Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Saudade /souˈdädə/ (n.):

A deep, nostalgic, and melancholic long for someone or something, often accompanied with a denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.

It first started off with things around the house shifting just slightly; The napkin holder would move on its own, his H.R Giger Alien figurine would fall over (Peter didn’t pay mind to that one so much since it had a hard time balancing anyway), the living room light would switch on during the night--they were minor disturbances that he could tolerate.

Peter believed in ghosts but he wasn’t afraid of them. In fact, he learned to deal with them since we all die and eventually become ghosts ourselves. Whatever is mine is theirs, was his motto. Whenever he felt a presence in the room and he knew he was being watched, he would talk out loud for it to hear. But sometimes when he got too comfortable, it would take advantage of his kindness and would progressively get chaotic.

Like right now.

“Peter, if you don’t call in a priest, I’m never coming to visit you again. This house is creepy.” Gwen folded her arms and leaned on one leg. She gave him the type of look that was basically translated into: It’s me or the ghost. Not too long ago, the ghost had abruptly slammed the door behind Gwen when her guard was down. Peter knew it was just messing with her for shits and giggles, but she didn’t find it the least bit amusing.

The brunet put his hands in his pockets and glanced at the ceiling, silently weighing his options. He didn’t have a problem with the ghost in his house, and it wasn’t like Gwen was going to live with him any time soon--this was hardly a serious relationship.

“I can’t call in a priest. That wouldn’t be fair to it.” he said after a minute of pondering while tapping his chin. “I mean I guess I could get one to know who’s exactly living with me. Geez, why didn’t I think of that in the first place? I’m thinking about investing in an EVP recorder, like in Ghost Hunters--”

Gwen gestured with her hands to emphasize her frustration. “Do you hear yourself Peter? Your house is haunted--meaning it can get dangerous. The best course of action is to get rid of it! Smudging, blessings--whatever! I can’t keep walking in here thinking something is watching my back!”

“The ghost got here first, Gwen. I can’t just claim territory and be like hasta luego.”

“Oh my god, you sound like a fucking hipster, Peter. Okay, you know what? Have fun being a ghost rights activist. I can’t do this anymore. It’s over between us.” And she was gone.

Peter sighed heavily in relief as he watched her march out of his front yard. He suddenly felt the ghost presence enter the room, possibly watching with him.

“Thanks buddy. She was driving me nuts.”

º•º•º•º

Wade lived in the house his entire life. For some reason after he died from cancer, he didn’t pass over. No god or spiritual being had ever stopped by to explain why he was still stuck in the world of the living. There was absolutely nothing for him to do. Wade wasn’t even sure if passing over was an actual thing--he was just...there, existing but not at the same time.

Movers came and went as the years went by and Wade just sort of learned to deal with them--but the problem was that they couldn’t deal with him. Whenever he tried to pick something up to look at it, it would go straight through his hands. Wade eventually learned that it wasn’t impossible to do what humans do--it just took a lot more energy because he didn’t have a physical body. That being said, every day he devoted his time (since he had all the time in the world) to practice focusing his energy on being able to touch something. Doing this was the only way to make him feel human again if all he was gonna do was stay a ghost for the rest of his non-life.

His daily practices were misinterpreted for mischievousness and hostility by the living whenever he was able to move something. Because they couldn’t see him, they feared him. No matter how many priests they brought or DIY tricks they used, nothing could get rid of him--disappointing both parties.

So movers came and went--Until Peter showed up; Peter Parker, a dorky looking brunet in his twenties who seemed to accept Wade’s presence. Somehow he knew when Wade entered the room and would talk to him about his day or what was on his mind without worrying about getting a response--and the ghost would sit down and listen. Somehow this made Wade feel... alive.

Peter didn’t have very many friends or girlfriends because of Wade, but the brunet didn’t seem to mind it so much. He was more than happy to spend time with Wade even though he couldn’t see him.

“As long as you don’t break anything, I don’t care what you do.” Peter had once said when he came downstairs and found a bunch of DVD boxes all over the floor. He didn’t mind cleaning up after Wade at all--he even commented how it felt like he actually had a roommate. And whenever Wade would purposely tease him by slamming doors or make loud footsteps down the hall, Peter would politely ask him to stop or do it in a different room. Wade Wilson was utter baffled by this fearless character.

He slowly began to grow a liking to Peter to the point where it became almost possessive; He hated the women that got close to Peter--especially Gwen Stacey. He hated her scent, her aura, her everything--and did everything in his power to make her leave, which again, Peter wasn't opposed to.

After he drove Gwen Stacey out of the house, Wade came up with an idea after hearing her conversation with his roommate.

I want to communicate back to Peter.

Chapter Text

Vocalizing was a lot harder than Wade expected. No matter how much he shouted or screamed in Peter’s face, the only reaction he’d get from him would be, “Can you go somewhere else please? It’s too cold.”--to which the ghost would respond with knocking over the nearest object in frustration.

Wade was getting nowhere and he was beginning to lose his patience. After several days of trying he completely gave up one day and stomped noisily around the house in the middle of the night, slamming cupboards and knocking over any lightweight objects that didn’t need too much energy to move. He kicked the coffee table, threw picture frames, pounded his fists against the wall--he didn’t know what to do anymore. He was dead, he was lonely, and he’ll probably never get a chance to speak to Peter.

And Peter will eventually leave, just like the rest of them.

“Hey,” Wade spun around, just about to throw Peter’s new ceramic vase, finding the brunet peeking from the top of the staircase. In Peter’s eyes, it was levitating in mid-air. The ghost put it down gently and waited for Peter to say something. He looked tired and irritated, but he seemed more worried than anything. “Is everything okay down there?”

What do you think? Wade tried to shout. He decided to knock over the vase anyway in response, but Peter didn’t flinch or change his expression which only pissed off Wade even more. But before he could do anything else the brunet made his way downstairs and laid on the couch. He grabbed the couch throw and wrapped himself up, promptly closing his eyes.

“If I sleep here, will you stop making so much noise?” Peter murmured, drifting back into sleep shortly after. Wade was going to protest but stopped himself, suddenly noticing how adorable and peaceful Peter was when he slept. But at the same time, envy grew in the pit of his nonexistent stomach.

As much as Wade hated living when he was alive, he missed it. He missed it a lot. He missed eating, being with people, taking shits, sleeping--he missed living. Why couldn’t he have that in the afterlife? What was his purpose being here? When will he go to heaven or hell or reincarnate? It didn’t matter where he went, he just wanted to get out of this no man’s land. It was boring. It was miserable. He couldn’t even leave his house.

Don’t ever wish you were dead, Peter Parker.

