Chapter Text
He anticipates the knock before he even hears it. For some reason his spider-senses go haywire, and he flinches as he hears footsteps walk up to his door, seconds before he hears the angry knock. Three times, and the sound feels like someone is knocking a hammer against his skull.
Peter groans, for a moment deliberating whether he should just ignore it, but when another round of knocks are heard, he throws the blanket off him. He blinks for a couple of seconds, staring at the red spot on his blanket. What happened? He sucks in a breath, glancing down at his leg and wincing.
The bandages he had wrapped around his right upper thigh were stained red, dried blood sticking to his leg. Bruises littered his body, and-. Peter snaps his head up as someone knocks again.
“I’m coming!” He shouts, forcing down a cough at the rough state of his voice. He quickly stumbles out of the bed, almost crashing as he puts pressure on his leg but he quickly catches himself. The small cracked mirror on the wall gives him a quick reassurance that at least his face was spared from any injuries… this time.
He reaches the door to his apartment quickly, opening the door as much as the deadlock allows him and making sure his injuries were hidden from view.
“Finally,” A deep voice grumbles, and Peter glances up at a voice he knows all too well. “It’s August, I want my rent,” He continues, and Peter grimaces at that. Right.
“I-I don’t have it yet, give me two more days, I’ll get it to you, promise,” Peter stammers out. His landlord, Arnie Howes, narrows his eyes. He was clearly not happy with Peter right now, but eventually he grumbles.
“Two days, or you’re out,” He hisses, before pulling the door shut himself. Peter flinches at that, staring at the door as Arnie retreats from the hallway. Peter breathes out a sigh, turning around and leaning back against the door. He groans, eyes squeezing shut and releasing a shuddering breath.
He knew he was late on rent, he was about to work yesterday but he had to leave early when his spider sense started tingling. He couldn’t just leave those people alone!
Peter hisses, finally looking down at his thigh again and grimacing. He really needed to clean that up. Peter drags himself to the bathroom of his apartment, sitting down on the lid of his toilet and grabbing the first aid kit. He clicks it open, staring at the contents for a moment and ignoring the dread in his stomach.
He was already low on rent and now his medical kit was almost empty too. Peter reaches for the bandages around his thigh, carefully unwinding them from his leg. The blood sticks to his leg and he hisses as he pulls it off. The wound was already half healed, but the moment he rips off the bandage it starts bleeding again slightly.
Some thug had gotten lucky yesterday, and managed to stab him in the leg. Some webbing allowed Peter to make his way back to his home before he bled out. Luckily his healing took care of the wound. Peter digs through his kit, pulling out some more bandages and wrapping it around his thigh.
He hisses again when he tightens the bandages, throwing away the old ones before closing the kit. The sound of people walking the streets was deafening, but it was comforting all the same to be so close to the people of New York. It was his city, and his job to protect them so he needed to be close.
Peter limps over to the rest of his room, grabbing some pants and a clean shirt really quickly and putting them on. He’s careful to avoid the wound on his leg.
He sits down on the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and glancing at the clock. 9 in the morning, he had barely gotten 4 hours of sleep, but that was already a lot for him these days. His apartment was a mess, but then again, there wasn’t a lot he could do about it, it was a lost cause.
At least he had everything he needed. He had a tiny bathroom, with toilet, sink and a shower. And outside of that he had one relatively sized room where a single bed, a small couch, a table and a kitchen could barely fit. The furniture was old, and probably caused 50% of his back issues, but it was something.
With him technically not even existing there wasn’t a lot that he could do. He wasn’t able to hold an official job, and the only reason he had this apartment was because he almost always paid his rent on time. Arnie didn’t quite care as long as he got paid, but Peter suspected him renting this place wasn’t entirely legal either.
Which is the only reason why Arnie hadn’t kicked him out.
Peter sighs, standing up and walking over to the window. It had been months now since his mistake, months of living alone, months since May….
He shakes his head, not wanting to think about it. He needed to fix his rent situation soon or he’d be homeless. That was his first priority, but first he needed some coffee to wake up. He walks over to the drawer next to his bed, opening it and taking out 2 dollars from the jar and stuffing it in his pants.
