Chapter Text
The rain.
Something that Peter once loved but now was his main source of discomfort. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was also shivering with cold air seeping into his moist clothes. He had managed to find a small shelter under the awning of a deserted corner store, but he wasn’t fast enough in doing that.
He wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to retain what was left of his body heat.
While he knew this much wouldn’t cause hypothermia, it didn’t make the situation any better. He had nowhere warm to go, no one waiting for him. The apartment that always smelled like cinnamon, the gentle smile of his Aunt were nothing but a fleeting memory in the back of his mind. He had tried too hard to get over his once carefree life, so like he always did in these cold rainy days, he repressed the memories once more.
People were running around in the rain, some with umbrellas and some without. They all had somewhere to get to, someone’s arms to seek refuge in. Peter bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling from the harsh weather.
Was he jealous of those people?
No, no way.
Maybe?
Taking a break from biting his lower lip, he took a deep breath as an all too familiar feeling crept into his heart. His eyes burned, though he didn’t let the tears gather. Some people gave him a pitying look as they passed him by, it was something he had gotten used to.
They pitied but did nothing. Peter wasn’t expecting them to do something anyway, he didn’t deserve it after killing everyone he loved solely because of his curse. He gazed at the wet ground, his eyes unfocused, he thought about the loved ones he caused to die.
His parents, Uncle Ben, Aunt May, all the people Mysterio got killed simply because Peter couldn’t be responsible enough, and...and Tony Stark. His mentor, the man who once gave him everything and then devastated him.
He remembered Pepper talking to him after the funeral, telling him how just a single photo of Peter standing side by side with him had led him to save the entire world with a single snap of his fingers. The ghost smell of charred flesh reached his nose.
If that wasn’t a curse, what was it?
For all that reason, though homeless with plenty of other homeless people to befriend, he had chosen to remain adamant about his solitude. It sometimes hurt, well, maybe it always hurt but who cared? Definitely not him, he wouldn’t risk another person dying merely due to his wicked curse.
He shut his eyelids tight enough to see the dancing colors swimming on the black background of nothingness and breathed in the cold, crisp air through his nose only to let it out slowly. He did it a few more times, feeling himself getting calmer with every breath he let out.
His ears picked up a commotion, the thrum of the city around him rose up to a more noticeable level. He heard people whispering with what seemed like a surprise or shock.
Slowly opening his eyes, he took a glance around to see the source of this commotion. He saw men and women just standing still, looking up at one of the gigantic digital billboards while the red on the screen washed over them through the rain.
Curiosity took hold of him, he raised his head from the ground to the billboard to see the root of the new shift in the atmosphere.
A gasp escaped him when his eyes met with the LED screen, his mouth hung open with complete disbelief. He was supposed to take a breath, but he forgot, leaving his lungs empty for a small window of time.
To make sure what he saw was correct, he read the headline over and over again until he could no longer make sense of the words.
TONY STARK, MYSTERIOUSLY BACK ALIVE
Chatter around him got even more audible, he paid it no mind. His thoughts were slowly becoming a mess, a painful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“I’m hallucinating again...” he whispered, “This can’t be right, it’s not possible.”
But he heard a man speak particularly loud about the situation.
“He returned from the dead? How is that even possible?”
A woman’s voice replied, slightly monotonous with surprise.
“I have no clue, it says he was randomly found walking around the shoreline.”
“Wow, the return of the hero huh?”
“Well, nothing should surprise us anymore at this point.”
“True.”
Peter left the shelter of the store and slowly walked forward so he was closer to the big screen, there were newly acquired photos of the man covering the whole screen. They were obviously taken by clueless people who thought he was just a Tony Stark lookalike so they could share it on social media.
Then the screen suddenly cut into a live feed of the front of the Stark tower, showing it crawling with an uncountable amount of reporters and cameras all directed at the people standing behind a strong line of security holding the vulture-like reporters back.
One of those people was Pepper Potts-Stark, who was standing at the front to give a speech. Behind her were some personnel, plus what was left of the former Avengers: Bruce Banner and Clint Barton.
They all looked zoned out, their eyes almost blank with the effect of the peculiar event as they stared at the crowd unseeing, just waiting for them to calm down.
Reporters were relentless as they asked question after question, all of them getting lost amidst the seemingly unending chaos. With her lips pressed into a thin line and slightly frowned eyebrows, Pepper just waited for the cacophony to calm down.
Someone from Peter’s left yelled at the screen.
“Oh my god! Someone shut them up!”
One of the security guards, as if he heard the yelling, got in front of Pepper and raised his voice high enough to be heard by the whole crowd as he lifted his palms up to gather attention. His voice boomed around the area, alerting the reporters into silence like they were some unruly first graders.
“Please calm down and let her speak! Or else we will have to cut this short and you will go back empty-handed.”
The guard raised his eyebrows as if to dare the reporters to continue screaming like they did up until that point. But now there was complete silence as they were left speechless with the sudden authority.
Pepper could be seen putting her hand on the guard’s shoulder to give him a silent thanks, the guard stepped aside and she came back into focus again.
Her expression gave nothing away; you would think her dead husband hadn’t suddenly resurrected out of nowhere, that was the kind of woman Pepper Potts-Stark was. Always strong, resilient and strong-willed against the odds.
She took a deep breath to give her speech, and the entire city held its breath, descending into silence.
Her sentences were short, to the point.
“First of all I want to confirm that yes, it really is Tony Stark. We don’t know how he came back to life, he is currently going through a medical check-up. The only obvious clue we could find was the black infinity symbol carved onto his neck like a tattoo. He won’t be giving a speech any time soon, and that will be all for the time being. Thank you for listening.”
