Archive of Our Own ^beta

When they were told it came as a shock. To all of them. 

Ned was told by his mother, her face pale and her expression haunted like he had never seen before. She asked him to sit down please and Ned was worried, of course he was, but when she said those words they didn’t register in his brain for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, seconds ticking by agonizingly slow. The words floated around in Ned’s head aimlessly until finally, he understood their meaning.

“What?” he asked, voice faint and airy as if it didn’t belong to him. He was bubbly and easily excited but now there wasn’t even the faintest echo of it in his voice.

His mom held his hand across the dark wooden table in their kitchen, rubbing her thumb back and forth soothingly. Her gaze held so many different emotions when she repeated it. Those awful words. 

“Ben died.”

Ned was sure he had stopped breathing for a full minute. “What?” The word tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. It sounded pained, strangled almost even to his own ears. “But… but how, he…”

His mother tried to reassure him with a faint smile but her lips trembled and her eyes got teary. Her voice shook when she spoke. “He… he was shot.”

Something inside Ned broke that day. Ben Parker had been one of the coolest adults he had ever known. He was always in a good mood, he welcomed Ned like he was his own son, high-fived him for good results on his tests, hugged him for his birthday, ruffled his hair when he was laughing. He treated Ned like every kid would love to be treated. He didn’t care Ned was heavier than other kids and didn’t like playing football. He wasn’t the kind of male adult who would enforce masculine character traits or who told little boys to ‘man up’. No, when Peter and Ned had cried while watching a movie he had just rubbed their shoulders in silent support without teasing or nagging.

Ben took them to the pool and around Manhattan to museums and cool secret spots when he had the time. The adoration he had for Peter, his nephew, was one every child could only wish for. Peter was his kid, no matter what relations said. He picked him up and put him on his shoulders, he did his homework with him, taught him how to flip pancakes properly and how to fix the brakes on his bike. He was there when Peter wanted to vent or when Peter needed a hug. Always, he was always there whenever Peter needed him.

For every birthday, Ned’s or Peter’s, Ben would come up with a new cake or a new design. He seemed to pull them out of thin air, presenting them with a dramatic flourish and a proud grin on his face. He had never been the best artists but he had managed to draw an R2D2 with frosting on year and another year he had cut the cake in the shape of the Millenium Falcon.

Ben Parker also loved his wife. He and May were a force to be reckoned with. The two of them would throw flour at one another and then dance in the middle of the kitchen like it was no one’s business. They’d pull Peter into their silly dance, squish him in the middle of them to let him know he was loved and adored and kiss his cheeks which always managed to embarrass Peter to no end. 

Ned has always had so much admiration and respect for Ben Parker. He was a role model, a great parent, a good husband and overall just an amazing person. Someone like him…

Someone like him deserved the perfect life and deserved to live forever. 

When Ned found out Peter had been there, had… had witnessed everything, had seen his uncle die in front of him, Ned didn’t know how to cope with that. Even worse, he didn’t know how Peter was supposed to cope. They were fourteen, they were kids. They liked to joke they were almost adults but no, they were kids. Young and inexperienced, seeing the world through a colorful lens which seemed to filter out all the bad and horrifying things that went on it the world. They had the privilege to be blissfully unaware and live without the fear of responsibilities but now this.

Peter who has had to live through a lot of traumatic experiences, who had lost his parents, who struggled with school and a disability, who loved May and Ben to the moon and back, whose lense was already appearing a bit less colorful than other kids’ their age… Peter who had seen his uncle die in front of him.

His mom told Ned, carefully and gently, that Peter… She hesitated, long enough to let Ned know he should assume the worst.

When he arrived at the Parker’s apartment he tried to be strong but then May opened the door and… and Ned just couldn’t. He couldn’t be strong no matter how much he had promised himself he would be.

“May I… I’m so sorry,” Ned managed to croak out, eyes filling up with tears faster than he could try to blink them away. 

May was shocked into silence for a moment and then she tried to be strong, Ned could see it in her eyes, but she couldn’t stop her own tears from spilling over. 

“Oh Ned…” She extended one arm and that was all it took. Ned crashed into her, clutching at her sweater as he sobbed into the fabric. For a moment May tried to soothe him but her voice was too weak. Her shoulders trembled as she stroked Ned’s hair like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. 

They remained like this for minutes, May’s arms around Ned remaining tight like she was trying to hold him together. Ned tried to return the gesture, the offer any comfort he could. When he pulled back her eyes were red but May managed a sad smile to hide it. 

“If… if you want to check on Peter,” she said, voice rough. She cleared her throat and sniffed. “He… he’s been… quiet mostly. I-” she took a shaky breath and wiped at her cheeks. “I think he needs a friend if you… if you can…” There was an unsure question laced in her words, a hint of hesitation to ask this of a child but Ned didn’t care. He nodded his head. Being a friend is the least he could do. 

May stepped aside and Ned shuffled into the apartment. It should feel different and somehow it did but it wasn’t enough. It should feel empty and off and strange but… it didn’t. It felt the same as usual, like Ben was just downstairs in the café or like he was running errands. It felt like he was simply not here right now but he would never be here ever again and… The reality, the severity of that hadn’t set in yet and Ned wondered if it ever would.

He knew there would be a funeral soon but… all of that seemed to take place in a different dimension, in another reality. Ben wasn’t really dead he-... he couldn’t be. Ned would wake up any second and when he opened the door to Peter’s room Ben would be there, looking up and grinning when he saw Ned. He’d offer a high five which Ned would return and then he’d ask if they wanted to try the cookies he had sitting in the oven. Everything would be normal, nothing would be different.

Somehow Ned convinced himself this was what would happen and he clung to it desperately. It was the only hope he had.

When he pushed open the door carefully there was no Ben turning around to greet him. Instead, he was greeted by an empty room, void of Ben. Ned swallowed heavily, eyes searching until he found Peter. His friend was seated on his bed, leaning against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest and in his arms was the dog plushie Ben had won for him at a fair four years ago. There was an eerie silence within the room. It felt hollow and cold and distant. Ned wasn’t sure if Peter’s room had ever felt like this to him before or if he was merely imagining things, if perhaps his brain was just playing tricks on him.

Peter slowly turned his head towards the door and Ned’s heart ached so much it was almost unbearable. Peter was pale and his eyes were… they were empty and yet filled with sorrow and pain. He looked like a shell, like his soul had been ripped out of his body and released into the void of cold and dark space. His expression was blank and didn’t change when his eyes fell onto Ned. He just stared, unmoving.

Ned’s throat closed up because this, this was real. There was no denying it. May had been real, the empty apartment had been real, the hollow emptiness had been real. All of it was real. There was no going back, there was no turning back time with a fancy machine, no waiting for Ben to come back.

This was real and this would not change.

“Pete,” Ned managed to get out, voice strangled and eyes burning. 

Peter just blinked once slowly. 

Ned pushed the door close behind him and stalked over to the bed. He crawled up next to his friend who was still just staring blankly. Ned sniffed and pulled him into his chest carefully, afraid of breaking the fragile composure Peter seemed to have. He had started to grow a bit recently so he was almost as tall as Ned but right now he felt impossibly small, like a delicate glass sculpture with cracks all over it, just waiting to break with the next gust of wind. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Ned whispered into Peter’s shoulder, arms tight around his slender frame and hands grasping at whatever they could reach. 

Ned couldn’t stop his own tears from flowing again and for a long time he thought he was the only one. The scary thought of Peter never finding his soul again crossed his mind. The thought of his best friend’s mind being in shambles and shards that no one could ever put back together terrified him. Ned tried to keep him whole, he just feared he couldn’t. The colorful lens he had been viewing the world through was starting to dim at a rapid pace.

It was only when he could feel one of Peter’s hand slowly coming up to grasp onto Ned’s hoodie and the quiet sob that reached his ears that Ned knew he wasn’t the only one. He tightened his hold. “I got you,” he mumbled because it was the only thing he could do and that was probably when the dam broke. 

It started small, just quiet hiccups but they quickly got stronger and turned into sobs until Peter was all but wailing into Ned’s shoulder. He cried his eyes out, his whole body shook and he coughed and sniffed and sobbed and he didn’t stop. Ned held him tightly, held him together because he was afraid Peter would shatter into a million broken pieces if he ever let go. He was afraid Peter would fall apart right here and some pieces of him would get lost. Ned didn’t want that, he didn’t want to lose his best friend. He never wanted to let go. If he had to hold Peter and keep him together for the rest of his life he’d do it without hesitation.

Peter didn’t stop. Ned didn’t know how long his gut-wrenching and heart-breaking cries echoed around his small room, how long Peter cried into his shoulder and clutched at his hoodie like he’d slip away if he ever let go. Ned didn’t care. He just sat there and held his best friend who was inches from falling apart completely. 

He had never felt more emotionally drained and deeply hurt than at this moment. Even when Peter’s cries slowly tempered off and turned into small sniffles he didn’t let go. Even when Peter tried to catch his breath and get his breathing under control he didn’t let go. Even when Peter’s weak and scratchy voice rang in his ear he didn’t let go.

“He’s dead,” Peter whispered. He sounded hollow but at the same time, there were too many emotions in his voice. “He’s dead, he- he died and I was there I c-couldn’t- I couldn’t save him. He was bleeding a-and I tried, I tried. I promise I tried- I-” he interrupted himself with a heartbreaking whimper and buried his face into Ned’s shoulder who leaned into him and couldn’t stop his own tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whimpered, his entire body trembling.

It felt like Ned’s heart was being torn out of his body. He couldn’t do anything to stop the pain. He could only hold Peter even closer, keep him together in his arms, protect him from whatever demons and monsters were haunting him.

The funeral was hard. Ned had always been a very empathic person and having so much sorrow and grief within and around him was painful. He was allowed to sit next to Peter at the very front together with May. It felt invasive somehow but he was also glad he was allowed to be there. Even just so to keep Peter together. He hung back when people came up to the first row to give their condolences, suppressing the pain and sorrow that rose up in his chest with each ‘I’m sorry’ and each ‘He will be missed’. 