Without thinking, Wade ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, barely feeling the soft strands. He felt warm and carried such a comforting and welcoming aura. Why didn’t he get to meet him when he was alive? He pushed everyone away when he found out he had cancer--his wife, his daughter, all of his friends--he didn’t want them to find out. He didn’t want their pity or their help. He hated himself and his life and thought that he’d be happier if he was better off alone, little did he know that he knew nothing about loneliness until he became a ghost. Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe this was his hell.

º•º•º•º

It was one of those moments where Peter couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep--but it all felt too real. He dreamt of someone sitting beside him, combing his hair with their fingers and mumbling something inaudible under their breath. The hand was warm and felt like a man’s--could it be the ghost in his house, or was it just his subconscious hoping it’d be?

When he woke up, his living room was clean; The debris of the broken vase wasn’t scattered all over the floor anymore, the picture frames were propped up back on the coffee table neatly which was straightened out--the entire living room was spotless. His ghost roommate would never clean up after himself--so why would he do it now?

Peter decided to spend the most of his morning researching for ghost hunting equipment online; EVP recorders, K2 meters, P-SB7 spirit boxes, and and whatever else was commonly used for communicating with the dead. He even thought about Gwen’s idea on hiring a priest, but thought about all the money he would have to invest in just trying to talk to the ghost in his house. There had to be another way.

While silently debating with himself, Peter realized that there had been a lack of paranormal activity than usual this morning. He walked around the house, waiting to feel for that distinct chill in the air, but he couldn’t find it.

“Hello?” Peter called out, but there wasn’t any form of response. He went back into the living room and stood in the middle, looking around while waiting. “I need to talk to you, can you do something for me so I know you’re here?”

Peter waited, and waited, but nothing happened.

º•º•º•º

Wade hid in the dark pantry, which naturally had a chill to it so Peter wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if he was in there or not. The ghost decided he’d stay there until Peter had to leave for work in the afternoon. When he heard Peter call him from all over the house, he really wanted to be there to see what he wanted, but the ghost insisted to stay where he was at--he caused enough trouble in Peter’s life already. If he was ever going to practice controlling his energy, he’d do it when Peter was out of the house and make note to clean up after himself. This was the only way to prevent Peter from moving out for sure.

Wade sat in the far corner of the pantry next to the back door, and rested his head against the washing machine. He tried to ignore Peter as much as he could until the brunet barged into the pantry, looking around the room with narrowed eyes.

“You’re in here. I know it. I can almost sense it.” Peter muttered. “I have an idea on how we can communicate, so can you come to the living room with me?”

Trust me Parker, it’s pointless. I've tried everything. Wade said, knowing Peter couldn’t hear him. He could throw something towards his direction to ward him off, but watching the brunet making a fool out of himself by talking to nothing was kind of amusing. 

Peter crossed his arms. “You can’t ignore me. If you feel bad about messing up the living room last night, you don’t have to be. I already told you I was okay with whatever you do. But I do appreciate you cleaning up after yourself.”

Wade hugged his knees and buried his face in them. Peter might be okay with him being a nuisance but for how long? How long was Peter willing to put up with Wade? How can you be so nice to me after all this time?

“If you don’t do anything, then,” Peter scratched his head and tried to think of something quick. “then I’ll leave and won’t come back.”

Yeah right, you’re bluffing. When Wade still didn’t do anything, Peter shrugged his shoulders and made his way upstairs.

“I guess I’m gonna pack, then.”

The brunet came back down shortly with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Wade flinched at the sight before him--Peter had his shoes on and his car keys in his hand. He can’t be serious, Wade thought. He’s just gonna leave with a half empty backpack? Peter passed the pantry, glancing at it expectantly before he made his way to the front door.Wade suddenly stood up and followed him. He can’t be serious. No way.

Peter put his hand on the doorknob and Wade couldn’t help but feel his heart drop. Peter is going to leave just like that? Peter is just going to abandon me? He won't come back, will he? Wade ran to Peter and tried to grab him to stop him. He felt himself beginning to cry as he screamed Peter's name over and over again. He can't go. I need him. Peter, I need you. I need you! As much permission Peter had given him, he didn’t want to pick anything up to break it, because he’d already done it so many times. 

Peter opened the door slowly and Wade panicked even further. He grabbed his shoulder, which somehow didn't go through his hand this time and tugged on Peter as hard as he could--

“WAIT!”

Chapter Text

Peter obviously wasn’t going to leave; He just wanted to see what would happen, plus it was in the spur of the moment--he couldn’t think of any other way to get the ghost’s attention.

The moment he felt a hand grab his shoulder, followed by a booming frantic voice--a mixture of fear and fascination swelled up in his chest. Peter spun around and saw nothing, but he relied heavily on the rest of his senses; There was a nip in the air and he couldn’t help but feel this overwhelming sensation of what would closely be compared to a heartbreak or some form of disappointment. In that moment, Peter knew he hurt his ghostly roommate. He didn’t know how he knew, he just...knew.

Peter closed the door and turned around to face the invisible being that was supposedly right there--he tried to keep his eyes in that area.

“I was just joking.” Peter said softly. But his roommate began to knock things over with so much force, the brunet had to duck to get out of the way. The ghost stomped around the living room and everything began to move at once; The cabinets were pulled open and slammed shut, picture frames tossed left and right--everything went flying. It was more than obvious that the ghost was upset by his little escapade.

“Hey, calm down--” Peter stood up and raised his hands cautiously, not sure where to look. A chair suddenly went flying in his direction and he tried to dodge it but the leg nicked his shoulder, knocking him down to the ground. Everything suddenly stopped moving, as if his roommate realized what he just did. Peter gripped his wounded shoulder which pulsated in pain and took a second to breathe it out. He sat up not too long after that and rested his head against the front door.

“I’m sorry.” Peter said, wincing at his arm. He knew very well he had it coming and had no reason to be upset about it. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid idea of me, I didn’t know how else to get you off your ass. I won’t do that again, I promise.”

There was no response but the ghost stopped throwing things so that alone was a good sign. He decided to keep talking before it got impatient.

“I wanted to tell you I had an idea. We’ll be playing a little game of twenty questions, where I ask you questions that only a require a yes or a no answer. So how you reply, well, you’re always knocking on the walls so I figured one knock would mean yes and two knocks would mean no. And if you want to stop talking you knock three times. So...would you like to try it?” He figured that when Wade was able to speak earlier, it must have taken a lot of energy and emotion that it was only a one time thing.

After several long pulses of silence, there was a curt knock on the coffee table.

