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The Final Battle, as Peter chose to call it, felt nothing more than a fever dream.
He could remember the dusting far too well, as it always gave him nightmares. The itchy feeling he was fading away. The need to stay in the bath multiple times a day, for hours, and rub his skin with a sponge to the point it got painfully red, only to feel like himself again, clean, before being dusted and dirty.
That feeling of paradise he felt afterwards never stayed for too long.
Aside from those dreams, everything felt vivid. Like the battle was a far memory, something from childhood maybe, or lived in third person.
No matter what it was, it wasn’t right. It never felt right. Nothing after it felt in place.
Slowly, Peter managed to get as close as he could be, back to his old self, but it wasn’t the same. His friend and girlfriend were there for him, so he didn’t miss much on school. They got dusted as well, his whole class got, so he was able to at easy keep that one thing as it used to be. May was there for him as well. She didn’t get dusted and in those 5 years she managed to get a better spot at her workplace that paid much better. When he got back, he could actually eat enough.
He still had the credit card Tony left him to buy himself extra meals, but it felt wrong using it after he passed. He still couldn’t believe he was gone. He saw him everywhere, whether that was in ads or just hallucinations, he was there. Pepper tried to comfort him and invited him a few times at their lake house, he grew close to Morgan as she adored the boy as an older brother, but she reminded him too much of Tony and stopped going. After a while, Pepper stopped contacting too, as it was hard enough to maintain a successful company as a CEO and be a widow mother.
Then, the fight with Mysterio happened, and with its end, The New Finale made its appearance.
His identity as Spider-Man was revealed world-wide. He was no longer a normal teenager.
When Stranger’s spell went sideways, everything took a turn for the worst, as of it wasn’t bad enough before.
By the time it was “fixed”, everything was already in ruins. His aunt paid the price.
Not only that, but he also had to pay for his recklessness by erasing himself from everyone’s memory.
Just how cruel was that?
He didn’t have the best life before, but it was still one he loved dearly, with every up and down.
But after The Finale? That was too much. Everything he’s done, no one was there to remember. He was going to die alone, and his legacy was done for. No one to pass down his stories.
He tried to live on. For Ben. For May. For Tony. For Ned and MJ.
A human can only carry so much with him.
He managed to find a sloppy apartment from a landlord that didn’t do much of a background check, but he knew he couldn’t go back to school. Jobs weren’t easy to find without id, and when he could they would pay him less, knowing he couldn’t complain if he wanted to keep working there.
He used to have a planned bright future, and in a snap (no put intended), it all went down the drain.
He would still go to the cafe MJ worked in, and he would sit at a table across her and Ned, watch them talk and try to recall all the memories they had together. Some were slowly fading. Just like his will to keep going. Each time he went there, he felt happiness, which turned to sorrow by the time he got home, and all that was left was for him to drink the pain away and swallow enhanced sleeping pills or enough simple ones, and hope they work. None were healthy, nor cheap, but it was keeping him from losing his remaining sanity, and let him have a better sleep. No dreaming was better than nightmares. Maybe it wasn’t as resting but it was better than fearing bedtime.
Until he couldn’t do it anymore.
He just couldn’t.
There was nothing to live for. He couldn’t make friends. He isolated himself from everyone and everything.
What was the point in living a life in a simulation, somewhere where he didn’t belong, forced to do something he disliked probably for the rest of his life.?
He was done.
MJ, on the other side, wasn’t.
She saw how quickly the mysterious individual became a regular. How he would always order her favourite drink and sit in the corner. How he would look at her and Ned talk. He didn’t look creepy. No. He looked sentimental.
She had the urge to go over to him and bring him in, but she knew it would be too weird. But would it be wrong? Maybe, someday, she would. If only she had the time and courage.
One night, she saw him come in with a bruce on his face. She was worried. Why was she worried for a stranger? She didn’t know. She just knew her feelings, not their reasons.
That night she decided to follow him, and she unwillingly found out where he lived. She wasn’t a stalker. No. She was just worried and wanted to make sure he was safe. Yeah. That wasn’t weird. Completely normal. Nothing illegal done there.. yeah.
She decided the next time he would come to the cafe, she would tell him what she felt.
Only that time never came. He stopped coming for the week. He never skipped that long.
Her heart acted once again as she went to his place and knocked on.
One time.
.
.
Silent.
.
.
Two times.
.
.
Nothing.
.
.
Three times.
.
.
No sound.
.
.
She thought he could just be away from home, and decided to leave the building. When she was out( she looked at his window one more time before seeing the light turned on.
She should’ve trusted her gut the first time.
What if she was too late?
Wait. What?
Too late for what?
God no.
Why was she thinking like that?
Maybe he was just asleep and couldn’t answer on time.
Nonetheless, she rushed to his apartment door and knocked again, this time more forcefully.
Soon, the landlord came, as he had complains about “a lady acting historically” on that floor.
She asked the man for a spare key, saying the guy living in was in danger, and the owner just shrugged and looked at his necklace with keys, slowly talking it off and going key by key.
Time felt slowed down. No. It was moving fast. Too fast. They didn’t have time for that. She couldn’t lose her composure.
Fuck that.
She snatched the keys and looked at them, seeing as all had numbers on.
.
.
Gotcha.
She found it and unlocked the door. In the living room, no one, only a turned TV. Kitchen, nothing. The bedroom? Empty. Everything was in place, at least it seemed like it. But the boy was gone.
Then she saw the light in the bathroom. There, MJ found the boy unmoving, with an empty bottle of pills besides him and a plastic bag on his head.
She removed it quickly and pressed her head on his chest.
.
.
.
A heartbeat.
Faint, but it was there.
MJ did it. She saved him.
She swore she would tell him how she feels about him once he wakes up.
She couldn’t afford losing any more time.