May looked frazzled and stressed but she somehow managed to act composed. She gave tired smiles, accepted hugs and shook hands. Her smile was shaky and her eyes were puffy but she hung on. Ned wasn’t sure if he should admire her or if he should feel sad for her. He was convinced it took more strength out of her than she had. He knew she wouldn’t be able to keep Peter together as well which is why he was more than willing to take up that role. May and Ben had always been a power couple, there had always been a lot of laughter and jokes in their house. Ned remembered it vividly although it felt like a thousand years away. They went on cute dates and held hands in public and-

Ned swallowed thickly and averted his gaze from May who was talking to a woman a few years older than her. Instead, he snuck a glance at Peter who was dressed in a black suit similar to Ned’s and stared at the floor blankly. Ned’s heart ached even more.

This had become common in the last few days. Peter barely spoke to anyone, even Ned and May. He was always spacing out and just staring ahead with a blank look. He hadn’t eaten much the last few days and he looked downright frail. Some people approached him as well, gave him a careful hug or squeezed his shoulder but they didn’t get much of a response. At some point, May stopped them and ushered them away with a sad smile before they could hog her nephew. Peter didn’t notice. 

When the service started Ned could barely fight the lump in his throat. Some people held short speeches about Ben and what he had meant to them personally and to everyone gathered. One of them was a friend from Ben’s university days, who talked about how Ben and May had met and how he had been there when Ben told him he wanted to propose. His smile was sad as he spoke, shoulders hunch under his black suit jacket and voice trembling when he tried to smile through the pain. When he told how nervous and excited Ben had been before his wedding he needed to take a few moments and compose himself before continuing. 

Ned glanced over at May and saw her head lowered, long hair covering her face but the quiet sniffles, her trembling shoulders and the tissue in her hand gave away she was crying.

They played one of Ben’s favorite songs towards the end and May tried her best to stifle her sobs. Peter sat next to her, holding her hand and crying himself. Ned couldn’t stop his own tears and inched closer to his best friend to offer even the smallest bit of support. It all felt so surreal. Just about a week ago he had talked to Ben and everything had been normal and now… now he was attending his funeral. Now Ben was lying in a wooden box, unmoving and resting for eternity, never to wake again.

Even after they had arrived at the grave it felt surreal. The stone with Ben’s name on it, all those beautiful flowers with beautiful sunflowers at the center, the hole in the ground, the wooden casket. It felt like Ned had fallen into a parallel universe, into some sick, twisted alternate reality where something as cruel as this had actually happened. In his most vivid nightmares, he wouldn’t have dared to come up with a reality as cruel as this.

He hung back with his family as May and Peter went up to the casket to say their final goodbyes. He averted his eyes when May lowered her head. She was hunched over the casket for a while before she straightened up again and wiped at her eyes. Peter stood next to her, looking small as he held her hand and forced himself to retract his other hand from the wood. May pulled him into her embrace and they stayed huddled together as the casket was lowered into the grave. 

Everything else was a blur. Closest friends went up to the grave first and everyone threw some of the provided flower petals over the casket. Ned’s mother nudged him forward gently when it was their turn. His sister looked a little spooked and unsure as she gently let some petals fall into the grave. Their father smiled sadly and lead her away after doing the same. 

Ned let his own handful of petals fall, the lump in his throat growing thicker. He had never been to a funeral so he didn’t know what people usually did when they stood at the grave of someone who had meant so much to them but he just did what felt right and strung together some words in his head. 

Hey Ben, I hope wherever you are, you… you are not in pain and that you can watch over May and Peter. You were one of the coolest people I ever knew and you meant so much to me. I’ll… I’ll miss you… a lot but I won’t forget you. I’m sorry you didn’t have more time. I’ll… I’ll do my best to look after Peter and May. Rest… rest in peace Ben. I’m sorry. Rest in peace.

His mother looked at him gently and he nodded his head, unable to speak. She took his hand and lead him away to where his father was waiting with his sister. 

Ned stole another glance at May and Peter. Some people walked up to them for a word and a hug if they haven’t had the chance previously. Some people didn’t because they didn’t want to overwhelm them. May tried her best to put on a brave facade, accepting hugs and condolences. Peter was hiding behind her, not wanting anyone to talk to him. Ned wanted to go over there but his mom shook her head. “Not yet, honey.” She squeezed his hand and he nodded mutely.

Strangely enough, there was an invite to coffee and cake after the funeral. Ned didn’t understand why this was a thing but he still went. Not everyone from the service was there, just some close friends. May went around and talked to people. Ned finally dared to go up to her and hug her. 

“Oh Ned,” she mumbled quietly and ran a hand through his hair gently as she had done a few days prior. This time her shoulders didn’t shake but her hand did as her fingers traced the back of his head gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her black blazer. She just smiled sadly. There wasn’t much she could say and Ned knew that.

“Do you… do you think you could look after Peter?” she asked gently as she leaned back. “He…” She didn’t say it but Ned understood. Peter was not doing well. May managed another sad smile. “He should be outside…”

Ned nodded and May stroked his cheek. “Thank you, Ned.”

After this May talked to Ned’s mom while he ducked outside. The fresh air helped to clear his head a little. It should have brought relief but it didn’t. He felt tired and drained from all the emotions taking their toll on him. He wandered around the premises, looking for Peter. To took a while to find him sitting on a bench overlooking the valley behind the small restaurant. He must have heard Ned coming because the gravel moved under his shoes as he came closer but he didn’t look away from where his eyes were focused on the view in front of him.

Ned came to a stop next to him, unsure of what to say. He managed a soft ‘hey’ and only then did Peter look up at him. He looked worse than this morning which seemed almost impossible. His skin was pale and his eyes were bloodshot. His nose was red and his hair was starting to get rid of its styling.

“Hey Ned,” Peter croaked, voice weak and wobbly and that was all it took for Ned to sit down and pull his friend into his embrace. Peter’s shoulders trembled as he tried to smother his hiccups and tears into Ned’s suit jacket. Ned just held on as tightly as he could, fighting his own tears but some still escaped his eyes. 

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like this, clutching at each other like they were the only thing keeping them grounded. Ned was tired and drained. He couldn’t imagine what Peter was feeling.

When they leaned back Peter wiped at his cheeks and Ned offered him one of the few still unused tissued he had stuffed into his pockets this morning. Most of them had been used by himself throughout the day, one or two by his sister. Peter took it without looking and wiped his eyes before blowing his nose. He sniffed and took a deep, shaky breath afterward, staring out over the valley again.

Ned followed his example and they sat there in silence. 

Contrary to popular belief it was a nice day. Ned had always thought funerals would make a day gloomy and rainy but the sky was in a clear blue with barely any clouds obscuring the sun. The grass was luscious and green and the ground wasn’t muddy. Their black shoes were clean, there had been no rain and no black umbrellas at the cemetery. The faint breeze wasn’t cold or biting and the sun was warm. The leaves of the trees behind them rustled as the air moved and it smelled clean and fresh like they sat in a meadow of flowers. It was an oxymoron, it shouldn’t be like this. The day shouldn’t be allowed to be happy when they were mourning.

The world should pause for a day and cry for Ben Parker who had lost his life too early, who had been ripped away cruelly and unfairly so. The sun shouldn’t be shining, the sky shouldn’t be clear and the air shouldn’t be warm. 

But, Ned thought, Ben had always been a ray of sunshine in people’s lives. Maybe… maybe this was him trying to be what he had always wanted to be even when he couldn’t be there physically anymore. The thought was a nice one but Ned didn’t know if he was ready to allow himself such nice thoughts just yet. If it was indeed Ben he would have to thank him later when he could appreciate the gesture. Now it felt like it would take forever to find any sort of happiness in anything ever again.

“May and I brought sunflowers this morning,” Peter said softly after a long while of silence, still sounding choked up. He pressed his lips together and glanced down at his shoes before adding, “Ben… he really liked them.”

Ned hummed quietly. “Yeah… I know, I saw them.”

Sunflowers had always been Ben’s favorite. May had bought some every now and then to surprise him and they had always baked sunflower-themes pastries for his birthday. One year Ned had helped and he could still remember them putting yellow icing on their cheeks like warpaint and painting bees on some of the cupcakes. 

Peter sniffed. “I found a shirt with sunflowers on them that I wanted to get for his birthday.”

Ned lowered his gaze and swallowed thickly. “I… I’m sorry, Pete…”

Peter didn’t say anything, his eyes staring ahead in an unfocused manner like he wasn’t just seeing the valley in front of them. 

If someone had told Ned he and Peter would both be wearing black suits and uncomfortable shoes to a funeral a week ago he wouldn’t have believed them. Much less that it would be Ben’s funeral. Even now, after seeing the casket and seeing May and Peter without Ben he still couldn’t believe it. It felt like a dream - no, a nightmare, but a twisted one. Everything was calm and sunny and here they were, mourning the death of a loved one.

Ned hadn’t known Peter when his parents had died. They had met when they were eleven in middle school. The memories usually brought a smile to his face because their little friendship crush still warmed his heart. Peter and he had hit it off immediately. 

Peter hadn’t cared that Ned’s parents were from the Philippines and cooked traditional dishes sometimes. He hadn’t cared that Ned wasn’t very interested in the monkey bars or that when the played on the seesaw Ned usually didn’t get very high while Peter almost flew out of his seat at the very top. Instead, he had cared about Ned’s interest in computers and had tried to get actively involved in his coding hobby. 

In turn, Ned hadn’t cared about Peter’s glasses that seemed too big for his face. He hadn’t cared about Peter’s dyslexia making him mix up his words and making him sometimes use the wrong ones or pronounce things differently. Instead, he had cared about Peter’s fascination with stars and his ballet classes. To this day he got excited when Peter showed him new moves and talked about choreography or when he explained the theory of wormholes and how time was not linear. 

They made an odd pair, sure, but Ned wouldn’t have it any other way.

That said, Peter’s parents had died years before they had met. Peter had been young and while he sometimes mentioned them or glimpses he could recall he barely remembered them. Ben and May had taken the roles of his guardians and were like parents to him. He never called them mom and dad and they never expected him to but May did everything a mom would do and Ben did everything a dad would do.

No, had done .

Past tense. 

The reality of it was still not settling in but Ned realized Peter had lost another father figure. He couldn’t imagine losing his own dad but losing a dad twice?

They were only fourteen. They were kids. Most kids their age hadn’t lost many people in their lives, much less a parent, much less both and then another parental figure on top of that. Ned’s heart ached, realizing now there was only May left. It was just May and Peter now.

“Hey Pete?” he said softly.

Peter just hummed faintly, thoughts clearly somewhere else but at least he had heard him. 

“You know I love you, right?”