She gave a final smile and turned around to leave, the reporters suddenly came back to life and the speakers of the billboard were muted to protect people’s poor ear drums from erupting in the face of the sudden roar. The screen changed into a black one.
Peter lowered his head once more, the murmurs of the crowd around him reached his ear but they went unprocessed against his more pressing thoughts.
Mr.Stark is back, he is back, he is back!
His brain chanted the same thing again and again as if it was trying to convince Peter’s heart that it was true, that he was back.
Now another kind of smile turned the corner of his lips up, he breathed heavily as happy tears dropped down onto his already wet shirt. But then his eyes suddenly widened, losing focus as another thought started coming alive to kill the hope-filled one.
So what? I’m sure he doesn’t remember me like everyone else, and...I can’t let him die again.
Suddenly, he was just a small child standing under the chilly rain, soaked from head to toe. He still didn’t have anywhere to go, no one would share their warmth with him no one cared. Still, he was grateful to whatever or whoever brought him back.
The world needed the Iron Man.
Spider-Man was no more. Not after losing his powers in a single day.
And Peter? He was nothing. Nothing but a curse that could potentially kill everyone he would love in the future, or currently loved even though they remembered nothing about who he used to be. In their eyes, he would just be a homeless kid they would accidentally glance at while crossing the street in their luxury cars. Maybe they would feel sorry for him for a split second, then they would forget about him the moment their eyes turned elsewhere. The image of his figure would be buried among the countless other drifters in their memories.
Trying to get his bearings together, he pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t the time or place to have a mental breakdown. He had to find somewhere warm, and he had to do it fast because he hadn't slept for two days. The darkness was threatening to claim him any moment, even the wet pavements looked like a bed to him.
Maybe nothing would happen if he just slept under the rain?
Where would he find a warm place? He couldn’t just go sit in a café or anything, he didn’t have that kind of money.
Mr.Stark wouldn’t let you live in the streets.
“You’re not helping, stupid brain!” he chastised himself.
He got weird looks from the passing people, surely it wasn’t their first time seeing a homeless teen.
With no other choice, he headed back under the deserted store’s awning again and sat on the wet ground without a care in the world. To keep warm, he pulled his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, he leaned his head on his knees.
It’s okay, I’ll get through this. I’m okay, I’m okay...
Repeating that like a mantra in his head, he drifted off to sleep, still wet and shivering. With the last of consciousness, he thought about the smiling faces of the people he loved. If he had died, at least there would be no one to grieve him.
He didn't know how long he had slept, but it was a dreamless sleep. Which was a rare occurrence. Normally, he would always be haunted by nightmares. Most of them were about holding May in his arms as she bled to death, her eyes losing their focus.
Or he would be looking at Mr.Stark’s half-burned skin and the lifeless eyes on the battlefield. Sometimes the man would speak with a dead, flat voice laced by a tinge of resentment.
“I’m dead because of you.” He would say, “I shouldn’t have tried to save you, my child is fatherless. All because of you.”
Peter would wake up from those dreams hyperventilating and disoriented, sleep wouldn’t be an option for the rest of the night or day. He would just leap out of wherever he was sleeping, a cardboard bed if he was lucky, and find some odd jobs to do to earn money for the food.
Even though he was obviously homeless, people would find it in themselves to trust Peter. Maybe it was because he looked like a desperate child and they wanted to be charitable towards him. Some would even ruffle his curly hair which was getting too long for his liking.
Through the haze of sleep, he felt a difference but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt the malaise and fatigue hitting him with full force.
Oh, I’m sick.
Realization had come quickly.
There was nothing he could do about it, maybe he would die this time. He had returned from death's door many times, maybe this would be the exception.
He was half-awake due to the uncomfortable feeling, his body felt like it was floating in the air, he didn’t feel the cold anymore. His ears picked up 2 sets of feet walking towards him, albeit slowly. Peter didn’t bother lifting his head up, so what if they wanted to hurt him?
The dialogue between the two men reached his ears, their voices familiar.
“Is he dead?” one of them asked.
“Nope, but he will be.”
A muffled sound of someone hitting the other carried to his ears.
“Don’t say that!” the gentle one protested.
“What?! I’m just being realistic!”
“I need you to be helpful now, come on, grab him.”
There was a moment of silence as the rougher man took a second to answer.
“Are you suggesting we kidnap him?” he queried.
“No! I just want to get him somewhere warm and maybe give him some meds. He looks sick and...he is obviously homeless.”
“You wanna take him back with us?”
“Where else would we take him? The whole city is swarming with hungry reporters.” The gentle man tried to reason “Look, we are already causing a commotion. Just do as I say before people start gathering.”
The other man took a deep breath and sighed rather loudly, and then Peter felt hands going under his knees and back. He was being carried.
He wanted to push at the man carrying him, what was happening?
“No...” he weakly babbled, “Let...go...”
The one with the kind voice shushed him.
“Shh, it’s okay, we just want to help.”
Peter wanted to protest, to say no.
You can’t help me, you’ll be cursed!
He lifted one of his hands and tried to get himself free, a pathetic attempt, really.
The man carrying him chuckled, causing deep vibrations in his chest.
“That’s cute, but you’re in no condition to fight back.”
Was he being kidnapped? In the middle of the street with hundreds of people passing by?
He wanted to open his eyes to take a look, but they remained shut. He was weak and powerless.
What a surprise.
Whatever was happening, he would deal with it when he woke up.
If he woke up.
He gave up trying to fight and unwillingly leaned into the warmth of the person carrying him.