He then grabs his bag with his old laptop and puts on a thin jacket, making his way out of his apartment.
*
*
*
Peter knows what MJ would have told him if she knew. She would call him a stalker, with that tone that he once confused with sincerity. Instead, he now knew she was joking. She both loathed and loved that he could, because it meant that one of her defence mechanisms had fallen away from her.
MJ didn’t particularly mind that there was someone in her life that could understand her, that could see through the mask she had put on to protect herself.
Peter doesn’t quite know what to feel as he walks down the street, keeping his eyes on the ground. He feels empty at the realisation that he knew how she would react… if she still knew him. But she didn’t, she didn’t know him, and the moment he walked into that shop it would all become real again.
The face that once looked at him with endearment, as if he was her entire world, was now filled with nothing but vague recognition about a regular customer who would always happen to come by when she worked. Saturdays throughout the day, and Wednesday after school, to save up money for MIT, but ever since summer break she had been working more.
Including today on Thursday.
Peter stops in front of the coffeeshop, opening the door and glancing over at the counter. MJ was standing there, smiling softly at another customer as she handed him two coffees to go.
Peter swallows thickly for a moment, catching MJ’s gaze and he smiles softly at her. MJ does the same, not confused anymore when seeing him.
“The usual?” She asks him, and Peter nods.
“Yeah yeah, like always,” He affirms, already putting the money on the counter for her. He couldn’t offer much, but he always tipped her the change. It was a routine for them at the moment.
“Busy day today?” MJ asks him as she starts making his coffee. Peter glances into the coffeeshop, glad to see that his usual spot was still free. “You’re usually earlier,” She adds absently, pressing the button on the coffee maker. Peter glances at her with a frown, not because she was wrong, but because she was right.
He was usually here earlier. His place didn't have good wifi, or not one he could afford anyways, so that left him having to work at this spot if he wanted to get anything done. He usually got up much earlier to be here.
“I’m not obsessed, just-”
“Very observant,” Peter finishes, and MJ stills at that, nodding. Peter stays silent for a moment, before chuckling. “It was a late night, I just woke up,” He continues. MJ raises an eyebrow.
“Date?” She asks, and Peter knows she has no idea how much that hurts. Because no matter how hard he tried… he couldn’t get over her.
“No, nothing like that,” He shakes his head, and MJ puts the lid on his cup, sliding it over the counter. Peter reaches out, suppressing a wince as his fingers brushed against MJ. He can’t believe how long it has been…. almost six months since she had last hugged him, since anyone had just hugged him.
The last memory, forever tainted by the knowledge that nobody remembered him anymore.
“Thanks,” Peter murmurs, pushing aside the gaping hole in his heart. MJ smiles kindly at him, the same customer’s smile.
“That’s my job,” She says, right. Peter nods, taking his cup from the counter and walking over to his spot. Right… it shouldn’t hurt that much, but he was just a customer for her. Not a lover, not a best friend, not one of the only people Peter still had left in his world, and yet, all gone to him.
Because MJ didn’t remember anymore, nobody did.
Peter shudders, clutching the coffee in his hands for a moment before reluctantly grabbing his laptop and opening it. They had remodelled the shop some time in April, allowing for more spots so it was easier to come here and find a place to work. Peter accepted the chance with open arms.
His spot in the corner wasn’t the best one, but for him it was perfect. He could see the entire shop from there, and it gave him a perfect view of the table Ned and MJ always occupied.
He sighs, focusing on the screen again. He was barely scraping by as it was, so he needed all the money he could get. So he worked as many odd jobs as he could, mostly as a freelancer since he technically didn’t even exist. Most places didn’t care about that, as long as he provided the work.
Time passes quickly as he continues working, soothed by the voice of MJ as she helped her customers. Time was a curious thing to Peter, because it moved slowly yet so quickly. He just became numb to it. Every day was waking up with the same loneliness.
Not even the Daily Bugle would hire him full-time, so the only contact he had with people from there was when he came in to sell more photos from Spider-Man again. Nobody needed to know how he got those pictures, and he hoped nobody would draw the connection about him.
It was lonely, but he needed the money more.
