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In another universe, Peter gives in to temptation and runs away. In another universe, he’s brave enough to defy May. In another universe, Peter Parker leaves a note in his locker and takes to the streets. But this isn’t that universe.
Peter leaves school right before the other kids get out of the demonstration, grateful to the supervisor for letting him avoid the rush of students. Usually the halls fill up to the point that he can barely move in any direction. Now the hallways are blissfully deserted as he exits the double doors. He types in the address to Home Depot on his phone to pick up the boxes he promised May he would get, and follows the public transport instructions on google maps.
Shopping in Home Depot always feels like you’ve entered an alternate universe. Something about the infinitely high ceilings and horrible fluorescent lighting makes it feel like he’s not quite in the same dimension. Contributing more to the fact is the surreal knowledge that May is trying to take him away. Even if she wasn’t the one to kidnap him like his memories claim, she must know. Peter quietly giggles to himself in the packing supplies aisle, drawing looks from the older couple buying tape. It’s just so absurd to him. He’s the kidnapped son of a superhero and a billionaire CEO, and he’s buying moving boxes so someone complicit in his kidnapping can take him over state lines. The FBI is probably closing in, and here he is in Home Depot debating if it’s worth it to get the reinforced boxes. He does choose the reinforced boxes. And adds a slimjim to his purchase when he gets to the register. He’s using May’s credit card, and after all the nightmares she caused him she can pay a little more.
Getting the large pile of moving boxes back to the apartment while only taking public transportation is hard work. He gets no less than 20 glares when he tries to shuffle past people and accidentally bumps them with the boxes. The people on the bus that takes him close enough to where he can walk the rest of the way home look at him like he’s insane when he starts giggling again. The absurdity of the situation just gets to him. He knows someone kidnapped him, and he’s helping her take him halfway across the country. The fact that it’s Texas just makes everything worse.
When he finally opens the door to the apartment, he’s met with a frantic May, who seems incredibly relieved to see him. “Peter! Oh thank god. I was worried you weren’t coming. Usually you’re home by now.” She rushes towards him and pulls him into a tight hug.
“You asked me to get boxes, remember? I had to go all the way to Home Depot.” She lets him go and nods.
“Right. Right, I asked you to get boxes. Just put them down in the kitchen, okay? I meant to tell you not to bother.” That surprises Peter. He carries the boxes to the kitchen, a little miffed that she made him go through all of the effort of lugging them home only to change her mind.
“Oh are we not moving anymore?” He hopes that’s what is going on. Maybe things don’t have to change, and they can all pretend he isn’t Matthew Stark.
“We are moving. I just got a call that they want me to start tomorrow afternoon, so we need to leave tonight instead. I’ll get a moving company to take care of the furniture. There’s a duffel bag on your bed. Fill it with your clothes and anything else you’ll need until we can get our stuff shipped.” His heart sinks. They’re still moving. And Peter can tell that they won’t actually be getting their stuff shipped. He can only keep as much as he can fit in the duffel.
What matters most is already in his backpack, but he still needs to be methodical about what he packs. Just his favorite shirts and his jeans go into the bag. Then he adds his collection of Avengers action figures, hidden underneath a jacket. A couple of his favorite books are tucked away between his jeans, and he tops it off with his laptop and a few framed photos. The duffel is heavier than most kids his age would be able to carry, but it’s as light as a feather to him. By 5:30, he and May leave their apartment for the final time, and he glances back at the rooms he grew up in. Ben used to sit at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice every morning. May watched Bill Nye with him on the couch in the living room. He spent hours playing with legos with Ned and Harry on the floor in front of the TV. May interrupts his reminiscing by pulling him with her as they walk away from the place he grew up in from ages 5-13.
The take the subway to a Greyhound station, where May has him sit in the waiting area while she goes up to the counter to buy tickets. Peter scrolls on his phone as he waits for her to return. His spidey-sense starts to buzz about impending danger, but he can’t see anything in the vicinity. There’s an older couple in the corner. The woman is knitting and the man is reading the newspaper. No danger there. A businessman is pacing while speaking on his phone. He seems angry about his stocks portfolio, but nothing Peter hasn’t seen before. The man is upset but not dangerous. The only other people in the area are the woman behind the ticket counter and a college student with her nose buried in a textbook on color theory. There’s no reason for his spidey-sense to be going off. Peter figures it must be going haywire. It sometimes does that when he doesn’t get enough sleep or he’s stressed.