º•º•º•º

Wade was pissed off but easily forgiving at the same time, realizing afterwards that the stunt Peter pulled was obviously unrealistic. But this was the first time in his entire existence as an entity that someone would affect him this much. He grew too attached to Peter--he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t but help feel terrified of having another person in his life walk away. Even though Peter knew nothing about him, his company alone made him feel human again, and Wade didn’t want to lose that feeling.

Peter sat down on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers laced together. Wade sat across from him on the other side of the coffee table. For the rest of the morning, Peter asked questions about who Wade was; He was able to get his name by saying the alphabet and whenever he landed on the right letter, Wade would knock on the table once. Peter was also able to get a handful of information with just yes and no answers; So far he learned that Wade died about thirty years ago from what Peter guessed correctly was cancer, and that Wade had a family. They “talked” for quite some time until Wade was beginning to get tired of using his energy to knock, so he used the last of it to end the session by knocking three times as he was told.

“Okay, well it was nice talking to you Wade. I have to get to work, so maybe whenever you get a chance you can practice speaking verbally like you did earlier? Until then you can just knock to reply.”

Wade thought about it for a moment. All those emotions he built up somehow allowed him to be heard by Peter. Time and patience would be the only keys into achieving verbal communication unless Peter was planning on messing with him again. All Wade knew at the moment was that he was exhausted and just needed a moment to himself. He knocked once more to answer Peter, and the brunet nodded, promptly heading upstairs to get ready for work while Wade laid down on the couch to gather himself.

Despite what happened early, he was happy. He was happy that things were finally taking a turn and he wished he could express it. Someone’s noticing him now. Someone doesn’t look at him fearfully or look down at him. Even though he wanted to be rid of from this world, he couldn't help but want to stay here. He didn’t care if he couldn’t pass over--Peter Parker is here.

Peter trotted downstairs and made his way for the door. Gripping the knob hesitantly before pulling it open, he looked over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the living room for where Wade might be.

“I’m really sorry that I’ve upset you, Wade. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Peter sat behind the register with his chin resting in his palm. Some days the bookstore would be bumping with customers, but most days not a soul stopped by--and today was one of those days. Luckily it gave him time to digest what just happened at his house--he was able to communicate with a ghost. How could anyone be skeptical of ghosts? Sure there are some hoaxes out there that give it a bad reputation, but the afterlife was very much real to Peter.

“Wade Wilson,” he let the name linger on his tongue as he repeated it over and over thoughtfully. He did a little bit of hunting on the internet and found nothing on him or anyone that might be related to him. After all, it was 30 years ago, before social media was even invented. Peter then frowned, remembering the fact that Wade had died from cancer. He instantly recalled the common phrase people often say regarding one’s passing ‘Well, they’re in a better place now’. But are they really? Wade was stuck here. Sure he wasn’t suffering from the cancer anymore, but he was stuck here with limitations.

Peter wanted to help Wade, but he didn’t know how or where to start.

“Hey auntie?” Peter called out from the register after a long contemplation. Aunt May was reorganizing the shelves in the Mystery aisle, humming noisily to herself. She peaked her head out from the aisle, still humming.

“Yes Peter? Is everything okay?” she chirped.

“Do you know anything about ghosts?”

Aunt May rolled her eyes and waved him off. “What did your uncle feed that poor brain of yours this time?”

“It’s not uncle Ben this time, aunt May,” Peter got up from the register and followed her. “You see, my house is haunted. A ghost is able to move things around and I was even able to communicate with it--”

That’s not a common ghost, Peter. That’s what you call a poltergeist. Your uncle is always blabbering about those damn things from all those t.v shows he’s watching. But there are so many mysteries in the unseen world and it could be dangerous, Peter--whatever it is. ”

“That’s true, which is why I wanted to know how I’d be able to find out for sure who’s residing with me and what I can do to help them move on.”

The silver haired woman sighed heavily, letting a moment of silence pass. She did that whenever uncle Ben would go on and on about the paranormal world. “It’s not who, Peter. It’s what. Ultimately, there is no real way to find out. For as long as it’s been around, we still know very little about that side of life. Just stay safe and--” Aunt May swatted his arm hard, making Peter hiss in pain. “--stay away from Ouija Boards, for the love of God.”

“Alright, ow!” Peter rubbed his arm. “But aunt May? Let’s just say that the ghost really was a person at one point and they need help. I mean, what am I suppose to do from there?”

Aunt May looked at him with soft, sad gaze. “That’s up to you, Peter.”

-

Aunt May allowed Peter to get off of work early since they didn’t get a single customer. He decided to take the back roads to get home as opposed to the freeway since traffic was congested the most at 6PM.

Tapping his wheel rhythmically to the music playing on the radio, he still couldn’t get his mind off of Wade. He doubted there was any sort of reliable book or person to guide him in the right direction since this wasn’t a common situation. He was completely stuck on where to start--perhaps simply conversing with Wade was as good as it was going to get. Be it a dark entity or truly someone that has passed, as long as Peter was smart about the situation, he would be fine.

As he drove, he recited the information he had of Wade which brought him to have even more questions. What was Wade like before he died? What did he do for a living? Would he be the type of person Peter would get along with? There were so many ‘what ifs’, Peter was almost disappointed that he never got to physically meet him.

While the brunet was tangled in his own thoughts, a deer suddenly jumped out from the side, making Peter swerve the car to the side as hard he could off the road and down a steep hill. The car violently rolled down which made it harder to control. Before he knew it, he was heading straight into a tree and--

º•º•º•º

Wade laid on the couch for most of the day, trying to rebuild his energy. He was basically meditating; He focused on his breathing and tried to stay as calm as possible. The sooner he was able to achieve this, he’d be able to pick up something as heavy as a book and throw it across the room if he wanted. But he wasn’t going to touch anything today. Today he was going to try to practice vocalizing. 

Wade didn’t know if he'd be audible since no one was there to receive the sound. He could talk all wanted but no one would be able to hear him. He just needed to train his voice as he trained his physical strength and have all the patience he could muster. For several hours, he'd talk to himself out loud as he walked around the house. It didn’t matter what he’d say, as long as he was speaking--anything was better than nothing. He sang, he shouted, he laughed--he did everything a voice could do.

Soon, he was beginning to grow tired and decided to take a break until Peter came home. As he rested on the couch, he fixated his eyes on the clock--it was past 10PM and usually Peter gets home on the dot. Wade waited, and waited--but Peter never showed up.

Anxiety swelled up in Wade’s chest. Perhaps Peter got held up at work? No. Peter would always talk about how boring and empty his work was. Maybe he’s at a friend’s house? No. Peter said he’d come back. Peter promised, didn’t he? Wade paced the living room back and forth while anxiously keeping his eyes on the clock, but there still was no sign of Peter.