“I dropped it,” A voice startles Peter, and he looks up with wide eyes. MJ was staring at him with a calm and collected expression, but Peter could see her nerves, he could see right through her.
“What?” He asks, and MJ gestures to the donut in her hand, that she was offering him.
“I dropped it on the ground, I can’t sell it anymore,” She tells him, and Peter needs a few seconds for his brain to realise what MJ had done, and he slowly takes the donut.
“Thank you,” He whispers, and MJ shrugs before walking back to the counter as if nothing happened. As if she hadn’t just lied about dropping the donut so she could give it to him.
“Why did you do that?” He hears Ned ask softly, too softly for any normal person to hear. Peter jolts slightly, barely keeping himself from snapping his head up. He hadn’t even heard Ned enter the coffeeshop. He glances down at the donut, only now realising how much his stomach was rumbling.
He takes a grateful bite, ignoring how his stomach churns as he does. It had been awhile since he noticed he was actually hungry, but logically he knew that he had never stopped getting hungry, his brain probably just realised how pointless it was to point it out at this point, he wasn’t going to get enough anyways.
It would also explain why his injuries healed so much less, his body couldn’t keep up with his lack of food and the injuries he acquired. He could probably ask To-
Peter drops the donut at the thought, stomach threatening to expel the food he had just eaten. His ears were ringing, and he could barely hear MJ’s voice.
“.... looks sad,” She says, and Peter tries to cling to the sound, his last lifeline. But he didn’t want her pity, he wanted her… he needed her to remember him. He didn’t want this… he wanted his MJ, the girl he could hold and call his. He wanted his best friend… he wanted to feel safe, loved.
His heart squeezed, and he pushed down the tears threatening to escape. His vision started to blur against his will, and he knew he couldn’t stay here anymore.
So against his own routine, he grabs his laptop and shoves it into his bag and he quickly walks out of the shop, donut half eaten and forgotten. MJ would’ve slapped him for that if she still remembered.
But then again, that was the entire problem; she didn’t remember him, nobody did.
*
*
*
He knew he was being stupid, and that he would regret this decision in the morning. But there was only so much time that he could spend as Peter Parker before he couldn’t handle it anymore. It was like the moment he put on the mask that he became an entirely different person; Spider-man.
He wasn’t Peter Parker, he wasn’t defined by his loneliness. Twice an orphan… no friends, no family… So what if he let go, let himself fall and didn’t catch him? Who would be there to miss him? For the first time Peter was completely alone, literally no one that would miss him right now.
Peter sighs, ending his swing and landing on a rooftop and stopping for a moment. He knew he would regret it tomorrow, but he had met half of the rent he still needed to scrape by… he just couldn’t take it.
He glances down at the streets below him, swallowing thickly at the height. Surely it would kill him, and nobody would care. Ned wouldn’t be there to mourn him, MJ wouldn’t be losing her boyfriend… and May, he could finally be with her. He would finally be with Ben again, with his parents.
“Stop him!” Someone cries below, and Peter snaps out of his thoughts. His eyes narrow in on the street below where someone cries out.
“Oh you’re in trouble now,” Peter muttered, toppling forwards and letting himself fall off the building. Wind whipped around him (it would be so easy to just not fire his web shooters…), and he extended his arm to shoot his webs. “Heads up buddy!” He cries out, snatching the running man off the streets.
“Gaah!” The man cries in surprise, and Peter throws him upwards, shooting another web and quickly attaching it to the building so the man was left dangling from it. His feet were barely dangling above the pavement, and Peter attaches to a pole, glancing at the mugger who was carrying two bags of cash.
“And I meant that literally buddy, heads up, get it?” Peter grins, eyes narrowing as two police agents came running, clearly out of breath. “Now be a good boy and give the cash back to the nice people, okay?” Peter says, but before the mugger can even answer, Peter already snatched the bags out of his arms.
He can see one of the police with a hand on her gun, ready to shoot if necessary. Peter cocks his head slightly. The situation after Doctor Strange’s spell was still very tense. Yes, nobody knew who Peter Parker was, and nobody knew that Peter Parker was Spiderman anymore, his identity was safe.