May comes back and hands Peter the tickets she purchased ‘for safe keeping’. He studies them. The bus is taking him and May as far as Kentucky. From there they’ll probably need to get on a different bus. Unless, of course, they’re no longer going to Texas. She probably doesn’t actually have a job lined up so it doesn’t really matter where they go. May’s phone buzzes, and she shifts away from Peter to look at the text message. Peter takes the opportunity to check the time on his own phone. 7:05 PM.
Whatever was in the text message must have bothered May, because she instantly stand up and walks off with a quick “don’t go anywhere’ to Peter. He’s getting antsy at this point. His spidey sense hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse. He tries to distract himself by rereading one of the books he brought, but it’s hard to concentrate when the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up.
After almost thirty minutes of being unable to finish a single paragraph, May returns. She hands him a pepsi. Peter mutters a quick “thank you,” and takes a sip. He was getting pretty thirsty. When May speaks it’s quiet.
“Peter, you know I love you, right?” Peter is shocked. Of course he knows that. After everything May has done for him, it’s impossible to even conceive of the idea that she doesn’t love him.
“Of course I do. And I love you too, May.”
“I wasn’t being fully honest with you, Peter. We’re not leaving because I got a job somewhere. There’s someone who wants to take you away from me.” The pepsi tastes bitter on Peter’s tongue. Why is she telling him this?
“I won’t let anyone take me away. We’re going to be fine, don’t worry.”
“Nobody could ever love you more than I do. Peter, you’re everything to me. You’re my whole life. Raising you has been such an honor.” It’s like May is saying goodbye. Is she leaving him behind? Peter’s mouth feels dry, and he takes another sip of pepsi to counteract that.
“Is everything okay, May?”
“I can’t let you live with someone who won’t truly love you. Sometimes being a parent means making difficult decisions. I love you, Peter. That’s why I’m doing this.” Doing what? Then Peter realizes he really isn’t feeling well. His head is killing him, and just holding the pepsi bottle is taxing. His hand shakes as he lets it go, too weak to keep it. The other people in the waiting room turn to look at the sound of his drink spilling. Tears are streaming down May’s cheeks and she pulls Peter over to lean against her. He feels her hand rubbing circles against his back, but he’s distracted by the tight feeling in his chest.
“You’re okay. It’ll be over soon.” His world is spinning. Why is it spinning? The waiting room is just a blur. There’s a sound nearby, almost like a jet engine. But quieter. And too close to be a jet. What is it? Peter can’t breathe. His chest is burning. Each breath is a herculean task, and he can barely manage to do it. The hand on his back feels malicious instead of comforting. His skin is crawling. She did this to him. May poisoned him. There’s a crash of metal, but Peter isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s just trying to breathe. The hand on his back is ripped away, and Peter feels thankful. Instead, a calloused hand caresses his face.
“Hey, hey kiddo, you need to stay with me. Keep breathing. Friday, what do I do?” The warmth of the hand is grounding, but blackness is creeping in on the edges of his vision. Somewhere in the background May is yelling that he’s better off dead. A slightly robotic female voice speaks up.
“He’s showing signs of cyanide poisoning. EMTs have been alerted and are 3 minutes away. Opening up storage compartment 37. Break the capsule into a handkerchief and have him breath it in for 15 second intervals with equal length rests until EMTs arrive.” There’s a snap sound then a cloth is loosely pressed over Peter’s mouth. He struggles to breathe through it.
“Deep breaths, buddy. Just… just stay with me, okay?” The man’s voice cracks, and that’s weird. May said she’s the only one who really loves him. “Come on, just a few more seconds. Then you can take a quick break.” The hand on his cheek is comforting, and Peter tries to focus on that instead of the tight feeling in his chest. There’s something familiar about the voice, but he can’t place it. The cloth is removed from his mouth, but Peter’s breathing just quickens. It feels like he isn’t getting enough oxygen.
“I don’t… I don’t wanna… die. Please,” Peter begs. He doesn’t see the man’s face crumple or his eyes fill with tears. He does hear the voice of a man close to breaking down.
“You’re not going to die. I won’t let you. Just keep breathing. You’ll be fine.” The fabric is placed back on his face. Peter is barely clinging onto consciousness. The man continues to speak, but Peter can’t distinguish the words anymore. They’re still comforting, reminding him that someone is there. The cloth is removed and replaced, but the voice remains. It keeps him awake.
Sirens get closer, and suddenly the voice is drowned out by so many more. Yelling and footsteps. There’s too much to focus on, so he doesn’t. Peter lets himself slip into unconsciousness.