Is he mad at me? Did I hurt him badly? Does he hate me now? Is he going to move out? Will he ever come back? Too worked up to compose himself, Wade began to throw things across the room. He screamed. He cried. He couldn’t control his breathing.

Peter promised.

Peter lied.

Chapter Text

The air reeked of Lysol wipes and lavender scented antibacterial soap, followed by a distinctly tense atmosphere. There were a series of hushed anxious voices and a steady beeping sound that persisted to pierce his ear drums. Peter had no idea where he was or what happened.

“Let’s try this again,” A loud voice boomed through his ears as if a megaphone was right there. “Peter? Can you hear me?”

It was harder to open his eyelids than Peter thought. They were heavy and still drenched with sleep, but he managed to crack them open just a tad. He found a quite a frightening face nose to nose with his; small beady eyes scanned his face meticulously as if waiting for something to happen like he was some third grade science experiment.

“You’re..too..close.” Peter croaked. The doctor pulled away and roared in laughter, making Peter wince.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re doing well, Peter. I’m Doctor Octavius. You are one lucky lad, y’know.” Peter was too tired to speak so he just stared the doctor expectantly, unable to recall anything.

“You got into a car accident, Peter. You’ve got a concussion, a broken nose, and a broken arm--probably from covering your face when you crashed into, well, a fairly young lodgepole pine tree. But anyway, you’re discharged in a couple of days for precautionary measures, but I think you’re well on your way today if you feel like it since you’ve been here for almost a week. Ah, but, before that, I have a few questions to ask you: do you remember anything?”

Dr. Octavius was talking so fast, Peter could hardly catch up. It took him a second to respond as he tried to recall his accident. He couldn't remember anything about it. “The last thing I remember was being at home with Aunt May. I...I honestly don’t remember how I got here.”

The doctor raised a brow. “Peter you’ve been living alone for about six months. You don’t remember that at all either?”

“I know that I was suppose to be buying a house soon, but I don’t recall living in it yet.”

“It’s common to have amnesia after a concussion, Peter. Your memories may or may not come back, but only time will tell. I suggest taking it easy for a few days, yea?”

-

Aunt May came by to pick him up later that day. She cried and lectured him on the way home about how cars were unsafe and that more people were getting into accidents lately--which Peter found contradictory on her end because the more frantic she spoke the faster she drove. Nonetheless, he knew better than to argue with her and trusted her driving abilities.

“Take a few days off, Pete.” Aunt May said as she stopped in front of a small house that Peter remembering seeing online. Apparently he had already gotten the house he wanted. “I’ll mind the shop on my own until you’re healed.”

“Thanks aunt May. I’m sorry I caused you trouble.”

Aunt May put a hand on Peter’s cheek and looked at him sadly. “Oh Peter, I’m just glad you’re alive and you didn’t lose your memory of me and your uncle Ben. Stay in your house, okay? I don’t want you risking any more accidents.”

“Yes aunt May. Good night.”

“Good night, Peter. I’ll call you tomorrow!”

Peter marched up the porch steps and fumbled with his keys, trying to find the right one. After a couple of tries, he finally got in and was met with a completely trashed living room. At first he thought maybe he was just a sloppy resident, but then he saw broken glass on the floor as if someone broke in or maybe he’d gotten into a fight with someone before he left the house.

He hesitantly stepped into the house and looked around. What exactly am I forgetting?

"Peter?" At the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw a man approaching from the kitchen. 

The brunet yelped in surprise and fell to the floor as he looked in the man's direction, but he was gone. Peter laid there for a moment to catch his breath, utterly confused. Was he hallucinating? He slowly got up and went into the kitchen--it was empty, as was the rest of the house. 

Chapter Text

Just when Wade was about to give up, Peter stumbled through the front door. He suddenly forgot about all the pain he was going through during his absence, and was feeling overjoyed and giddy to see that familiar face. He was about to greet Peter but once he saw the bandage around his head and on his nose and his arm in a sling, Wade stopped. What happened to Peter?

He carefully watched the brunet examine the living room with a confused expression stained on his face--usually Peter would brush off Wade’s mess or mildly reprimand him. No matter what, the first thing he’d do would be to acknowledge Wade. But there was something about Peter that was off. Something about him that was completely different.

But maybe Wade was just overanalyzing him. Peter must’ve gotten into a fight or a car accident--whatever it was, what was more important was the fact that he was okay and that he was here (although to Wade, Peter dying would make his life easier--but what would be the odds of Peter passing over before him if that was even a real thing?).

Too excited to contain himself, Wade decided to show off what he’d been practicing for the past week; To get his mind of Peter and stop sulking in self pity, Wade tried his best on vocalizing as well as making himself visible. It took a lot of energy to do these every day, but Wade kept focused and persisted to work hard until he was showing some signs of progress.

He stepped out of the kitchen nervously and called Peter’s name while making himself visible. But the very instant Peter recoiled in fear by the mere sight of him, Wade did the exact same and hid himself.

After that, instead of being fascinated and begging Wade to do more like Peter usually would, he just laid there awkwardly on the ground trying to digest what had just happened. Eventually, he brushed it off, mumbling ‘It must be the meds’ and continued on with his evening.

The bandage on Peter’s head made sense now--Whatever happened to him made him forget about Wade, and to that, the ghost didn’t know how to react. Normally he’d throw a fit, but...perhaps staying out Peter’s life was the best thing.

As he watched Peter clean up the living room--clean up after Wade’s mess, he thought about how much easier Peter’s life would be if Wade wasn’t so active. How much easier Peter’s life would be if he forgot about Wade forever.

-

Wade laid low for the next couple of days, keeping a keen eye on Peter since he could hardly take care of himself with one hand. Even though Wade’s actions were limited on helping Peter, he was on stand-by for just in case--whatever that meant. He just wanted to be around him.

Ever since Peter lost his memory, he’d been a lot more clumsier--always dropping things, bumping into walls, stubbing his toe, dropping things. Watching him suffer throughout the day pained Wade, but he had already made note to keep his distance. Besides, the only things Wade knew how to do was lower the temperature in the room and knock shit over because he still needed practice on holding things for a longer period of time.

After an entire day of cleaning the house, Peter decided to lay on the couch to relax with the t.v on at a low volume. He looked exhausted; his hair was tousled and he had bags under his eyes. He even had a vague sheet of stubble on his face, but it Wade almost found it cute.

Wait, I think he’s cute? Wade thought, shaking his head. What am I? A high school girl? I’m dead. My opinion is irrelevant.