But there was still the problem of Mysterio being killed, and it seemingly being his fault. At least there was no active arrest warrant out there for him, but many weren’t convinced he wasn’t a dangerous murderer. Naturally, some of those people were part of the police, and he knew things could get ugly soon.
Sirens were pulling up in the vicinity, and Peter glances up at the sound. “Well that’s my cue to leave,” Peter grins behind the mask, throwing the bags of cash towards the agents so it landed in front of their feet. Peter jumps off the pole. “This was fun! We should talk again soon!” He shouts, swinging away.
He quickly makes his way to higher ground again, swinging through the streets and allowing himself to revel in the busy streets below.
Even if it was still day time there was so much going on in the streets below him, so much crime to stop already. He swings over to the next building, landing on the edge and straightening up again. And he just had a few moments of peace before he heard another person scream for help, and he’s gone again.
It’s hours later when he lands back on the familiar rooftop again, panting slightly and body aching. He might just call it an early night tonight, but there was one more thing that he needed to do.
“See you next week,” A voice says, and Peter can hear a door close. Peter glances down, swallowing again as he sees MJ wave at her co-worker. It was already dark outside, and way too late for MJ to be walking home alone, but it wasn’t like he had any ability to stop her from doing so.
And no way to walk her home like he would want, so following her as Spider-Man was the next best option. He allows himself to drop from the building again, shooting out a building to get him to the next and keeping his eyes out on the girl below. MJ walked confidently, hands stuffed in her pockets.
Peter silently follows her through the neighbourhood, following an all too familiar route he had travelled many times before since last summer. Had it already been a year since he had held MJ as they swung through New York? It seemed like a million years had passed since, as if he had aged a lifetime in just a little over 12 months.
He had everything; and now he had no one.
Peter feels his heart squeeze painfully, but he ignores it, pushing it away as MJ rounds a corner. He leaps over the rooftop, gracefully landing on the next until she is visible again. MJ seems to glance back for a moment, not even remotely in his direction, but scanning her surroundings.
She was so close, and yet so far away. He couldn’t even come close to her, not physically but… but his MJ would forever be gone.
Sirens could be heard, and Peter feels his spider tingle flare up. He snaps his head to the sound, eyes narrowing. The sirens grew louder and louder, meaning they were coming this way. Peter rises, climbing to the corner of the building to get a better view of the situation below him right now.
Three cars were heading their way at incredible speed, two cop cars and one larger van. Peter glances at MJ one last time before groaning and letting himself drop down. There were bigger things than him, responsibilities that he had to attend to as Spider-Man, his city to protect.. all alone.
He shoots a web, pulling himself forwards and dropping down on top of the van with precision. He clings to the top of the car, glancing back to see one of the cop cars crash into the corner. Peter winces, and he hears laughter coming from the van.
“One down, one to go,” One of the people in the vans laughed, a man. Peter crawls to the side, sticking to the side of the car and smashing the window.
“Uno reverse card!” He yells, shooting a web at the man in the passenger seat before he can draw his weapons. “Woah, careful where you swing that thing!” Peter cries out as the driver quickly pulls out a gun.
“Spider-Man!” The guy in the passenger side growls, twisting in his bonds and trying to kick him at the same time the driver starts to fire. Peter grits his teeth, dodging both the bullets and the kick, and shooting out another web.
“Hey buddy, why don’t you stop the car and we can talk about this like adults?” Peter tries, attaching the webs to the gun and ripping it out of his hands. “Yoink, that’s mine-” He grins, crushing the gun between his hands and dropping it onto the street.
“Stupid insect-” The driver curses, reaching for something.
“Actually, spiders a-” He can’t finish the sentence, because the next moment he knows he’s flying backwards. He cries out in surprise, pain ricocheting through his entire body and he lands on the streets harshly. He gasps, hearing civilians around him, but all he can focus on was the van.
“What the fuck was that?” He gasps, grinding his teeth and lifting his arm. He can barely contain a gasp of pain as he’s pulled upwards by his own web. What the fuck was that? That wasn’t a human weapon, that was for sure, a human weapon wouldn’t be able to cause so much damage so quickly.
