Chapter Text
Peter couldn’t do it anymore.
He didn’t want to keep going.
He just witnessed Johnny Storm’s light escape his eyes. He wished he hadn’t but he also doesn’t regret it. He was glad he was able to tell Johnny he loved him one more time, and Johnny told him he loved Peter too.
Peter thought, for a moment, what if things had been different? What if Peter’s spidey sense was quicker? He quickly swept that thought under the rug. There was nothing left to do. His light was gone.
With a choked sob, he gently kissed the hero’s forehead and smiled softly as a waterfall of tears fell down his cheeks. Unable to stop the tears, he looked up and swore that the world lost some color.
Peter didn’t want to keep fighting.
His uncle was dead. Gwen was dead. Harry was dead. His aunt was dead. Hell, half if not most of the people he knew were dead or had left him. And now, Johnny was gone too. It seemed like everyone left his life eventually.
Sometimes, he wondered why everyone around him left except him. Sometimes, he wondered if this was a cruel punishment because of some past life he had.
Peter wanted it to be over.
But he gathered all his physical strength to get back up. To stand back up even if he was empty.
It happened in a few seconds, he realized. But in the moment, it felt long and final. Out of nowhere, a blinding light engulfed his vision. He was forced to squint. He heard the distant sound of metal whirring nearby.
Peter didn’t really feel the pain. He assumed this was a concoction of a villain who hated him. It seemed like a powerful type of beam that would probably burn him to a crisp, and only leaving his burnt remains. It’d be really fucking gross.
He suddenly thought of Johnny. He didn’t deserve to have his body mangled like this. Sue didn’t deserve to find her brother’s body burnt beyond recognition. As the machine seemingly got ready to emit its deadly beam, Peter practically threw himself onto Johnny's body to cover him.
As he laid on the corpse of his long-time boyfriend and probably the love of his life, he thought about his life. Those he saved, those he failed. The people he had disappointed to go save the city. His private life was destroyed by his vigilantism. Peter guessed that’s why, in the end, he ended up trusting the famous superhero family and two other vigilantes. At one point, probably after MJ had cut off ties with him, he completely gave up on trying to maintain his private life separate.
He was so tired of death everywhere he went. He was so tired of the personal responsibility that had weighed on his shoulders half of his goddamn life. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of trying.
Peter didn’t mind going.
—
He awoke with a jolt. With his legs doing a violent jerk, he snapped his eyes open.
He sat up on his bed and looked around a bit. This was his room from when he lived with May. He saw the Star Wars posters and the stacks of books on his desk. The last time his room looked like this he was still in high school.
Wasn’t his time up? Was this Heaven? He stood up and the floor creaked slightly as he placed the bottoms of his feet against the carpeted wood.
The strong scent of corn syrup coupled with Aunt May’s humming he was able to hear with his enhanced hearing made him smile. Everything blurred as he thought about how much he missed this. He figured this was some sort of afterlife. He hoped it was a gift from the world as a thank you. Because maybe being Spider-man did make a difference in his city.
He stood up and suddenly it felt like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders. All the guilt, the grief, and the regret. Because this was a thank you wrapped up with a nice bow. It was all gone now because he was dead. Being dead meant you got to feel relief again.
He let his tears fall again as he looked at his bedroom door. Nothing mattered anymore. He was dead, and Aunt May was here. Since he was long gone, this meant Uncle Ben was back too. Peter hadn’t felt this at peace in years.
He picked up his scratched up phone from his nightstand and checked the date. A Saturday. Of course it was. His Heaven wouldn’t have school in it.
He walked to the kitchen in his pajamas. As soon as he sat down at the dining table, May turned around and Peter’s heart felt even lighter. There she was, smiling, holding a stack of three pancakes with syrup drizzled on top.
She placed the pancakes on the table, “How’d you sleep, Pete?”
Peter froze.
Peter turned around in the bed half awake and was met with those familiar blue eyes. Johnny smiled, “How’d you sleep, Pete?”
“Peter?” He blinked away his memory and looked back up at Aunt May.
“Good. I slept really good last night.”