That seemed to shake Peter out of his thoughts. He blinked several times, gaze clearing as he looked at his friend. They stared at one another for a moment, Peter’s eyes switching between Ned’s like he was searching for something. For a second Ned feared Peter didn’t know but then there was the smallest hint of a smile on Peter’s face, genuine and not forced but still sad. The first one in a while.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know.” A small breeze ruffled his hair just slightly. “Love you too, buddy.”

Ned found himself smiling for the first time in days. He scooted closer and bumped their shoulders together. Peter wasn’t alone, Ned would make sure of that for the rest of his life.

Maybe they could get through this together. Maybe it would get better someday in the future. 

When May had gotten the call she… she didn’t know what happened. Time seemed to freeze around her, the universe halted its never-ending flow of time for just long enough to let the shock resonate in the deepest depths of her soul. She was sure someone had sucked all the air out of the room, his lungs had ceased to work as she struggled to regain her footing. The silence was deafening.

“Ma’am?” the voice from the other end of the line asked, not impatient or unkind but with firmness in her voice. Surely this wasn’t the first time she had called the spouse of someone. Surely this wasn’t the first time she had to deliver such news to someone. The news that devastated lives.

May fought to swallow and get air into her lungs. She felt as if she was burning up from the inside out, molten lava crawling up her throat and choking her. “Y… yes?”

“We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible. Your nephew-”

The word sparked a primal instinct in her she hadn’t been aware of before. “Peter!” she gasped. The lava ceased to exist for just a moment. Long enough to allow her head to clear just slightly and get cohesive words out of her mouth that felt like it no longer belonged to herself. “Is he alright? Is he okay? Is-” 

Is he alive? 

May cut herself off, the words dying in the back of her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. The lava was back and burning more so than before.

“Your nephew is alright,” the woman said, not deterred by May’s sudden outburst. If she weren’t on such an emotional rollercoaster May might have recognized the tone of voice the woman used. Soothing and calming but firm and straight to the point. It was to keep people from panicking. It was their job to keep people from panicking and from acting recklessly, it was to make people feel like everything was under control while in reality the train that was life had just switched tracks at the very last second and now no one knew where they were headed. They were hurtling towards a dark tunnel that lead underground. No one knew how deep the tunnel was or whether they would ever be an exit. All the could do it hold on with all their might but May’s hands were slipping.

“Ma’am, can you come?”

May realized she had lost her voice again. Out of habit, she nodded and then managed to confirm. “Yes, I… yeah, of course.” The train hurtled on. May hadn’t lost her grip just yet but she didn’t know where the train was going. It was dark and she was alone and she needed to have something to keep her from spiraling.

“Alright, your nephew is in the waiting area of the ER. Please stay calm and call a taxi if you are in no condition to drive yourself.”

May, again, just nodded and stuttered out another confirmation. The next thing she knew was her grabbing her essential items, throwing everything into her handbag and racing out of the apartment. Anything to do was a distraction from her thoughts. She got into the car and drove towards the hospital. Maybe she should have called a taxi or an uber or something because her hands shook on the steering wheel and while her eyes were focused on the road she barely registered what was going on. She wouldn’t be able to recall whether the light had been green.

Ma’am, your husband Benjamin Parker was involved in a shooting at a grocery store. An ambulance was called but he died from a gunshot wound before they arrived. He was brought to the hospital together with your nephew Peter Benjamin Parker.

The words rang in her head like a haunting whisper from a nightmare so horrifying she would have banned it from her memory for eternity had it ever crossed her mind. 

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

Ben and Peter had left only an hour ago to… to get some groceries for dinner and the next few days. Ben… he… he had joked about also getting the cheap, sugary ice cream May always said was unhealthy since she wouldn’t be there to supervise. Peter had grinned and high-fived his uncle in victory while May had rolled her eyes from where she was reading a book on the couch. “If you get a sugar high tonight you’re going to sleep on the couch.”

“Aw man, my own wife is throwing me out of our room,” Ben had whined, sliding up next to May and leaning over the backrest of the couch. “We’ll be right back,” he had said. He had kissed her cheek, May had smiled up at him. “Alright boys, have fun.”

She had watched them leave, rolling her eyes when Ben had sent her a flying kiss before the door had closed behind him. 

May was sure she had parked the car over the span of two parking spaces at least but she didn’t care. She struggled with her hair and the shoulder strap of her handbag that slipped down several times. It pulled on her hair uncomfortable. Finding the entrance to the ER took her longer than she’s like to admit but nothing registered in her brain. 

When she finally, finally found it she was overwhelmed by the people loitering in the hallways. There were a few beds with patients on them, nurses running around and shouts for people and equipment was carried through the corridors. May made her way past the chaos into the waiting area. Although she had gotten reassurance from the woman who had called her she couldn’t help but fear for the worst. 

Her heart was up in her throat as her eyes traveled across the room. Faces appeared in her vision but May didn’t recognize them. People sat huddled together, sprawled across two seats if there was enough space. A young kid was playing games on a phone distractedly, someone hobbled over to a chair with the help of a crutch. May’s pulse was going a mile per minute when she finally spotted a familiar head of curls tucked away in a corner. 

“Peter!”

Some people turned to look at her but most didn’t bother, too focused on their own issues. May raced towards the small figure. Her heart all but stopped when she was close enough and Peter raised his head. May made a choked sound and slid to her knees in front of him, ignoring the ache and the way her bag cluttered to the floor. 

“Oh my god,” she managed to get out, eyes wide and her breath escaping her lungs. With shaky hands, she cradled Peter’s face. His face that was caked in blood on one side. It was in the same spot where her hand rested and trailed down to his jawline and chin where it divided into a few streaks. It… it looked like someone had their bloody hand on his face which then fell away. May felt sick, stomach twisting like the tea from an hour ago had turned into liquid acid and was eating her from the inside out.

Her gaze trailed over Peter, searching for injuries. Her heart stopped every time she found a new bloodstain. They were everywhere. Peter’s sleeves, his shirt, on his pants, his hands and nails were red. It was a gruesome sight even when it had dried by now, straight out of a horror movie. 

May couldn’t believe they had just left a boy drenched in blood waiting alone in the ER. He was a child and there was blood everywhere. May was still looking for injuries because all this blood had to come from somewhere when a faint voice reached her ears. 

“It’s… it’s Ben’s.”

May froze and looked up at Peter with haunted eyes. “Ben’s?” she asked, voice rough.

Peter… his eyes were pained, there was an undeniable amount of pain in them as they turned watery and tears escaped. “I… I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m sorry, I tried, I… I tried, I did, I- he… t-there was so much blood, I tried, I’m sorry-” a sob interrupted him and he curled up, hands coming up to wipe at his eyes which smeared the blood around. 

May felt like she couldn’t breathe. All this blood on Peter, all of it… it was her husband’s blood on their nephew. He was drenched in his uncle’s blood. His hands were bloody, the smear on his cheek.

May surged upwards and gathered Peter in her arms, his face smothered against her shoulder as he cried and clutched at her shirt. There was a deafening silence in May’s head. The thoughts were running so quickly she couldn’t grasp even a single one. She tried to soothe Peter, to make him calm down because it sounded like he couldn’t breathe. May herself was struggling to pull air into her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and begged the universe to let this be the most horrific nightmare she has ever experienced. She would wake up with Ben snuggled up next to her and Peter just down the hall in his bed. No blood, no tears, no phone calls. 

Nothing.

Everything would be fine.

“Mrs. Parker?” 

May startled back and looked up at the nurse who was standing in front of them. She looked tired but managed a small smile. “Are you Mr. Parker’s wife?”

Although air was still in short supply and although May’s brain was still going to fast to catch a thought she managed to nod her head. Yes, Ben was her husband. Her husband… 

“Alright. There are a few steps we need to take now. Would you like to sit down?” The nurse gestured to one of the empty seats next to Peter. May struggled to her feet and picked up her bag before sitting down like she was in a trance. Her heart was still going a mile a minute, one hand on Peter’s back where she could feel his body still shaking with the attempt to stifle his sobs. 

The nurse nodded and sat down as well. “First of all, my condolence. Mr. Parker died approximately 53 minutes ago about the time where the ambulance arrived. He was hit by a bullet in the left side of his chest. The ETMs tried to reanimate him on the drive but were unsuccessful.”

May gasped, a painful stab going through her chest. She put a hand over her heart in an attempt to soothe the pain, the other tightened on Peter’s back who barely managed to breathe around his sobs.

The nurse sent May a mournful look but continued. “I’m sorry for your loss, but your husband signed up to be an organ donor. It is vital that organs are removed as quickly as possible post mortem. The doctors will begin with this shortly unless you’d like to withdraw your husband as a donor.”

Individually May understood the words but strung together they didn’t make any sense. Post mortem, husband, organ donor.

Ben had always said he’d want his organs to be donated when he died. “I’d have no use for them anymore,” he’d always say with a shrug. “Why should they get buried if someone somewhere is waiting for a liver to continue living? A dead person doesn’t need a liver.” May had agreed, they were both organ donors as was Peter because he too shared the same views. 

But… May had never thought… she hadn’t thought there would actually be a point in time where this would become a reality. She had always thought they would grow old and maybe die in their sleep in the far, far future. Distant, nothing anyone had to worry about. She hadn’t thought she’d ever sit in the waiting room of the ER with her crying nephew on one side of her and a nurse asking about her husband’s organs on the other side of her. 

Post mortem.

My condolence.

Hit by a bullet. 

Tried to reanimate but were unsuccessful. 

Died approximately 53 minutes ago.

Ben… Ben was dead.

“We’ll be right back.”

“Have fun boys.”

Ben, her husband, the love of her life… was dead . Killed by another person who had shot him.

May took a shaky breath, eyes burning. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be… this couldn’t be the reality she was living in. This was wrong and- and… it was wrong ! It was wrong and-

“Ma’am,” the nurse said gently.

“Yes,” May croaked, thoughts racing and unable to comprehend. “Yes, he… wants his organs to be… to be donated,” she managed to stutter. “He always said… he signed up because…” her breath hitched and she stopped talking. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real. Ben was fine. He was fine. This woman was just asking to… just asking. She was just asking.

“Of course,” the nurse said and nodded her head. “Before the doctors can start we need you to formally identify the body.”

The body.

The body. 

Her husband’s body. 

What… what body?

Ben’s?

Ben’s body?

“N-now?” May asked weakly. She didn’t know if she could. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to see… to see… She couldn’t. This wasn’t true. When she saw she would know this wasn’t true.