Peter grits his teeth, pushing the pain down and following the van. The second cop car was already long gone, but instead three new motor cycles has joined in pursuit, and Peter could hear another set of sirens further away. Peter shoots out another web, pulling himself forwards and not taking his eyes off the van.
He can see the two people in the van moving again, somehow they had managed to cut through his webbing. One of the agents was now driving next to the van on the passenger’s side, missing the door Spider-Man had just been attached to.
“Look out!” Peter shouts, but of course it’s futile and he can just see the goon pull back his arm and send a blast of some sorts shooting towards the agent. The blast hits the agent, and he’s sent flying. Peter dives forwards, shooting a web and pulling the agent towards himself in a second.
He twists in the air, throwing the agent and attaching a web to him and allowing him to be caught by the webbing.
“Sorry!” Peter shouts back, but he knows his priority was catching the van right now. So without hesitation he swings forwards again, catching his web. He propels forwards, landing on the van again with a loud thud. He groans, his body still screaming in pain, why was it hurting so much?
“Shit-” One of the men curse, and his tingle screams at him to move. He jumps without thinking, and just seconds later the roof of the van shoots up. Metal groans as it’s torn, and debris flies in every direction. Pain flares up in Peter’s leg and abdomen, but he ignores it. He catches himself, swinging away from the van before coming back.
“You idiot, our boss will have our heads fo-” One of them hisses, but Peter is already flying towards the van with incredible speed and accuracy. He sees the man in the passenger side widen his eyes.
“Duck!” Peter yells, shooting a web at the driver, and it hits his left arm, trapping it to the window. Peter lands on the side again, blocking a hit from the passenger. “And I don’t mean the animal, I mean you have to-” He rambles, but then he sees what caused his pain the last time, because the weapon in the driver’s hands was glowing.
Peter feels his eyes widen, and he can barely jump out of the way, and avoid getting a direct hit to the chest of the glowing weapon. His mind immediately flashes back to years ago, before the blip, before space… before he lost… Peter cries out, losing his balance and scrambling to hold on.
He quickly climbs across the van, getting to higher ground on top of the van. How did they get those weapons? He thought they had all been confiscated when Toomes went to prison, but clearly not. Peter swallows, feeling his tingle flair up, and he ducks, not the animal, to avoid the blast.
“Woah!” He cries out, whirling around to see the man standing there with a familiar glove around his hand. “Where did you get that?” He asks, jumping up. The man just glares at him, clearly not in the mood for jokes, so be it. Peter hides a wince as the man moves, and he’s forced to react.
The man charges at him, and Peter sidesteps quickly, barely able to dodge another hit from the man.
“Hey buddy, got the receipts for that glove by any chance?” Peter asks loudly, crying out as the van swerves. The man grunts, barely able to stay on the van before he charges again. Peter grits his teeth, jumping again and shooting a web. He twists in the air, dodging another hit and attaching his web to the glove.
“I’ll take that back!” Peter yells, yanking the glove off the man and catching it. The glove hums in his grip, filled with energy. Peter glances back at the man, who immediately draws a gun. “Really?” Peter quips, shooting another web at the man and yanking the gun away. He quickly crumbles it, throwing it off the road.
“Have a nice trip buddy, this is your stop,” Peter adds, and the goon seems confused for a moment before Peter jumps at the man. He attaches multiple webs to the man, restraining him before throwing him off the van, and attaching him to the nearest light pole so he wouldn’t die.
The man screams loudly in fear. “Don’t forget to rate me five stars!” Peter shouts after him, turning to the side to see more cops show up to join the chase, perfect, he needed to end this quickly before more got hurt. He crawls over to the passenger side again, and he’s immediately met with another gun to his face.
“How many guns do you guys have?” Peter groans, dodging the bullet and reaching in to swiftly grab the gun from the man and hitting him in the face. The man cries out and- “Woah!” Peter yells, the van swerving to the left. Peter shoots out a web, yanking the steering wheel to straighten the van again.
“Hey time to hit the brakes,” Peter grits his teeth, and the man glances at him with a glare. Then before he can react, the man grabs something from his pocket before throwing it out of the window on the driver’s side, and onto the sidewalk. “Oh god-” Peter exclaims, jumping up to see something glowing.