“Great until your annoying ass woke me up.” Johnny chuckled as he began playing with Peter’s hair.
Peter stuffed his mouth with a pancake. If he was dead, he’d see Johnny again. He just had to wait a little.
He played with his second pancake a little, “Hey, Aunt May?”
“Yeah?” She sat down across from him with two pancakes.
“Where’s Uncle Ben?” Peter put another piece of pancake in his mouth. He looked up and found Aunt May staring at him. Frozen.
She gave him a small smile, “I know it’s been a tough year. Do you wanna visit him later? I don’t work today, so it’s okay with me.”
No, no, it’s all wrong.
“Do you wanna stop and get some flowers too? Maybe the blue ones he liked if Shop Rite has any.”
Oh god, no.
Suddenly the pancake in his mouth felt like a dry sponge soaked in raw, thick honey. The weight on his shoulders came back and it felt ten times heavier. The room felt hot and cold at the same time. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t breathe right anymore.
Everyone’s dead. Everyone’s dead. None of this is real. Everyone’s dead and you’re all alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Dead. Alone. Dead.
“Yeah, uh, May I’ll be back. I just remembered I have to drop something off at uh-“
“Oh, right! I forgot you have a big Chemistry project to do with Ned! Wait, what about your clothes-”
“I’ll be back.” He said in a rush as he shut their apartment door and jogged aimlessly outside.
Oh god, he was gonna purge.
Quickly, he snuck into an alleyway and scanned the area. He was gonna try to find a trash can but settled for the hard cement ground. Same difference.
When he was done, he messily wiped his mouth with the bottom of his oversized shirt, and leaned against the cleaner part of the wall.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a ragged breath.
“That was kinda gross not gonna lie.”
Peter knew that voice. He opened his eyes and and looked at where it came from.
What the fuck .
“You... you know me?”
The scarred man stared at him for a moment. He furrowed his eyebrows, “Maybe, maybe not.” He replied as he played with the strings of his black hoodie.
He stopped leaning on the wall and kept staring at the man, “How, uh, how old are you?”
“Listen, kid, I’m not into pedophilia-“
“What the fuck, I’m— oh . I just realized how that sounded. And I am, in fact, a minor now.” He looked away. Peter cleared his throat and thought for a few seconds. “Your name’s Wade, right? Wade Wilson?”
Wade looked at him with a face mixed with confusion and offense. “Yeeeaah,” he said, dragging out his answer.
“Are you Deadpool?” Peter asked, hoping for the best.
To his surprise (well, when does this guy ever not surprise Peter), Wade smiled, “Oh my gosh! I have a fan?”
Peter couldn’t help it, it was contagious. He smiled back, “Guess you could say that.” It was at that moment that Peter realized he was not in Heaven. If he was, Ben would be here. He was also not in Hell. If he was, May wouldn’t have been so nice. So where the fuck was he? His eyes darted around the disgusting alleyway.
Oh shit.
He was in the past. Wade was clearly just beginning to be Deadpool.
And- and-
“I know it’s been a tough year. Do you wanna visit him later? I don’t work today, so it’s okay with me.”
Peter was fifteen years old and still using a Stark suit.
Oh God, Tony Stark .
Oh shit, Ned .
Oh fuck, Michelle .
Goddamn.
Was he supposed to change the course of history— or future? Was he supposed to just relive his entire Spider-man career for the rest of eternity as some kind of punishment? Why didn’t the light beam shit just kill him like it should have? Why him? Could he tell anyone? What-
“Are you gonna take a shit?”
Peter snapped out of his internal dilemma. “What?”
“It looks like you’re about to take a shit. Also, why are you in your pajamas, it’s twelve o’clock in the afternoon. Actually, never mind. I don’t wanna know. Actually, maybe I do-”
“I need to go.” He turned to leave.
He stopped walking. Fuck it.
Peter turned back around, “You should ask double D for some advice on this whole vigilante shtick.” He turned and kept walking until he was lost in the crowds of New York City.
Wait.
He didn’t live in NYC yet. He still lived in Manhattan.
God, this was nostalgic. He just didn’t know whether it was a good nostalgia or bad nostalgia.