Work Text:
The hurt you felt as your dad called you from the hospital, telling you your grandmother had passed was like nothing you’d felt before. Your mom held you as you cried, inconsolable. You barely registered your dad explaining he had to stay in Georgia with your grandfather for some time. You were aware of your still mom talking on the phone, but you couldn’t focus on what she was saying. Eventually she got off the phone, and the two of you stayed in the living room for some time. Your crying eventually turned into sniffling between hiccups. You only went to bed when your mom pointed out how late it had gotten, asking her to tuck you in like she did when you were little. Exhausted, you fell asleep quickly. That had been a week ago. Your mom had called the school and explained everything, your teachers quickly agreeing to email you the work and notes you’d be missing.
You’d stayed in your room for most of the week. Occasionally you’d go downstairs to the kitchen to eat with your mom. You’d not felt hungry, but always managed a few bites for her sake. You’d soon find yourself back in your room, sitting on your bed. You managed to do the work your teachers sent, and emailed it back. Other than that, you just stared blankly at the ceiling. You’d quickly stopped responding whenever your mom would gently knock on the door. She’d open it to check on you, then close it again on her way out. Your phone had died at the start of the week, and you couldn’t find a reason to charge it again. You were devastated by the loss of your grandmother, and didn’t know how to handle the feelings that her death caused.
There was the usual quiet knock before you heard the door handle turn. You didn’t bother looking up, knowing your mom would wait a few moments before closing the door again. The quiet click of your door closing was expected, but the footsteps walking across your room weren’t. The bed next to you dipped down, and Peter’s face came into view. He looked down at you, while you watched his eyes moving along your face.
“I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,” Peter gently said. “I know how close you two were and how hard it can be to lose someone like that.”
His soft tone and genuine words were quick to have tears welling in your eyes again. You didn’t understand how you still managed to make tears, throat tightening again as they fell. Not bothering to wipe them away, you turned on your side to face where Peter sat. You reached a hand out and grabbed his from where it rested on the bed. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for needing him right now, knowing how much his uncle’s death still affected him, but you also knew he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be.
“I miss her so much,” you wobbly admitted.
“I know sweetheart. It’s hard,” Peter consoled you. “But you need to remember how much she loved you.”
You nodded, knowing he was right.
“Would it be okay if I held you?” Peter stroked the back of your hand that was still holding his.
“Please,” you whimpered.
Watching as he laid down, you scooted over to give him room. Once he was next to you, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. He carefully guided your face to rest on his chest, pressing his lips against the top of your head.
“I don’t know what to do,” you cried into him.
“That’s okay,” he promised. “Some days I don’t know what to do either. It eventually gets easier, but it’s never the same. And there will occasionally be days that are really hard, and you feel the hurt all over again, but that’s okay. It just shows how much she means to you and that you love her. Just because she’s gone doesn’t mean she stops being loved.”
“Thank you.”
Peter hugs you a little tighter, “I like to think that Uncle Ben is keeping her company, watching over us,” he quietly admits.
You smiled at the thought, feeling a hair of the hurt in your chest soothed. You remembered how you’d told Peter something similar a year ago. How you were sure Uncle Ben would always be looking out for Peter, waiting with his parents. Peter’s grief had been a lot more angry where your’s was much more numb. Peter had lashed out at everyone, yet here you were isolating yourself from your family.
“I know it doesn’t feel the same, but I understand what you’re going through,” Peter explains. “I also know that your parents are going through this too, and they’re worried about you. I’m worried about you. I couldn’t reach you at all, so I called your mom. She explained everything, and how she doesn’t know what to do to help.”
You deflated at his words.
You felt Peter shake his head, “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean, we want to help you. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling when I lost Uncle Ben. I worried Aunt May so much then, and I regret how harshly I pushed her away. I don’t want you to feel like that once things start to get easier.”
You nodded, understanding his words. You held up your pinky, and he quickly linked his own pinky with yours.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I can stay here tonight if you want, I’m sure your mom will let me. How does that sound?”
“Nice,” you mumble.
“Great. Now, let’s go downstairs and ask her.”
“I love you,” you kissed him before standing up.
“I love you, don’t ever forget that, okay?” Peter held your hand as you nodded.
With that, you started your long journey to handling the loss of your grandmother. It didn’t seem so daunting with the support of your family and Peter by your side.