He throws out his webs, but he misses. He lands on top of the van, and he jumps on instinct, seeing the ball roll towards two civilians. He shoots himself forwards, diving towards the two civilians and pushing them out of the way. The bomb explodes behind him, and he feels the fire lick at his feet and he groans.
He lands harshly on the ground, tumbling and losing his grip on the two civilians. He groans again, pain flaring up and he coughs.
“Spider-Man?” Someone asks, and he glances up quickly.
“Are you two alright?” He asks, voice rough, but the two civilians were looking at him with grateful expressions.
“Thanks to you,” One of them nods, and Peter sighs out a relief, before he hears more explosions from the streets.
“Go get checked out at the hospital, and be safe!” He yells, jumping up and ignoring the pain in his entire body. He spots the fallen glove quickly, webbing it towards himself before swinging away; he had a van to catch.
*
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*
It’s hours later when he climbs back into his apartment, sweating, and shaking with pain and hunger. The van had gotten away, lost after a long chase. Peter could hit himself, how do you lose a van? You forget to che- He rips off his mask with a frustrated groan, throwing it in the corner of the room where the glowing glove lay and falling on top of his bed, panting harshly.
Every part of his body seemed to scream at him in pain, and he winces as he tries to sit up slowly.
“Nope-” He groans, letting himself fall back on the bed and squeezing his eyes shut. The months after May had found out his secret had been eventful…, after a lot of screaming of course, and a lot of swearing that she at first tried to hide from him but eventually failed miserably. Peter had learned a lot of new curse words those few months.
But after all of that they learned how to navigate their new roles, the new responsibilities. May slowly came to the conclusion that she could not prevent Peter from going out as Spider-Man, he was too stubborn for that. He had the powers to stop the bad things from happening; so it would be on him if they did happen.
Peter’s head spun slightly, and he reaches up, feeling his fingers come back sticky with blood. That should concern him, and yet he continued to drift.
She had set up boundaries for him, a curfew. A superhero with a curfew, he had scoffed at that back then. He didn’t argue, knowing that his aunt was just worried about him.
“Peter honey-” May whispers softly, and Peter tries to open his eyes. Pain was dulling, and he felt two hands on either side of his face. “I need you to open your eyes baby, let me see those Bambi eyes.” May asks him, and Peter groans in embarrassment.
“D’nt call ‘m that,” He murmurs, wanting to reach up.
“You’re hurt-” May continues, and Peter’s heart squeezes and he feels tears well up in his eyes.
“You’re dead,” He whispers, blinking his eyes open. His vision was blurry, and he could barely make out May’s face in front of him, like he remembered. Her soft eyes were looking at him with concern. She tilts her head slightly, reaching up and tugging her fingers through his hair.
Peter stares numbly at her face, not wanting to give into the feeling. Her fingers were soft, just like he remembered. Tears started leaking from his face, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
“Ssshhh, I’m right here,” May shushes him softly, and Peter can’t help himself. He slowly cracks his eyes open, just barely enough to see her, but it was all he could manage. He burst into sobs the moment he finally manages to look at her again… but he can’t.
“May?” He stammers, wanting to get up but he can’t. “May?!” He cries, but he can’t, he can’t see her anymore. The apartment was empty, and he can’t… He can’t see her. Tears start to drip down his cheeks again, and he sobs, curling up. She was gone, she was gone, he couldn’t see her.
It felt cold, oh so cold around him. The touches left a cold feeling, the touches that were never there because she was gone. His fault, it was his fault she was dead. She would never touch him like that, never comfort him, never run her fingers through his hair again because she knew it calmed him down.
Peter brings up a shaky hand up to his hair, trying to mimic her touches, but he only cries harder. “C’me back, May, please,” He murmurs feverously, crying. She was never coming back, she was gone. Blood was dripping down her body, eyes staring up at him, cold, distant; dead.
May… May…
And Peter sobs, knowing there was no person in the world left for him. Nobody there to comfort him, nobody to hold him. He could never go back to that. May was gone, she was gone…. he had no way home. MJ and Ned forgot, he had no one anymore, they had their lives but not with him.
He was alone, May was dead; and she was never coming back.
Peter cried himself to sleep.