of sunflowers for May, and it would fill the entire room it seemed. Brightening up the place, and making it home.
Peter couldn’t get himself to talk, but he didn’t think Ben would mind. So he just stays there, shifting his position until he is sitting on the ground, knees drawn to his chest and staring at Ben’s grave. There were so many things he wanted to tell his uncle, but he couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find what to focus on. How could he even explain not visiting for months?
(“It’s okay Pete, I know you,”) Ben always did know him, could read him, understand him without Peter having to say anything. He missed that, but he was glad for the memory. So he stayed there, until his butt started to grow numb from the hard ground under him, but he still didn’t move.
He sighs, taking a shuddering breath, shifting on the spot. His hearing strains slightly, hearing someone approach, but his tingle doesn’t go off so he ignores it. It was probably someone else that had a loved one close to Ben. He huffs slightly, leaning his chin on his knees and blinking a couple of times.
He remembers the first time he was here with May, feeling so out of place and most importantly, not knowing how to react at all. He still missed Ben, that never changed, but he didn’t feel sad that day. It felt wrong to not cry, it felt weird to not be sad, and it made the first visit very unpleasant.
It took him a few visits to realise that there was no proper reaction to visiting your loved ones, not after seeing a man and his sibling laying on the grass just playing some games in front of a gravestone that belonged to someone they knew and loved. They were laughing, enjoying their time.
That’s when Peter realised that he didn’t need to be sad when visiting Ben, he could laugh, he could cry, whine… as long as it felt right for May and him.
He didn’t feel like talking today, and Peter knew that that was alright. Everyone had a different way to process grief, and trauma. The footsteps stop, and Peter frowns slightly as he realises how close those footsteps were, much closer than he had expected. Besides, there weren’t any graves over where the person was standing.
Peter shudders, glancing up from Ben’s grave and turning his head towards the sound, and dread washes over him. He can see the exact moment where May sees him, locks eyes with him and her entire body goes stiff. For a moment he can’t breathe, he can’t move a muscle because he doesn’t know what to think.
Was it recognition? Or just surprised that some random kid was sitting in front of her late husband’s grave?
But no, it was definitely recognition that washed over her face, and for a moment, Peter can feel a little flicker of hope in his chest…
Only for it to be immediately extinguished when May opens her mouth to utter one single name that made Peter realise… May didn’t recognise him, she recognised someone else… someone that he looked like.
“Richard?”
His dad.