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Peter hadn’t realised just how… lonely he was.
Because he was. Lonely. He felt hollow. Thoroughly empty, just limbs that moved without being told to and a heart that beat with reckless abandon against his own wishes. He just was. He existed, through no fault of his own, and every day he felt that took a toll on him. Because if not empty, how would you describe existing with a giant gaping hole in the middle of his chest. If not hollow, what would you call a life with no purpose. So yes, he was hollow.
An empty nesting doll, might have been the best way to describe it. He was sure he was whole once, full. But every part of him had been taken away from him. He had been stripped bare, parts of him stolen over time. And if there was enough of Peter to be hurt, then maybe he would have felt a flicker, a lick, a twist of it in his chest. But he felt nothing other than the feeling that a part of him had indeed vanished. Taken for good, with Thanos. Or perhaps, not just him. Perhaps the continuous consequences that seemed to make up his life. And all that was left was the outer nesting doll. Perhaps the biggest, with the most bravado, but there was no substance underneath.
Peter Parker was a lonely boy.
When did it start? Probably as a child. Losing your parents, regardless of how much you remembered of them, it hurt. And Peter didn’t remember much. Maybe that was why it hurt so much. He had pictures, sure. So he knew he looked more like his mother than his father, with her softer features. But May and Ben didn’t really talk about them. May stopped outright after Ben. So Peter knew who he looked like. But who did he take after? Were his parents the quiet kind? Not talking more than they had to, but every word hitting home- they were scientists after all, so did that transfer throughout their lives. Peter found it hard to imagine, with Ben being so outspoken and never short on laughs. Did Peter laugh like his mum or dad? What were they like? He knew they were good people, everyone told him that. But telling him about it wasn’t the same as him being able to experience it for himself. It wasn’t the same as knowing where and who he came from. Perhaps the giant gaping hole in his chest came from the missing pieces of his parents, and then Ben, and eventually May.
May. Peter had time to mourn Ben. He became spider-man so that he could do better. He had a crutch. He had some fight left in him. And eventually, with the help of May, they managed to come to terms with it.
But May. May? That was hard to come to terms with. Maybe it was because her death was so mundane. So boring. Nothing to blame and no one to be mad at. No evil guy to chase. She just slipped and banged her head. Fell unconscious. And then never woke up again.
Or maybe it was because he had already lost so many parts of himself. He always gave his everything to the people around him, to the people he loved. And they all died. And she took another piece of him with her to her grave. And Peter wasn’t sure how much of himself he had left.
A small part of him wanted to get rid of the last piece. The small fraction that sat in his chest. To be free of it. So him and his lonely heart could disappear forever.
Who’d miss one lonely boy anyway?