Wade sat on the other couch and put his feet on the coffee table as he rambled on in his head while admiring Peter from afar. He was gradually feeling a bit weird in the chest from the idea of Peter forgetting him--but it was for the best, wasn’t it? Peter looked...happy? No. Peter’s actually been looking depressed more and more lately. Maybe because he couldn’t go to work because of his injuries? Wade couldn’t think of anything else. But he could feel Peter’s aura reeking a depressing atmosphere.

Suddenly Peter broke out into a loud sob, crying into his good hand. Wade flinched and watched in confusion. The brunet leaned against the couch cushion and continued to cry like a kid. Wade looked at the t.v--there was nothing sad on, just the damn Maury show and that didn’t even have any heart-wrenching stories.

Peter took out his phone from his pocket and dialed for who Wade could see from where he was sitting, aunt May. Resting the phone between his ear and his shoulder, Peter wiped his eyes and sniffled loudly. Aunt May answered shortly after.

“Aunt May, I need your help.” Peter cried into the phone. “I-I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m missing something and it’s killing me that I can’t remember.” Peter couldn’t balance the phone properly, so he held it with his free hand and put aunt May on speaker.

“Peter, calm down--” Aunt May tried sounding as soothing as possible but Peter couldn’t be comforted by it.

“I remember everything before living in this house. So I know whatever happened between moving here and my accident that something or someone important came into my life. I don’t know how to explain it aunt May I just know that I’m missing something. Did I tell you anything that might be important? I just, I just can’t keep feeling like this.”

“I understand, Peter.” Aunt May spoke slowly so every word registered in his head. “But I need you to calm down for me first, okay? You sound breathless!”

Peter nodded and took a deep breath. He waited a few pulses to settle down. “Okay. I’m calm. Sorry, I’ve been feeling emotional all week.”

“It’s okay Peter. Now, let’s see. You dated a girl named Gwen Stacey for about two months. But you two broke up--you didn’t seem distraught by it at all for some reason. You also kept babbling about ghosts on the day of your accident, but Gwen Stacey is the only significant thing I know that’s happened to you.”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion. “Gwen Stacey? What was she like? Were we close?”

“I’m not sure, you mentioned her a couple of times but that was it. Maybe talking to her would help?”

Wade sat on the other couch looking dumbfounded--Peter brushed off the fact that aunt May mentioned ghosts. Now Peter was going to call Gwen Stacey? Wade imagined Gwen coming over and sneering like an idiot towards a spot Wade might be because she’d never help Peter remember him. Why would she? Wade would only get in her way.

Peter nodded at the phone. “I think you’re right. I might have her somewhere in my contact list. I’ll call you back aunt May.” They said their goodbyes and Peter started to go through his phone to find Gwen.

No, Wade thought. He’s gonna leave me--idiot me, what am I saying? He doesn’t even know I exist, therefore he can’t leave me. He’s just breaking my heart without even knowing it--wait, no he’s not. Because I have no feelings for him. He’s a man and I’m dead. That would technically be, what? Necrophilia? Oh god what am I saying?

Wade turned away from Peter and buried his face in his palms. He couldn’t bear to look at him smile while talking to that damn witch.

Wade sighed. I do love Peter, but I can’t. But I do--It’s complicated. It hurts, and I have no right to say anything about it because my time had been up for thirty years. But he’s acknowledged me more than anyone ever had. He’s put me before him and and his stupid girlfriends. He made sure I was okay. He slept near me whenever I was upset. He spoke to me all the time--even when I couldn’t reply, he knew I was listening. I’ve never felt so alive before, and now...I just feel even more dead. I’m back at square one.

Wade felt himself beginning to cry into his hands. His chest ached with so much pain he felt like he was going to explode. He’d get over it eventually, right? Peter would move on with his life and move out one day--and Wade would be here. Waiting. Waiting for what? It didn’t matter.

The ghost suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, making him jump to his feet and spin around, finding Peter looking at him with a soft, sad gaze. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, trying to register what was in front of them.

“You can see me?” Wade asked quietly. Peter, now wearing an owl expression, nodded slowly.

It must’ve been all those emotions I was letting out that allowed me to be visible and audible, Wade thought. I don’t want to have to be hysterical every time I want to talk to Peter normally though.

“You’re...a ghost?” Peter slowly walked towards him and tried to touch him, but his hand went straight through Wade. He gasped in awe. “This is incredible.”

Wade furrowed his brows and turned away. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t remember me, so--”

“What’s your name?” Peter ignored him and walked around Wade to see his face again.

The ghost flinched at his eager curiosity. “Wade. Wade Wilson.”

“Were we really close, Wade? Like you said?”

Shit. He heard me. Just how much did he hear? Wade shook it off and backed away from the brunet. “How are you not afraid of me? This is a completely different reaction than I imagined.”

Peter leaned on one leg and crossed his arms. “I didn't forget my nonexistent fear of ghosts. For as long as I can remember I’ve never been afraid of them. If anything, this is like, the best day of my life. So, were we really close?”

“...We were.” Wade frowned. “But it doesn’t matter though--”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Peter snapped, looking like he was about to cry again. “If we’re as close as you say we are, then maybe this is what’s been aggravating me--this, this thing that’s been missing is on the tip of my tongue but I can’t place it." He paused. "I want to remember, Wade. Will you help me?”

Wade took a moment to let the words circulate in his head as he stared at him with shock. Peter brushed off trying to contact Gwen. He was here, in front of Wade--looking at him, talking to him, and wanting to be there with him. He wanted to remember Wade, and he looked so determined. It filled the ghost with so much joy he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, I’ll help.”

Chapter Text

Peter could probably say he had the best sleep ever, but he wouldn’t know that since he forgot everything about his new house and his ghostly roommate--who was the first face he saw the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, smiling down at him like a little kid.

“Morning!” Wade beamed.

Peter grinned at the friendly face and sat up, wincing at the mild pain in his head. Dr. Octavius said his accident wasn’t that bad, so his memories should return at any moment. In the meantime, in case they don’t, Wade was perfect in helping him get back into his daily routine.

“G’morning. I’d ask if you were hungry so I can make us breakfast, but,” Peter hesitantly gave him a once-over.

Wade laughed. “That’s alright. I do miss having a good meal though. It’s been so long…”

“How long have you been dead?” Peter flinched at the vulgarity of his question and was about to apologize, but Wade casually waved it off.

“About thirty years, from cancer.”

Peter nodded slowly. “What about those um...those scars? Where are they from?”

Wade was suddenly taken aback, forgetting he had them and automatically reached for the prominent ones behind his neck. He remembered how much they all use to hurt. That was one thing about death he appreciated--it helped him forget about physical pain, but he was cursed forever with his emotions.