The nurse nodded. 

May wanted to wake up already. 

“It’s him, I k-know… I s-saw,” Peter hiccuped. May squeezed his shoulder. The nurse inclined her head as she stood up.

“I… I’ll be right back, Pete, yeah?” May managed to get out. She didn’t know if she was talking to herself or not. Peter just cried, curled up on the uncomfortable, blue plastic chair with bloodshot eyes and blood clinging to his skin and clothes. May’s heart ached and her knees shook as she stood up. She kissed the top of Peter’s head and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’ll be right back,” she repeated. Maybe it was to reassure herself, she wasn’t sure. 

She followed the nurse down a hallway and into a room. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. A pained noise tore out of May’s throat and she covered her mouth in shock as her eyes fell onto the figure lying on the bed. Still and unmoving. 

It was Ben.

It was Ben, her husband, the love of her life, the man she had married, the man who had proposed to her over dinner at an Italian restaurant so many years ago. The man who had come to her one night, frazzled and anxious, saying his brother and his sister in law had died and their nephew had no one else. The man she loved but had never wanted to raise their own children, the man who had taken in their nephew with her without an inch of doubt or hesitation. The man she had been raising their kid with for over eight years now.

It was him. On that bed. Still and motionless, blood drenching his shirt. The one he had worn today, the one he had worn when he had left for the grocery store with Peter. The one she had last seen him in. The one… the one he had last kissed her in, had last spoken to her in. The one he had last been alive in. 

May couldn’t stop the dam from overflowing any longer as reality settled in. She approached the bed carefully like any moment Ben would sit up with a shout of victory and say ‘haha, it’s a prank!’ and poke May’s nose like he did when he was playing pranks. None of that happened. Ben remained still on the bed, unmoving and unchanging, eyes closed.

Her hand shook as May reached out and stroked along Ben’s cheek. His skin was pale. He didn’t move. He was cold.

May had to steady herself on the bed or her legs would give out. Tears rolled down her cheeks in endless streams. She couldn’t breathe properly. Someone was cutting off her airflow and everything hurt. 

It was Ben. On that bed, it was Ben. 

“Ben,” May whimpered. “Ben, honey?” She stroked along his cheek and squeezed his shoulder in a hopeless attempt to wake him up. There was no reaction.

May gasped for air. She bent over and lowered her head onto Ben’s shoulder like she did when they hugged or slow danced in the kitchen or when they were watching a movie and cuddling on the couch.

“Ma’am,” the nurse from before spoke up, voice soft but firm. Always the same tone. She was used to this. “Is he your husband, Benjamin Parker?”

May didn’t speak for a while. She couldn’t. She needed to catch her breath, pull air into her lungs forcefully before she could even straighten up again. Ben’s face was relaxed like he was just sleeping. Like he wasn’t in pain. May closed her eyes and when she opened them again she didn’t look. “Yes,” she said through her tears. “He’s my husband, he’s… yes.”

The nurse nodded solemnly. “Alright. You can pick up your husband’s items at the front desk of the waiting room. I will inform the doctors. We can keep the body at the hospital morgue while you and his family decide on funeral arrangements.”

“He…” May swallowed heavily. Her voice trembled. “I’m all the family he has left. Me a-and Peter.”

The nurse pressed her lips together and nodded. “I see. You will receive some information at the front desk about the next steps as well. Please remember it is wise to act quickly but I advise you to take the time needed. Until then your husband will be in good hands.”

May tried to stifle a sob but nodded. She ran her hand through Ben’s hair gently before she was lead out of the room and to the front desk. There was another woman behind the counter who looked stressed but sent May an acknowledging look. This was not the first time she came in contact with the loved ones of a deceased. It too often for her to be phased. She explained where May should call within the next days, possibly tomorrow if she could. She handed over a ziplock bag with Ben’s wallet, his keys and his phone. May accepted it silently and stored it in her handbag with shaky hands. 

People were waiting behind her when she turned to leave. The waiting room was as bustling full as it had been when she had arrived. She didn’t know how long ago that had been. A woman hugged a young man and patted his cheek, a boy with a swollen ankle was sitting next to an elderly man, two young women were huddled together, one of them hunched over a bucket. May averted her eyes and traced her steps back to Peter. The sight of him made her want to tear up again but she fought the urge. Instead, she stepped up to her nephew and stroked his cheek that wasn’t… that wasn’t marred with her husband’s blood. 

“Pete,” she called softly. Peter slowly raised his head, bloodshot eyes meeting hers. May wanted to reassure him, say something, anything, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even manage the faintest hint of a smile. Instead, she pulled Peter against her, running her fingers through his hair and down his nape to feel warm skin. May allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and take a deep breath. Just one moment to thank the universe for the pulse she could feel beneath her fingertips. 

“Let’s go home,” she said softly, the words sounding like they were coming from someone else. Like some other consciousness was taking over because all May wanted to do was huddle in a dark corner and scream and wail. Become one with the shadows and cease to exist. But she couldn’t. There… there was Peter who relied on her, Peter who was a child who had… who had been traumatized and May needed… she needed to keep moving. For now, just keep moving. 

Don’t think.

Peter leaned back to look up at her again and May’s heart ached. His eyes were searching for something in her gaze. May wasn’t sure he found what he was looking for. “We’re leaving?” he asked like a lost child. He sounded small, smaller than May could remember him ever sounding. Even when she had picked him up from the police station all those years ago with… with Ben. She couldn’t compare his voice right now to anything she had ever heard before. 

May nodded her head slowly. “Yeah there…” She swallowed around the lump in her throat and took a shaky breath. “There… there is nothing left to do right now.” She didn’t want to think about anything else, about the “next steps”. The word funeral floated through her brain before she could shut it out. 

Something broke inside of Peter when she said this, May could see it in his eyes and it felt like someone was slowly ripping her heart out of her chest. It was unbearable but she pushed through. She bent down and kissed his head before taking his hand. The dried blood made his skin rough. May didn’t want to think about it, wouldn’t allow herself to think about it. She guided them both out of the ER, away from the blaring lights, away from rushing doctors and nurses and waiting people. 

Away from Ben. 

She managed to get Peter into the shower once they were home, set out fresh clothes for him, locked the front door, turned on the TV because the silence was killing her, pulled out the ziplock bag and put it on the counter. 

Then, late at night with the TV running quietly in the back and the sound of water in the pipes, May broke down. 

She sunk to the floor, buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She couldn’t remember ever crying like this, she couldn’t remember ever feeling such sorrow. She couldn’t remember ever experiencing such an inner turmoil of hurt and pain and terror over what had happened. There was a wave of emotions crashing down onto her, water dragging her under and filling her lungs. It was like primal instincts were taking over but her body just could not handle it.

There were images of Ben flashing in front of her inner eye. His smile, his laugh, the twinkle in his eyes when he was planning something. Flour making his hair grey, specks of dough on his cheeks, burn marks on his forearm because of course he burned himself on hot trays. His giddy expression when he finally managed to make the perfect doughnut, his victorious shout when he won a round of UNO. The proud look on his face when Peter explained how time worked in space. The tears in his eyes when they were watching Peter dancing on stage in the cutest outfits as a young boy. The love in his eyes when he looked at Peter or May. 

Ben wrapping his arms around her after a long day, kissing her cheek and nuzzling his nose into her shoulder. The way he’d say “you smell good” or whisper “I love you” when he cuddled up to May in bed. His voice next to May’s ear, telling her they could get through everything together the first night they brought Peter home with them so many years ago. The promise that they’d grow old and wrinkly together and feed the birds in the park when they were in their seventies. 

May couldn’t remember how long she was on the floor, how long she was crying her eyes out and sobbing as her heart screamed but at some point, there was another body next to hers, smaller and warm. 

“May, May,” her name was whispered into her ear almost fearfully and she pulled Peter into her arms. He was warm from the shower, his skin free of red and his hair dripping wet. She cried into his shoulder while he held her. May didn’t know if he was crying as well or if he had lost all of his tears by now. She didn’t know, she couldn’t stop.

Time blurred together, pieces were missing. May didn’t know how long she had been on the floor, how long she had been crying. The only thing she knew was there was Peter in her arms. Her nephew. Sweet, sweet Peter, her one and only. 

“Pete, Peter,” she mumbled, grasping at his shoulder and his arms as she leaned back. She searched his face while he looked at her, eyes wide with worry and clouded with sorrow. May sniffled and hiccuped, cupping his soft cheeks and stroking over his cheekbones with her thumbs. He wasn’t even wearing his glasses. Her breath stuttered in her lungs and her lips trembled as she managed a heartbreaking smile. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you, Peter. I’m sorry, you’re okay.”

Peter’s eyes filled up with tears. “M-May,” he croaked, voice shaky. “May, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“Shh,” she whispered shakily and pulled him back in, kissing his forehead and then stroking his nape. “It’s okay, it’s-” she had to swallow a sob that was fighting its way to the surface. “It’s okay, it’s alright, you’re okay. I got you.” She tightened her arms around him because she needed to know he was there. She needed to know he was there and breathing and okay. “You’re okay, I love you, it’s… it’s okay.”

May didn’t know when these small last words would be true but she hoped if she said them often enough then maybe one day… maybe one day they would become true.

When MJ got the news she felt numb. For a fleeting moment, the only thought in her head was “Why hadn’t they said something before?” but she quickly shooed those away. During class, she risked a look back at Ned who hadn’t been at school for the last two days. He had only told her this morning, quietly and in a small voice. The seat next to him was still empty for the third day in a row. Ned himself looked gloomy, the usual goofy smile and excited nature nowhere to be found. He didn’t seem to listen to anything the teacher was saying, staring down at the table listlessly. 

Apparently, yesterday had been the funeral. Nothing big with just close friends attending. Ned had been there with his family, hence why he had been missing. MJ herself had never been to a funeral and apparently neither had Ned before yesterday. 

She had asked, carefully. “How is Peter… and May?”

Ned had shrugged his shoulders. “I… I don’t know. May’s trying to keep it together I think. She looked about to break down a few times but she pulled through. Peter…” he had sighed quietly. “He… isn’t doing good. He… was there when…” Ned hadn’t said it but MJ had understood. Peter had been there when his uncle had died. “He’s supposed to come back to school but he’s really quiet and doesn’t eat much.”

MJ nibbled on her lip worriedly while the teacher at the front droned on and played with the thought of texting Peter but… what was she supposed to say? 

I’m sorry?