“I was a lab rat to some crazy scientists who thought they could cure cancer. Heh, look where that got me. It worked for awhile--my body was able to heal itself as the cancer manifested inside and out, but after a couple of weeks it failed and, well, here I am.”

“Oh...that must’ve been terrible. I’m so sorry…”

Wade shrugged. “It’s all in the past now. Anyway, let’s get the day started. You should probably go wake yourself up with some food and coffee. I’d help, but, I can only hold things for so long.”

“You’re right,” Peter got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “By the way, how are you able to make yourself visible? Did I ever get to see you before my accident?”

The ghost waited by the door while Peter did his business. “No, you never got to see me. And well, a lot of patience and practice are big factors. Have you ever believed you could do telekinesis and tried to move something but it never budged?”

Peter poked his head out the door with a toothbrush in his mouth. His eyes went wide with excitement as he nodded. “Yeah! I tried that when I was twelve.”

“Well that’s what it’s like when I tried to make my voice audible and my body visible. I needed a lot of energy and had to focus real hard. Now it’s a lot easier since I’ve spent a lot of time on it. It’s like stretching a rubber band--I’m allowed to go a bit further in my abilities little by little.”

“That’s fascinating!” Peter went back into the bathroom and Wade stayed by the door. “How long do you think you can last?”

“Until I get tired--like right now. Making myself visible and talking takes a lot out of me. I’m gonna be a bit on and off during the day.” Wade could feel himself gradually getting heavier.

“Oh! Okay, how bout this--” Peter peeked out the bathroom once more. “--just relax and take a break for a bit while I wake myself up and get some chores done. We can talk more in the afternoon, is that okay?”

Wade nodded, feeling sleepy. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Alright. See you in a couple of hours.”

Peter smiled and watched him slowly fade away. It was an odd thing to witness, but Peter couldn’t help but feel amazed. How often does one befriend the ghost residing with them? It felt so surreal. Peter had so many questions buzzing in his head about the afterlife but at the same time he didn’t care about all that--he found himself mostly focused on trying to get to know who Wade is. After all, the ghost did confess his feelings towards Peter. Whatever they had before he lost his memory, maybe it really was something special.

º•º•º•º

Wade followed Peter around the house as he cooked and cleaned and lazed around. Like before, Peter would vocalize his thoughts and feelings, knowing very well that Wade was there to listen.

The ghost sat comfortably on the couch next to him as Peter rambled on and on about random things. It was cute. Watching him get lost in own words was cute. Wade wished he could just grab his face and kiss him. He wished they could be a couple. A normal couple. Normal… Wade shook out the ridiculous thought. They could never work out together. As much feelings he had for Peter, there was nothing they could do about this. It was pointless trying to pursue Peter.

Peter stopped talking and shivered from Wade’s presence. He turned his head and looked at the general area Wade might be and stared. He was on point too, looking exactly at Wade’s face with a soft expression like he wants to say something. They stay like that for what feels like forever, just staring into each other’s eyes even though Peter couldn’t see him. He just knew where to look. Slowly, he moved a hand up to reach for Wade’s face--but the doorbell suddenly rang.

Peter flinched and ran for the door, leaving Wade to process what happened--or what was going to happen. Before he could muster up a reaction, Peter opened the door and Gwen appeared. Wade could feel his nonexistent heart drop at the sight of her. Something about her didn’t feel right--she reeked of mischief and deceit.

What the hell is she doing here? Wade could feel his temper rising and he had the strong urge to pick something up and throw it at that stupid doll face of hers.

“Peter,” her face was full of remorse. She was even crying--that, or she had a bottle of eyedrops with her. Wade glared at her from where he sat--Yeah, he concluded. She’d definitely up to something. Gwen stretched her arms out to hug Peter but the brunet backed away uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Gwen gawked at him and gave an over-dramatic sob. Wade rolled his eyes. “So it’s true! You really did forget me! I was your girlfriend. I stopped by the bookstore today to see you but your aunt was there and she told me everything.” Gwen tried to cup his face with her hand but Peter dodged it.

“Yeah and I was told that we broke up. Look, uh, thanks for stopping by but I’m really busy right now uhm--” Peter snapped his fingers trying to recall her name.

“It’s Gwen.” the blonde interjected his train of thought.

“Right. Gwen. Look Gwen, now’s not the time. It was nice meeting you again, now if you could just--” Peter tried to guide her out of the house but she stubbornly stood her ground.

“Did you hear me? I was your girlfriend. Sure we broke up over little things but I’m over it now and I’m here to make it better.” Gwen managed her to cup his face with her hand. She softened her gaze and her voice was smooth as silk. “Can we go somewhere? To talk?”

Peter moved out of her grasp and narrowed his eyes. “We can talk right here.”

“I prefer if we go out and--”

“Is it because the ghost in my house?” Gwen froze and Peter nodded at her reaction. “Yeah I had a feeling that’s what it was. Look, whatever you have to say, he deserves to hear it too.”

Both Wade and Gwen’s face morphed into a shocked expression as they watched him stand tall with such confidence. The ghost’s heart thumped excitedly; Peter was sticking up for him. This entire time he thought Peter would be swayed by Gwen’s words and go against him, but he was protecting him.

Gwen furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. “So you’re still a ghost lover, huh? What’s so special about it anyway? It’s dead. It’s useless. It can’t do anything for you but scare your friends and family away. You don’t even know if it’s safe--what if it possesses you? What if it’s a demon?”

Wade flinched at her cruel words. The realization had suddenly hit him--he was dead and all he was good for was scaring people away. Who knew if he was even dangerous--he sure as hell didn’t know. What if he grew into something dark and evil? He didn’t even know himself. Was Peter just being nice this entire time? He didn’t really want Wade here with him--even before he lost his memory. Who would want a ghost as a roommate in the first place? All Wade’s been doing is preventing Peter from simply living. In the end, Wade was just going to end up lonely.

“Get out.” Peter practically growled. His voice was dark and dangerous, making Gwen back away slowly in horror. “The ghost is not an ‘it’. He was human once just like you and I, and his name is Wade. He died from cancer and he has a bigger heart than you could ever have. I care about him--even if I had forgotten him from my accident. But I know for a fact that he holds a special place in my heart, so how dare you come into my home and insult me and my roommate. Get the fuck out.”

Too scared to protest, Gwen flipped her hair and marched out of the house. Peter closed the door after her and leaned against it. He let out a heavy sigh, slightly wincing at the mild throb of his head and arm. He felt a bit guilty for lashing out on Gwen--he was a bit irritable from the pain and was due for another dose of painkillers, but at the same time she deserved it. Wade must’ve heard everything.

Right before he was going to call for Wade, the ghost appeared in the middle of the living room with his hands buried in his face. He was violently sobbing, with his entire body shaking almost sporadically. He probably didn’t even know he was visible to Peter at the moment from the intense emotions he was feeling. Peter softened his gaze and slowly walked up to him.

“Hey,” Peter whispered. He wished he could touch Wade--to feel his skin, his warmth, his everything. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that.”

“W-Why are you so nice to me?” Wade hiccuped, slightly revealing swollen eyes to look at Peter. “She’s right. I could be dangerous. I mean look at me, Peter. I’m hideous. I’m dead. I’m useless. All I’m good at doing is ruining your life.”

“Hey.” The brunet snapped sternly. He reached to put a hand on Wade’s cheek even though it just went through. “Don’t decide things on your own. You do not ruin my life, Wade Wilson. Look at me--you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay? Gwen is nobody, and to me, you’re somebody. You always will be. Also, you're not hideous. You're...boo-tiful.”

Wade laughed as he felt more tears fall down his face. If he wasn’t going to be able to having a normal relationship with Peter, being by his side like this was just as fine. What would he do without him?

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for things to settle back down to normal; Peter was slowly but surely gaining his memory back as the days went by, but they were little things--like when he first moved here, and bits of his time he spent with Gwen when they were dating. There wasn't, however, a single hint of Wade just yet. Whether he remembered him or not didn’t matter to Wade in the end since Peter was learning a whole lot more about him now than before.

On the other hand, Wade was getting the hang of his visibility for longer periods of time. Even when he ran out time and vanished, Peter would still continue to have a conversation with him, which meant a lot to Wade--the way Peter would brush off the fact that he was ghost and treated him as if he was a living person. He even encouraged Wade to do things that made him feel human, whether it'd be trying to use a pen to write something or make coffee for Peter. Slowly but surely, these little tasks allowed Wade to turn back to what he use to be when he was alive before he had cancer--goofy, charismatic, optimistic, etc.--and less like the gloomy, grumpy old ghost he usually projected. He felt useful and wanted. 

Having Peter around was almost a necessity to keep him sane. Whenever Peter would leave to go to the store, Wade would get anxious and think of the worst possible scenarios until it drove him mad--but then Peter would be home out of nowhere as promised, with that crooked smile on his face Wade loved so much. He couldn’t...live without Peter.

After a long rest, Wade searched around the house to find Peter napping on his bed with a book sprawled open on his chest. A thin trail of drool seeped from the corner of his mouth and his hair was completely disheveled. Wade chuckled at the unusual sight of Peter as he sat down beside him, studying all of his features.

Hesitantly, the ghost leaned over to brush a cluster of brown hair from his forehead, revealing a tiny freckle at his hairline. Wade could barely feel the silky texture of Peter’s hair; he ran his fingers through them gently over and over again, wishing his sense of touch was just a tad enhanced. He wanted to feel Peter’s skin, the warmth of his breath, his scent--he wanted all of him.

Wade let out a heavy sigh and moved away. He snaked his fingers under Peter’s, using the majority of his energy to just entwine them together. After a struggling moment to achieve that, he stroked Peter’s knuckles with his thumb as he laid beside him. As frustrating as it was being a ghost, Wade was more than grateful to have someone like Peter to keep him company. But he can’t help but still feel unsettled--the feeling he had felt for thirty years.

º•º

It was a pretty sweet life while it lasted, but of course in reality, there’s always a downside to an upside. When some sort of illegal organization with an overly eccentric name that reeked of mostly bullshit contacted him out of the blue, Wade bolted for the opportunity. Who wouldn’t jump on that if their life was literally on the line? They said they could cure cancer. Wade figured after he was back to normal, he could return to his wife and daughter and they wouldn’t have to wear that same sad look on their face. Wade could go back to having a normal life.

But he was far from having such a thing. After the operation, the upside was that his cancer wasn’t going to kill him anymore. It was still there, however, but in less complicated science-y words, his body was able to regenerate--meaning he could put the barrel of a gun in his mouth and fire and he still wouldn't die. He could jump off a building and walk it off. He was practically invincible. The downside? Because the cancer was still there, it spread throughout his entire body inside and out, making his skin morph into something that made him look completely beyond recognition. The scars that would heal would reopen but then it would heal again, making Wade go through constant discomfort. It was even more impossible to show himself to his family, and he decided to give up trying and live in solitude. This went on for several weeks until his body couldn’t take anymore and his abilities began to wear off.

“I should’ve...read...the fine print…” Wade weakly joked to himself as he laid dying in his living room. There was no guarantee that the company was going to cure him--he was merely one of many lab rats of theirs. He was just another statistic.

During his last few moments, he wished he spent time with his family, his friends--with simply enjoying his life while it lasted. Because he pushed everyone away, no one came to his funeral. No one said their goodbyes. Because he pushed everyone away, he was absolutely alone.

•º•

“You’re warm…” Peter whispered. Wade flinched out of his grim thoughts and felt Peter tighten his grip on his hand. A smile widened across Peter’s face as he slowly opened his eyes to meet his gaze.

“Not as warm as you.” Wade whispered back, smiling softly.

Fingers still entwined, Peter rolled onto his side and rested his head on the side of his free arm. He buried half his face in it shyly while smiling crookedly. “What does my hand feel like?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Wade absent-mindedly continued to gently stroke Peter’s fingers with his thumb. “I can feel your hand and the heat radiating from it, but I can’t feel the texture of it, if that makes sense. I’ll just need to practice more. What does my hand feel like to you?”

Peter rolled onto his stomach and observed Wade's hand. He ran the pads of his fingers along his palm, making quiet hmm's here and there.  “I can barely feel your hand--it’s weightless and there’s no texture. But I can feel heat coming from it too. Why is that, anyway? Whenever you pass by me there’s usually a chill in the air.”

“There are things about myself that I know absolutely nothing about. I guess we’ll never know.” The ghost shrugged. 

The brunet laid back down and buried part of his face in his arm again. “Then tell me things about yourself that you do know.”

"What do you mean?" 

The brunet laughed while unconsciously bringing their hands closer to his face. “I want you to tell me about your life before you died.”

“But there’s nothing to really talk about. I had a pretty boring life.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “I find that very hard to believe. C’mon, there’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind, so start talking!”

Wade sighed in defeat but he was smiling. How could he say no to that adorable face? “Alright, alright. So I was born in…”

For awhile, Peter laid there and listened intently to Wade's story. He laughed and he cried with him as it became more personal, but Peter stayed with him through it all. He held Wade's hand while he spoke and would occasionally give it a good squeeze to let Wade wade know that he was there. That he wouldn't leave. 