My condolences?

Hope you’re doing okay?

…

I miss you?

She shook her head. Sure, it was true but she wasn't about to make this about her and her feelings. Telling Peter she missed him would probably only make him feel worse. 

MJ didn’t know what the appropriate or logical thing to say was and this did not sit well with her. She said whatever she damn well pleased whenever she wanted but… this was different. A family member had died, a loved one. MJ had no experience with this but Peter, for him it wasn’t the first time it happened. Even with all the reading that she did and with all the people-watching MJ wasn’t sure how to proceed. 

Would it be best to act normal and not address it? Would it be better to express her condolence? Did Peter want to be left alone or did he need to be kept busy? What did he prefer? What did he want to hear?

MJ didn’t know. She didn’t know how she would feel. She could imagine she wouldn’t want to be alienated, wouldn’t want people to tiptoe around her like she could break any minute but she also knew it was a purely logical conclusion with no emotions messing things up. MJ was brash and sometimes too direct. Her friends knew how she meant things but Peter was surely not in the right mindset to deal with her blunt comments. 

Maybe it would be better to stay away for a while?

MJ frowned and shook her head, quickly ruling this out. She might still sometimes feel strange when she acknowledged this but Peter was her friend and friends supported each other no matter what. Especially so in difficult times. They didn’t abandon one another just because someone didn’t know how to deal with a new situation. MJ was willing to learn and listen.

So, when Peter came back the next day she allowed herself just a few moments to be shocked and stare. Peter looked… drained. His eyes were tired and red, his shoulders hung low and his skin was pale. He stared into his locker blankly before blinking a few times and then getting his books robotically. He looked like he was in a trance, like he wasn’t really awake and his expression didn’t change even when he saw MJ approaching. If anything it looked like he was pulling up a shaky wall, eyes settling on the floor.

“Hey MJ,” he said, voice faint and far away. 

“Hey…” MJ studied him, unsure of what to say. Her mind went through several possible options but she didn’t feel like any of them were good. In the end, she didn’t say anything. She just opened her arms a bit and when Peter didn’t step away or avoid her she took a step forward and hugged him. She was never one to hug people out of the blue but it felt like it was something Peter might like. It took a moment but then one of Peter’s arms came up to settle around his waist and squeezed faintly. 

When she leaned back they eyes met and Peter managed a sad smile before looking away. MJ still wasn’t sure if this had been the right way to handle things but she felt like this had said more than she could have expressed with words. 

For a while MJ thought at some point in time Peter would reach his breaking point. He seemed to be the kind of person who felt things strongly. He was incredibly empathetic, he could pick up on people’s emotions and he was too kind for the world. Surely he’d have a breakdown at some point, right? 

Until now his behavior hadn’t really improved but it also hadn’t worsened. MJ had read something about dissociation once and it kind of seemed to fit what Peter was doing or experiencing. She read up on it a bit more and obviously she wasn’t a therapist or a professional but it seemed like Peter was dissociating quite frequently or all the time. He had his moments of awareness, sure. Sometimes during lunch he smiled at a joke or got involved in a conversation but if there wasn’t an active stimulus for his brain he seemed to withdraw from reality and float around somewhere else. 

The eating issue also hadn’t really improved. He ate, sure. Or it looked like he was eating but he wasn't really. At least not enough. He’d nibble on his sandwich or some candy, he’d sip his soda but… he wasn’t eating . Ned and the others were aware of it as well. Sometimes when Peter was especially spacy they would exchange worried glances. MJ was convinced Peter would benefit from a therapist. Heck, the poor dude had enough on his plate as it was but now this too?

Sadly a therapist wasn’t an option and while all of his friends were eager to help… they weren’t licensed therapists equipped to deal with trauma. This MJ was sure of. Peter was traumatized. Not just like in the conversational sense. No, he was traumatized. Being involved in a mugging was bad enough, having a gun pointed at you as a child and then watching as your father figure was shot and bled out in front of you while you were helpless to do anything was sure to mess up one’s head. 

Ned had shared this with MJ one day or she wouldn’t even have known the entire story. He had overheard his mom and May talking, the latter trying not to cry as she explained how she had found Peter in the ER in a shaky voice. Covered in dried blood, a handprint on his cheek. There had been blood everywhere, especially on his hands and sleeves so he had probably… he had probably tried to stop the blood flow from the wound while Ben had rasped his last words and had raised his hand to Peter’s cheek. 

MJ took a deep, shaky breath and rubbed her forehead. 

She shouldn’t think about this, it surely wasn’t healthy and it wouldn’t help anyone. She was glad Ned had shared it with her though because Ned had always dealt poorly with secrets and this had just weighed too heavily on him. They were kids, they weren’t supposed to deal with such things. Yet Peter had been subjected to it and was now forced to deal with the repercussions.

Even over a week later MJ was still not sure what to do. Peter didn’t show any signs of improving and she wasn’t sure if it was plausible to expect this of him. The only thing she knew was that she wanted Peter to… to feel like he wasn’t alone. Wanting him to “go back to normal” was selfish. It was based on the surrounding people’s comfort and not actually Peter’s own wellbeing. MJ wanted Peter to feel comfortable and find back into his own self, no matter how it had altered after this experience. Even if he wouldn’t be the “old Peter” anymore, she wanted him to settle and find comfort. 

This breaking point she had expected to arrive way earlier only came after about two weeks when the group of friends was sitting outside for their lunch period. Abe and Charles were trying to explain why Assassin’s Creed was a logical substitute for history lessons while Sally insisted it wasn’t because they took advantage of gray areas and interpreted them in a specific way. She had written a paper about this once so she argued she had checked all sources and had then come to a conclusion. Charles and Abe refused to hear Connor Kenway was not a good history teacher.

Ned jumped in every now and then while Cindy asked occasional questions. Betty tried to keep up but she hadn’t even known what Assassin’s Creed was and was a little disturbed by the purpose of the games. 

“So you just run around and stab people?”

“NO!”

Then everyone had jumped into a lengthy explanation - Charles, Abe, Sally and Ned - why it was not just “running around and stabbing people “ but “a complex network of information gathering and political espionage that might lead to the occasional removal of a problematic individual threatening the way of the world”. 

Betty admitted to not quite getting the difference. 

MJ was listening with one ear while sketching the football coach who was yelling at his team from the sidelines across the field from them. His expressions were beyond entertaining even from so far away. She had completed three different sketches already and was now starting on her fourth. 

The only person of their ground not quite doing anything was Peter. He had his chin propped up in his hand, eyes staring out across the field somewhat unfocused. A few unruly curls were falling into his face and anyone just looking quickly might think he was daydreaming or watching the football practice. MJ knew better though, she kept an eye on Peter because this is what he looked like when he was… what she assumed to be dissociating. It was almost scary for how long he could do this. Just stare ahead blankly and only come back into his own body when something or someone from the outside world actively made contact with him through touch or sound. 

Sometimes he didn’t react when teachers called on him. They’d flounder for a moment, consider their options and most would just move on without saying anything. A few times Peter had come out of his staring minutes later and had asked Ned what was going on quietly, asked if someone had said anything. 

MJ debated nudging Peter with her shoe or poking him gently just to shake him out of it. She could show him her sketches and ask for his opinion or involve him in a discussion about the coach's intelligible yells. Knowing Peter he’d probably try his best to keep up even when his mind would be floating up in the clouds somewhere. He was kind like that, trying his best even when he was falling apart on the inside.

“But dude, he was a native American!” Abe argued. “And the… the clan thing did actually exist.”

“Yeah and they had professionals help to keep everything authentic,” Charles added. 

“It still does not substitute an objective recount of what happened,” Sally said. 

“Well, I’d argue history is always objective. I’m sure Britain would like to have a word about how we teach things here,” Abe muttered. 

Sally huffed. “Sure, but a game developed by game developers is not an alternative, merely an addition to spark curiosity and do your own research which you should be doing anyway.”

MJ huffed almost fondly and shook her head, tuning out the conversation again. Instead, she focused back onto Peter who still had this faraway look in his eyes. MJ decided to intervene and poked his shin with the back of her pencil a few times. He was seated in the row above hers together with Ned, Betty and Charles. The other three were one higher up. MJ needed to increase the pressure of her pokes before Peter came back down to earth.

He blinked a few times, finally looking more aware, and looked down at MJ blankly as he figured out she was the source of the poking. MJ kind of wanted to poke him again just to see a proper reaction but kept herself from doing so. Instead, she grinned and raised her sketchbook. “Wanna rate the accuracy of Coach Powell’s face with me?”

It took Peter a moment to process the words, seemingly not even noticing the conversation going on next to him, but then he managed a small smile and nodded. This alone made something content bloom in MJ’s chest. She couldn’t suppress her own smile and patted the spot next to her on the otherwise unoccupied bench. Maybe she could keep Peter’s mind busy for the rest of lunch before they would go back to class. She couldn’t imagine his brain was doing well with so much spacing out going on. 

She watched Peter stand up to get to the lower bench and… it all happened within seconds, really. Even when it felt like time slowed down MJ’s brain wasn’t able to process it any faster. 

Peter made a face as he stood up, eyes widening and trying to focus on a spot on the floor. It looked exactly like what you did when you stood up too quickly and your body had to recalibrate the blood flow for a second or two, the moment where the world was a little fuzzy. That’s all it should have been but Peter’s body didn’t seem successful with recalibrating because instead of finding his footing his eyes rolled up and he fell forward like a limp puppet. 

MJ wouldn’t and couldn’t deny that panic yelp that left her as she jumped up and somehow managed to catch Peter before he could smash his skull open on concrete and hard plastic benches. He was completely limp, no muscles in his body working so MJ was struggling to keep both of them from falling down the remaining rows below hers. 

Thankfully Ned had also sprung into action as did everyone else with shocked gasps and panicked sounds. Together they managed to prevent Peter from falling forward and pulled him back. 

“Lay him down, lay him down!” Betty instructed hastily, waving her hands towards the floor. 

Usually, MJ would not advocate for laying someone on the floor - those were nasty - but these were unforeseen circumstances. They got Peter down on the ground, keeping his lolling head from hitting the floor. Once he was safely lying flat, MJ allowed herself just one moment to scream in her head, be shocked and breathless and then sprung back into action. 

“Peter?” Ned called anxiously, hovering over his friend with wide eyes and shaky hands. 

“Is he breathing?” Cindy asked fearfully and MJ wanted to slap herself. She grabbed Peter’s limp wrist and pressed two fingers onto his pulse point. Once she found it she kept it there and hovered her other hand in front of his nose and mouth. Warm air his the back of her hands and there was a steady pulse thumping under her fingertips. 

“Yeah,” she managed to get out, heart stuttering in her chest fearfully. She swallowed once to get the lump occupying her throat out of the way. “Yeah.”

“Oh god, do we call an ambulance?” Abe asked meekly.

No one knew if that was the logical thing to do. They could shout for Coach Powell but they didn’t know if he’d be of any help. No one had seemed to notice the panicked huddle of students.

The universe seemed to decide for them because a second later Peter’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Peter!” three people shouted at once, MJ wasn’t sure who. Maybe she had been one of them. 

Peter’s eyes needed a moment to focus. 

“Are you okay?” Sally asked, leaning over the others with a worried look. She was pale from shock.

Peter managed an unidentifiable grunt, scrunching up his face. It took him a few beats before he mumbled a somewhat dazed “fine”. One hand came up to rub at his eyes.

“Okay,” MJ said, only now letting go of Peter’s wrist and laying it down on his stomach carefully, afraid it would break if she wasn’t gentle enough. Peter didn’t seem to notice. “Nurse.”

This Peter did notice. He stopped rubbing his eyes and turned towards her with an almost adorably confused look if it weren’t for the situation they were in. “Huh?”

“Good idea,” Charles said with a nod, he too sounded out of sorts. The others agreed. 

Peter didn’t seem to like it. “M’ fine,” he mumbled in protest but was still laying on the floor. 

Ned shook his head and crouched down. “Nope, you’re going to the nurse.”

Peter whined but no one let him protest. They slowly got him up, MJ and Ned steadying him when he almost fell down again when they got him to his feet. Everyone reached out to grab him on instinct.

“Okay, yeah, no, this isn’t gonna do,” MJ said. “Anyone can carry swooning Mary to the nurse?” She would do it. She was taller than Peter and she would probably manage to carry him but she wasn’t… she wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to be responsible for his well-being as cowardly as it sounded.

Peter grunted but didn’t have much room to object since he was currently being held up by roughly four people while everyone else hovered around with anxious hands and concerned expressions.

In the end, they got him onto Ned’s back and made their way into the building, Coach Powell’s yells fading out in the distance as they left the football field and bleachers behind. Peter had his face hidden in Ned’s shoulder as he was carried through the hallways. Some students looked at them strangely but didn’t question them. This was high school, after all, there was weird shit happening around every corner and no one cared. 

They stumbled into the nurse’s office with eight people, Mrs. Green immediately jumping up from her chair, leaving her computer abandoned and rushing over. “Oh dear, oh dear,” she muttered. “Over here.” She rushed them over to one of the small beds that were about as comfortable as those cots at the doctor’s office and honestly looked like one of those as well.

Ned gently sat Peter down and MJ hand immediately shot out to steady him at his shoulder because otherwise he’d just have fallen back and toppled off the tiny cot backward. He really had it out for a head injury today.

“Lay him down,” Mrs. Green instructed and they got Peter situated after some shuffling around. He still wasn’t moving much on his own. “Okay, what happened here?” Mrs. Green asked, hands at her hips and gaze stern. “If he took something you gotta tell me. No one will get in trouble but it could be dangerous for him.”

A miffed grunt came from Peter and Mrs. Green raised one eyebrow. “Well?”

“No drugs,” Sally said. “He just passed out. Just…” She raised her forearm up straight and then let it flop over into a horizontal position to demonstrate. Her eyes were still wide. “Just straight up conked out.”

“It was dramatic,” Cindy added with a haunted expression. 

“Any issues? Diabetes or the like? Did he get hurt?” Mrs. Green continued, seemingly a bit placated that she didn’t have a nurse a drugged up high school teenager back to a proper state of mind. It wasn’t what she had signed up for but sadly it was part of her jobs.

“None, this never happened before,” Ned said worriedly. “He uh…” he glanced at Peter. “Hasn’t been eating all that much lately though.”

The entire group fell silent. Mrs. Green looked at them before sighing and shooing them aside. “Alright sweety,” she said as she approached Peter. From anyone else, it would sound condescending but Mrs. Green was a middle-aged black woman with perfectly maintain natural hair and a pair of cat-eye glasses. She called everyone sweetie and dear. “Did you eat breakfast this morning? Had anything before school?” Peter had rolled onto his side and stared at the floor pointedly. Mrs. Green took that as a negative answer. “Anything for lunch?”

MJ bit her lip because she knew Peter hadn’t eaten anything. Mrs. Green came to the same conclusion as more silence followed. “When was the last time you ate, dear?”

Peter looked way too small and out of place on that cot. He didn’t say anything, just shrugged his shoulders. 

Mrs. Green hummed somewhat disapprovingly. “Alright, I’d say your blood sugar is down in the basement and we gotta get that up before I’m sending you home. Name, dear?”

“Peter… Parker,” Peter mumbled, leaving out his middle name. At least he wasn’t completely spaced out yet. Mrs. Green hummed and made her way back to her desk. “And you kids go back to your classes, please. Lunch is almost over.”

“But-” Ned tried to protest but Mrs. Green looked at them sternly over the rim of her glasses. She might be a cool woman but she wasn’t lax. She wouldn’t allow students to loiter around in the nurse’s office just because they wanted to. She was caring and attentive but not a pushover. 

No one dared to protest and they reluctantly filed out of the office after patting Peter and telling him to rest up and please eat something. Charles placed Peter’s backpack down next to the cot while Ned hovered close. “I’m fine,” Peter mumbled again, sounding tired but trying to go for reassuring. Ned was obviously not reassured. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Text me if you need anything, okay?” 

Peter hummed, eyes half-closed. Ned sighed and retreated unwillingly. He looked back at MJ but she shooed him along so he left. MJ still hovered close. She usually wasn’t a worrywart and she usually didn’t like crowding people but she really, really didn’t want to leave Peter here on his own. Especially not until she knew he’d be picked up by May. 

“Alright sweetie, I have two phone numbers here. Is there one you want me to call?” Mrs. Green asked from her computer. Peter was silent for a moment before sighing softly. “May won’t pick up, she has appointments today.”

“And the other one? Benjamin?”

MJ winced.

Peter stared ahead blankly. “Dead.”

Mrs. Green turned in her swivel chair, concern written across her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at Peter before her eyes fell onto MJ, not having realized there was still someone else in the room. MJ had that effect on people. She sometimes regarded it as one of her special skills and liked to take advantage of it. It was perfect for people-watching. 

“Sweetie-” she started but MJ cut her off.

“My mom can come pick him up,” she said. She didn’t know why she had blurted it out but it felt right. She knew her mom would come. She might have some questions but when he said it was Peter she’d understand. Her mom was awesome like that, strict where she needed to be but also understanding where she needed to be.

Mrs. Green looked at her for some moments, turning towards Peter and then back at her. She nodded. “Alright. Do you want to call her?”

MJ nodded and pulled out her phone. 

“MJ,” Peter said in that small voice of his. “You don’t have to-”

“But I will,” MJ cut him off without looking. “I’ll go call her in the hallway real quick.” With that, she slipped out of the office, phone already against her ear and ringing. It took a few long moments before her mom picked up, clearly confused. 

“Emmie? Aren’t you in school?” There was an underlying warning in her voice that seemed to say ‘if you aren’t you have three seconds to explain yourself’.

“I am,” MJ assured her quickly. “I’m fine-” because that would be her next question- “it’s Peter. He passed out during lunch, almost hit his head and the nurse wants to send him home but he said May can’t come because she has appointments and… he hasn’t been eating and I thought you could… maybe…” She trailed off because she didn’t quite know how to explain herself. The line was silent while MJ nibbled on her bottom lip.

Then came a sigh. “That poor boy,” her mom mumbled. She knew about Ben, MJ had told her. She also knew that Peter wasn’t doing well, again because MJ had told her. She had never been one to keep secrets from her mom. “Alright Em, I’ll come over. It’ll take about twenty minutes probably.”

“Can you sign me out too?” MJ asked.

Again there was a beat of silence and another sigh after a moment. “Yeah, baby, but only as an exception.”

MJ smiled and nodded her head. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, mom, love you.”

“Love you too, baby. I’ll be there in a bit.”

The line went dead and MJ allowed herself a small moment to relish in her victory before she slipped back into the nurse’s office. Mrs. Green was back at her computer, typing away because this seemed to be about 50% of what a school nurse did. MJ had always wondered what they did the whole day but there seemed to be quite a bit of paperwork. That or Mrs. Green simply entertained herself by setting up word documents and excel sheets. 

Peter was sitting up on the cot, back against the wall and knees drawn up. He was sipping on a juice box of all things like they were in elementary school, the straw caught between his lips listlessly. Next to him on the cot was a plate of cookies and pieces of fruit. He looked up when MJ closed the door as did Mrs. Green. 

“My mom’s coming in about half an hour,” MJ said and Mrs. Green nodded. 

“Alright.” She looked at MJ intently and then added, “you can stay until then if you’d like.”

MJ accepted this without adding she wouldn’t be going back to class today anyway and hopped onto the cot next to Peter’s feet. He let go of the clear plastic straw to speak. “You didn’t have to call your mom,” he said quietly over the clacking of Mrs. Green acrylic nails on the old computer keyboard. “I’m fine.”

“I just saw you quite impressively impersonating a victorian lady who wore her corset too tightly,” MJ deadpanned, not even feeling sorry for the wince and grimace she got from Peter in return. “So no, from that I deducted you’re not fine.” She sent Peter a meaningful look that clearly said it wasn’t just that. There was clearly more about him that indicated he was not fine. 

Peter knew this so he didn’t argue. He just sighed quietly and went back to his juice box. Ten minutes later he was slowly eating the cookies and fruit slices when Mrs. Green came over with two more juice boxes. Peter sent her an uncertain look, clearly not planning on draining two more liquid sugar supplies but Mrs. Green handed one to MJ who thought it was hilarious but stabbed her own plastic straw through the opening anyway. 

She kicked her feet lazily and pulled out her sketchbook from her bag. She couldn’t remember who had grabbed it, whether it had been herself or someone else but she didn’t ponder on it for long. Instead, she flipped to the last page with the three finished and one half started sketch, holding up the book so Peter could see the page and crooking one eyebrow at him in question.

He sucked another mouthful of liquid sugar into his mouth and let go of the straw as he swallowed. “Impressive,” he said. Not in a dismissive voice but not as enthusiastic as he would usually comment on MJ’s art. Still, MJ took it as the small victory that it was and grinned around the straw between her teeth. 

“You managed to catch his constant displeased face,” Peter continued. “I can hear those pictures yelling at me.”

MJ snorted and dropped the straw before she could send juice flying across the floor. She took another look at her sketches herself and agreed with a hum. “He always pulls these faces. Imagine he’d get botox and nothing would move.”

Peter huffed, a small smile on his face as he shook his head. MJ hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from him in a long while but she wouldn’t push. She’d hear it again when Peter felt like laughing again. Whenever that might be. Until then she would take every hint of a positive reaction that she could get without complaining. 

She continued sipping on her juice box while Peter finished up his plate. MJ hope he wouldn’t attempt another nosedive to sustain a head injury now that he had at least some sugar in his blood. She’d have to ask her mom for some actual food once they were home. Maybe some sandwiches or something that would be easy to stomach. 

With perfect timing, MJ’s mom entered the nurse’s office. Her hair was wrapped in a silk scarf since she hasn’t had the time to style it properly. Her handbag was squished between her arm and her ribcage and she took an assessing sweep of the room with her eyes until they fell onto MJ and Peter. She smiled at them and then turned to Mrs. Green. 

MJ slid down from the cot and picked up her bag. Peter did the same albeit a bit slower. Then they were waiting for MJ’s mom to sign another slip of paper before she finally shooed them out of the office. 

“Peter, dear, are you alright?” she asked, giving him her undivided attention in the otherwise empty hallway. 

Peter startled a little and blinked up at her. “Oh, I… yeah, I’m… yeah.”

Mrs. Jones searched his eyes for a moment but then nodded and lead the way out of the school. “Alright, off to the car then.”

They followed her like lambs and once Peter realized MJ wasn’t about to go back to class but slipped into the backseat of the car with him, he gave her a curious look. She just shrugged and raised her brows, prompting him to voice his question. Peter didn’t because this was MJ they were talking about here. 

“Thank you for picking me up, Mrs. Jones,” Peter said softly as the car started. “You can just drop me off at home. I can give you the address.”

Mrs. Jones looked up and through the rearview mirror. First at Peter and then at her own daughter. MJ sent her a meaningful look back. Her mother understood since she was an amazing woman. 

“I’d feel better if you weren’t alone, Peter. You can stay at ours and then I’ll take you home as soon as your aunt is back.” 

MJ nodded to herself.

Peter looked like he wanted to argue but then stopped himself and deflated like a sad balloon. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, dear,” Mrs. Jones said gently. “Just take care of yourself.”

Peter nodded mutely. 

MJ fished for the AUX cord because silence was depressing and played some of her more… mainstream music for the ride. She also texted Ned to let him know what was going on because he’d be beyond worried otherwise. 

Peter had been over once or twice before so he knew the way to MJ’s room but he still stood in the entrance like a lost puppy. MJ took pity on him and grabbed his wrist to lead him to her room. 

“I’ll make some sandwiches for you,” Mrs. Jones called from the kitchen. 

“Thanks, mom!”

Once the sandwiches were eaten - and MJ made sure Peter ate at least one - they put on a random series. Peter ended up mostly lying on MJ’s bed while she sat up against the headboard. They didn’t talk. Or rather, Peter didn’t talk and MJ didn’t pry. She figured if Peter wanted to talk he’d do so. He was usually one for sharing and until now he had always cracked at some point. If he wasn’t ready to talk or didn’t want to then MJ could respect that. She hoped Peter knew she’d be there to listen if he wanted to talk though. 

Peter’s eyes were closed at some point so MJ lowered the volume of the TV just slightly, slipped off Peter’s glasses and grabbed a book. 

That is what they did for the entirety of almost two episodes. MJ didn’t mind. Peter wasn’t here to entertain her. This wasn’t a sleepover and she was always happy about time to read so she didn’t complain. She only looked up from her current page when Peter shifted next to her. For a moment she guessed Peter was waking up but that wasn't the case. He remained asleep but his eyebrows furrowed and his muscles tightened. His breathing turned a bit more strained and his hands twitched. He seemed to be dreaming but it was clearly not a very pleasant dream. 

MJ watched, unsure of what to do. Peter needed to catch up on sleep, that much was clear, but how good would a restless sleep be? It would surely be neither pleasant nor energizing. She was still debating when Peter made a small noise next to her. He sounded hurt almost so MJ decided she’d rather wake him up. She reached over and shook his shoulder gently. He could always just go back to sleep if he wanted to.

“Pete?” She shook him a little firmer when he didn’t open his eyes at first. “Peter?”

Peter woke up with a startle, a gasp escaping him and eyes flying open. They switched around in a panicked manner so MJ retrieved his glasses and settled them back onto his nose. Peter blinked in confusion, reaching up to adjust them properly out of habit and then turning towards MJ who was looking down at him worriedly. 

“MJ?” he asked, voice tired and confused. 

“Yeah.” She eyed him closely. “You conked out at school. My mom picked us up. We were watching something but you fell asleep. Looked like you had a nightmare.”

It took a while for the words to register in Peter’s brain. When they did he let himself slump back against the mattress and ran a hand through his hair. He stared up at the ceiling for a while almost motionless until he rolled onto his side, facing away from MJ.

The noise from the TV was the only thing faintly echoing around the room. MJ couldn’t go back to her book. Her eyes always ended up on Peter’s back, just staring at him like some voiceover would explain what was going on and what she needed to do. She wasn’t sure what to do, if she should remain quiet, just not say anything or if she should… do something. She had no idea what that something would be but… humans often had a desire for action when they felt helpless. MJ didn’t want to think about the implications of this admission. 

A quiet sniffle reached her and her eyes settled back on Peter. Another one. His shoulders trembled. Something inside of MJ cave in.

“Hey,” she said softly. The fact that Peter didn’t react to this or her hand on his shoulder spoke volumes. Usually, people weren’t comfortable being this vulnerable around others but Peter seemed too tired to care. MJ didn’t know what to do. She rarely cried and there wasn't anyone she would have had to cheer up when they were down. She’d dare say she had almost no experience. She just… wasn’t like that but Peter was. He wore his heart on his sleeve, saw the good in everything. It wouldn’t be fair to just leave him alone in his sorrow when MJ was right there. 

She leaned forward and scooped up her polar bear plush from where it sat, holding it out to Peter over his back. The quiet sniffles ceased when it entered his field of sight. 

“Here.” MJ gently pushed it against his chest. 

Peter turned his head slightly to look at her unsurely. There were tear streaks on his face, nose and eyes red. MJ tried hard not to show how much it hurt seeing her friend like this and averted her eyes. She nudged the polar bear against Peter’s chest again. “Always helps me when I’m down.” She mumbled shyly. Cuddling with plushies was deemed uncool apparently but MJ didn’t exactly play into this whole thing anyway. 

Peter didn’t move for a while and she didn’t look but at some point, the plush was gently pulled out of her hold and she let go, glancing over again. Peter hugged the plush to his chest, almost curling around it and tried his best to be quiet. That alone told MJ she hadn’t done enough. She sighed quietly because if she could just do one thing and take all the sadness away she’d do it in a heartbeat. No matter how out of character or whatever. If Peter needed something then she would do her best to provide. 

She went through all possible options her brain could come up with. None of them sounded promising except for one. MJ didn’t know if she was the right person to do this, if it was her Peter might want this from but… she guessed there was nothing left to try. She at least had to try.

“Hey,” she said again and scooted a bit closer to put her hand onto Peter’s shoulder to make sure he was there. “Do… do you want to talk about it?” she asked carefully. 

Peter didn’t react to her question. At least she didn’t feel him move and his eyes remained averted. He sniffled quietly. 

MJ bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing if she should leave it at that or not. She didn’t want to make Peter talk if that wasn’t what he wanted but she wanted him to know he could if that’s what he needed. 

“You don’t have to,” she said softly. “But… if you want to then you can. I’ll listen.”

There was no response. MJ wasn’t surprised but her heart still ached. She turned her eyes away from Peter, glancing at the TV where some people were talking but the words didn’t reach her. Mouths were moving and sounds reached her ears but her brain didn’t process it. 

“It’s my fault.” It was small and Peter’s voice shook when he said this.

MJ turned back to him, staring at his shoulders. “What?” she asked gently because she didn’t… didn’t understand. Peter couldn’t be… he couldn’t mean… that , right?

“Ben… it’s… it’s my fault.”

MJ’s heart felt like it was falling out of her ribcage and her mind was reeling. “What… what do you mean?” she asked, worry and concern thick in her voice. This was not what she had expected. She… she had expected a lot of things, had learned to expect all sorts of things but this… this was… Her heart thumped in her chest heavily.

Peter sniffed and took a few shaky breaths. “The… when we went…. the guy he…” He choked up and needed a moment. MJ adjusted her leg so it rested against his back. She didn’t know if it helped but if he couldn’t see she was there he could at least feel it. 

The white polar bear was squished against Peter’s chest as he tried to continue. “The… he was… he was pointing at m-me but…” a quiet sob interrupted him and his voice grew increasingly unstable. 

MJ wasn’t sure if her heart was still beating or if she was still breathing. Everything felt kind of hazy.

“He was pointing at me but Ben… B-Ben pushed me away and then h-he pulled the trigger and-” Peter cut himself off with another gut-wrenching sob. His shoulders shook as he curled up around the plush in his arms, trying to stifle his cries and hiccups.

MJ couldn’t process.

What she had just heard… She knew what had happened, roughly, but she didn’t know how and now Peter was… He said it had been him and… and Ben had pushed him out of the way which meant…

Peter could have been dead instead of his uncle, instead of Ben. 

MJ couldn’t breathe. The mere thought made her shake. One of her friends, one of the people who meant so much to her could have been killed. For a moment she couldn’t… she couldn’t hate herself for… for being glad it hadn’t been Peter. 

The thought horrified her, being glad someone else had died instead and the developing lump in her throat was almost unbearable. She couldn’t… when Peter was mourning the death of his uncle, MJ couldn’t be relieved it hadn’t bee Peter. That… no!

The thought echoed at the back of her mind as she tried desperately to shove it into a box and lock it for eternity. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow herself to think that way.

She put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, feeling the tremors that ran through his body. “Peter…” her voice shook and her eyes burned. “You… you can’t think that way,” she croaked, unsure if she was talking to herself or her friend for a moment. She shook her head. She was talking to Peter and Peter only. 

“Peter…” MJ squeezed his shoulder but he didn’t look up. “You… you’re not the… you’re not the reason why Ben died,” she managed to get out, voice faint. 

Peter just sobbed and hid his face in the plush’s white fur. 

MJ swallowed thickly. “He… there was a sick person with a gun who pulled the trigger. It’s not… it’s not your fault.”

Peter hiccupped pitifully. “B-but I was there- I… I tried, I… I tried to- to stop the- but-” he gasped for air shakily. “I c-couldn’t- I tried, I promise- I…” More cries interrupted him. 

MJ’s eyes watered as she rubbed Peter’s shoulder for both his and her benefit. “It’s not your fault,” she insisted, trying to sound firm even when her voice shook. “It’s not your fault. I promise. It’s not your fault. Ben s-saved you because he loves you.” She couldn’t stop her own tears but wiped them away shakily. This wasn’t about her.

She had met Ben a few times. He had always been nice and happy. He had given her cookies and a cupcake to try and had been interested in her book that she had brought along. Everyone could see how much… how much he had loved Peter. Which is why she understood why he had pushed him aside that night. He’d rather save Peter than himself. 

It… it was heartbreaking. He had deserved to live longer. May had deserved to spend all her life with her doting husband. Peter had deserved to have an uncle who cared for him like he was his own son. Ben had deserved all that but some guy with a gun had taken everything from him. His wishes, his goals, his ideas, his passions, his wife, his nephew.

His life. 

All of that over in just a few heartbeats. Leaving a mourning widow and a heartbroken nephew who blamed himself for his death.

“I should’ve… maybe if I had tried harder,” Peter sniffed in a choked up manner. The way he said it… it sounded like he had been thinking about this constantly. He blamed himself for his uncle’s death. Peter blamed himself for Ben’s death because it had been him the gun had been pointed at, it had been him who had tried to stop the blood but even then he had felt Ben’s heart stopping underneath his blood-red hands. 

MJ hesitantly reached up to run her fingers through his hair. He didn’t flinch so she kept doing it, ignoring the way her fingers trembled. “It’s not your fault,” she insisted, firmer this time although the thought of Peter blaming himself pained her. “You… you couldn’t have done anything.” She swallowed thickly as he sniffled. “I’m sorry. You… you did everything you could.”

Peter hiccuped quietly, barely managing to breathe properly through his tears and all the emotions taking their toll on him. “I just… I just miss him so much.”

MJ closed her eyes and had to take a few controlled and deep breaths to keep herself from breaking out into sobs as well. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”

She continued running her fingers through Peter’s hair, his curls looping around them sometimes like they were trying to keep her there. Under normal circumstances, it would have made her smile but now she could only watch solemnly. 

The people from the TV were talking again about something. Neither of them cared to pay attention so the conversation was nothing more than muffled background noise. Peter was slowly calming down. MJ was convinced his reservoir of tears must be completely depleted after the last two weeks. She wished he wouldn’t have to lose any more of them but she also knew that this wasn’t something you could just fix within a day or a few. It took time, a lot of time and it wasn’t a steady uphill climb either. But whenever Peter was struggling and close to falling back she wanted to be there to steady him, to help him with the next steps until he was no longer falling. 

She couldn’t fix this, she couldn’t fix Peter like he was a broken object. He wasn’t broken. He just needed time.

“Peter?” she asked softly as a new episode started on the TV. MJ didn’t know how many they had gone through by now. 

“Hm?” it was barely audible and shaky but it was there, small and vulnerable. MJ wouldn’t have thought she’d ever witness Peter in such a state. She wouldn’t have thought she’d be here, reassuring Peter his uncle’s death hadn’t been his fault. She wanted to do more. She wanted to take the pain away and make everything better but she couldn’t. There was no magic spell to make the mourning happy or to bring someone back to life. It wasn’t how life worked. Life was cruel and unfair and painful. The only thing they could do was try to make the best out of it even when all hope seemed gone and the looming shadows were closing in.

There was always a small glimmer of hope left, you just had to find it. Sometimes it would take a while, sometimes it would be so small you almost missed it and sometimes you needed other people to show you where it was but it was there. It would always be there. 

MJ looped one of Peter’s curls around her finger and watched it unroll as she gently pulled away and played with another curl. “Can…” she hesitated, considering her words carefully. Peter moved his head just slightly so he could glance over his shoulder at her. MJ looked at his bloodshot eyes. She thought back to the moment earlier where he had just fallen forward, where she had been lucky and quick enough to catch him. It had been scary and… she never wanted to see Peter like that ever again. “Can you promise me that you’ll try to take care of yourself?” she asked carefully. She knew it was a lot to ask, especially now but she had to know. 

Peter searched her eyes for a while before settling back in his previous position. His hand ran through the polar bear’s fur absentmindedly. He seemed tired. “I… I can try,” he mumbled quietly, unsure.

MJ’s thumb rubbed over the back of his neck gently. “Please, that’s… I just want you to try. You’re not alone, you know? You… you have May and Ned and me and everyone else. We’re all here whenever you need us. If you can try to… to try that’s… We’re all here to help.”

Peter sniffled and nodded his head. MJ felt like she could breathe a little bit easier. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, it wasn’t even the solution she wanted to come up with but… it was the best they could do. 

It wouldn’t be easy and she knew she couldn’t ask for too much but she was selfish enough to ask Peter to try. Not for her sake but for his own. It would take time and there will be setbacks but MJ would be there, reminding Peter it was worth trying and there were people there for him. 

One day things would get better and trying would get easier. 

Peter knew he had to do better. Not just for himself. Mostly for himself, sure, but… he couldn’t just let go. 

May - she cried often. It had become a little less over the last week. At the funeral, she had only cried when they had said goodbye to Ben. Peter didn’t know how she could be so strong. Maybe it came with age, he didn’t know. All he knew was that May tried to be strong. She tried so, so hard for herself and for him. 

Peter knew he wasn’t making it easy for her. He hadn’t talked about that night much, not really. He couldn’t bring himself to tell May how her husband had died, how…

He just couldn't. Not now but perhaps at some point in the future. They had always shared everything so at some point he would share this as well but right now he couldn’t. The first time he had ever brought it up was with MJ. Peter didn’t know why exactly he had told her though he could think of a few reasons. 

They had been away from school. Away from prying eyes and a schedule and friends that were supposed to keep Peter busy, keep him from spending too much time in his thoughts. Sometimes he went to school and came back and had no idea what he had done for all those hours. 

Then it was MJ. She… she had a different way of going about things. She was tough but even then she cared a lot. She always seemed to know what to do and acted more mature than most kids their age. Still, Peter had hesitated to open up to her. He didn’t want to burden anyone with his thoughts and he didn’t think it would make it any better but… it had. 

It had made it better even if just slightly. 

Deep down Peter knew if hadn’t been his fault but he hadn’t allowed himself to believe or accept that. When MJ had said it, insisted it wasn’t his fault… that was the reassurance Peter needed. He knew everyone would give it in a heartbeat no matter what. May would fall over herself and cry rivers if he brought it up. Ned too would hug Peter so tight that his ribs would ache and ask how he could ever say something horrible like that. 

Peter knew.

He needed to hear it and hearing it from MJ, the girl who always said what she thought, who didn’t lie even when the truth was uncomfortable. The girl who was blunt and never did anything she didn’t want to do. When she said it wasn’t his fault then… then Peter could try to believe it. 

He could try. He had promised. 

And he would. 

He would try.

Because he wanted to. For himself and for everyone around him.

For Ben.

Because while Peter had been hysteric, tears burying his vision and hands drench in warm blood, Ben had smiled and told him that he wanted him to be good and live his life however he wanted to. That he needed to be strong and that he had May and… and that he would always watch over him and that he loved him. That Peter was like the son he never had and that he was so so thankful for the time he had able to spend with him. 

He told him to tell May that he loved her and that he wanted her to be happy. He wanted both of them to be happy even when he wasn’t there anymore. 

Ben… he had died with a gentle smile on his face, hand slowly slipping from Peter’s cheek as his eyes lost their shine and his heart stopped beating underneath Peter’s trembling hands.

When Peter got home that day, after passing out at school and then spilling his heart out to MJ, he came home to May clamoring around in the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back messily, her clothes pristine because of the appointments she had. Legal stuff about the café, the apartment, the car.

Peter had never known how much needed to be changed and done when… when a person died. He has never had to think about it but now he knew and he never wanted to do it again. He never wanted to go through all that ever again in his life. Never again.

When Peter came home there was a pan on the stove with dinner and May whirled around to look at him, expression relieved when she saw him standing up and unharmed. May who always cared for him, who had rubbed his back when he had been sick as a kid, who bought him his favorite cereal, who had picked him up on his first day of high school, who always looked out for him, who loved him like he was her own kid although they weren’t blood-related. He came home to May, the only family he had left.

“Peter,” she said softly and Peter took three big steps until he was in her arms, holding her tight and just… thanking the universe that he had May. That she was here for him and he was there for her and they were together. They had each other still even after all this. 

“Oh sweetheart,” May murmured and kissed the top of his head before resting her chin there and stroking the back of his nape soothingly. 

Peter didn’t cry, for once. All this time he hadn’t run out of tears. He wasn’t sure if there were finally no tears left to cry or if his body had grown tired of crying all the time. He was sad, yes, he was mourning still. It wouldn’t go away today, the next day or even a week from now. Peter knew this. It wouldn’t magically disappear but… it would hurt less. With time it would hurt less.

He had May and his friends. 

He wasn’t alone.

“I love you,” he whispered against May’s collarbone, loud enough for her to hear. 

May squeezed him against her before leaning back. There was a soft smile on her face, eyes glistening. “I know,” she murmured, running her hand through his hair and swiping her thumb over his cheekbone just underneath his glasses. “I love you too.”

For the first time, Peter managed a genuine smile. It was small and it was sad but it was a smile. 

May’s eyes brightened and she leaned in to kiss his forehead and brush back his hair. “Come on, I made dinner,” she said and lead him over to the table which was set for only two.

Peter sat down with her and they ate dinner, together, talking about their day and trying their best to get better.

It would get better. 

It would hurt less. 

With time.

Someday it would hurt less.

Until then Peter would try.

For himself, for May, for his friends. 

For Ben.