That he was just as important as anyone else. 

Chapter Text

Wade never shared a part of himself to that extent with others--especially his wife; to openly express the things he spent too long trying to repress. Somehow it was easy to admit to Peter that he was just an insecure emotional wreck who’s good at nothing but fucking up and pushing people away. Maybe it was because they were both men or because he just didn’t care anymore because he was dead. Whatever the reason, he was glad that he told Peter. He was glad that he could trust him--it was one of the nicest feelings he felt in awhile.

“Hey, Wade?” Peter appeared halfway down the staircase, scanning the living room for him. He waited until evening to bother Wade, assuming he’d be ready to interact again around this time.

The ghost faintly made himself visible, wincing at the amount of energy he had to use to do such a simple task. Earlier’s event took a huge toll on him and he wasn’t quite ready to do that much again on the same day.

“Heya Pete,” he said softly. “What’s up?”

“Wait, are you okay? You still look pretty weak.” Peter trotted down the steps and sat next to him. For some reason he had the urge to put a hand to Wade’s forehead to see if his temperature was okay but forgot that it obviously wasn’t possible.

“It’s nothing. Not having a human body makes everything that’s natural to you very, very difficult for me. I just used more than a lot of my energy today.” Wade was beginning to slip away again, his appearance faltering here and there. He never felt this tired before. “What is it that you wanted to ask?”

“Oh, um,” Peter scratched the back of his head and looked away nervously. “I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere with me?”

Wade flinched at the sudden question and felt his face get warm. There was a couple seconds of awkward silence between them, with mostly Wade trying to register the question. Peter Parker asking me out? On a date? No, it can’t be a date...is it?

“I-I’d love to…” Wade said slowly. “But I can’t.”

Peter’s expression fell. “Why not?”

“I died in this house, remember? I can’t seem to leave it. There’s like, a barrier that’s preventing me to go anywhere else.” Wade paused, watching Peter get lost in thought like he was searching for a way to make things work. “I tried everything...I’m sorry.”

Suddenly Peter’s eyes lit up and he smiled widely. “I have an idea. Don’t come in my room, okay?”

The brunet stood up and ran up the stairs without waiting for a response. Wade raised a brow. “Peter, did you hear me? I said I tried everything! What makes you think--”

“Shush! Just don’t come in my room. Stay there and rest.”

The ghost huffed, clearly annoyed. He crossed his arms and began to fade so he could recover. “Yeah, yeah.”

Whether leaving the place he died in was just another thing Wade simply had to practice on or just forbidden according to some spiritual law, Peter figured out a way to make both parties happy in the meantime.

He shut the door to his room and started to rearrange the furniture. If he couldn’t take Wade places, he’d have to bring the places to Wade.

Wade found himself in the living room, but it was pitch black--which Peter almost always never let happened; He always made sure at least one light (either the kitchen or the living room) was on. He glanced at the clock above the t.v--it was a quarter to ten. Peter would still be awake...or home. Was he home?

With panic crawling under his skin, Wade got up and rushed upstairs. Peter’s door was closed, but he could see a dim blue light emitting from the bottom. He put his hand on the door, letting it go through so he wouldn’t have to physically open it--but then stopped. Don’t come in my room, Peter had said. Wade moved his hand away and hesitated. Peter was inside, right? Or did he leave? Why would he leave? He was still recovering from his injuries from the accident--there was really no need to leave the house at this hour.

Wade shook off the assumptions and stood up straight. He gave the door a few strong knocks and waited semi-patiently. Luckily, Peter answered right away.

“Come in!” Peter’s tone was suspiciously cheery. Did he invite someone over and expect someone else?

“I-It’s Wade.” he needed to make sure.

“Yes I know, you’re the only one living with me. Come in.” Wade could imagine Peter rolling his eyes as he said this.

Wade hesitantly opened the door, and a sea of blue engulfed him instantaneously. Literally. Peter’s room was completely altered; furniture was moved off to the side against the wall, leaving a space in the middle where a blanket was sprawled out. Peter was sitting on one side of the blanket, and next to him was a rotating night-light that covered the entire room in royal blue. Silhouettes of different types of fish would appear and disappear on the walls as it rotated. It was beautiful.

Wade closed the door and stared at the walls with confusion and fascination. He looked at Peter who was already staring at him.

“What’s all this?” Wade was nearly speechless.

“Since you can’t leave the house, I figured I’d, y’know, bring the places I enjoy going to over here to share with you...do you, do you like it?” Wade didn’t respond, as he was immersed in the pretty shade and nearly lost in its beauty. It was as if he was in a whole new world.

Peter patted the spot next to him. “Come sit with me.”

As he made his way to the spot next to Peter, he slowly spun around, watching the animated ripples of water languidly crawl across the walls. It was soothing to watch; Wade suddenly felt a sense of calmness wash over him. All the worries he had before seemed meaningless now. He felt safe.

“What do you think?” Peter’s voice matched the night-light; gentle and comforting.

“It’s gorgeous.” Was all Wade could say. “Is this suppose to be an aquarium?”

Peter nodded. “I love aquariums. You just get so accustomed to land that being in the water just gives you a new experience every time. The aquarium I go to has this tunnel that’s completely surrounded by water…”

As Peter spoke, Wade watched him; the expressions he made when he’s talking about something he’s truly passionate about--Wade loved them all; the way he arched his eyebrows, the notorious crooked grin he wore--everything he did made him beautiful. Wade watched the night-light highlight his face in blue, as if he were a part of the sea. It was as magical as Peter. What did I do to deserve you? He wondered.

Wade felt his chest ache. There was an overwhelming feeling he couldn’t describe overflowing in his chest, and at any moment he thought he might explode. Everything Peter was saying was beginning to drown out and without thinking, Wade reached for his chin and turned it slowly to face him. Peter’s words trailed off, and they silently stared at each other in the sea.

With his fingers still on his chin, Wade moved in slowly and gently pressed his lips against Peter’s.

Chapter Text

Wade felt like he was in high school all over again. It reminded him of a time when he was seventeen--way before he morphed into his left nut’s adoptive brother (as he’d put it)--where he would take cute girls out to the drive-in theatre to score some points. Of course, his overconfidence got the better of him and he was brutally rejected for being insensitive and going too fast. He never changed after that but still and yet he managed to get married to someone who, to him, was far above his league. But like the girls in the drive-in theatre, somehow he always managed to fuck up.

With Peter, everything was perfect. It was so perfect it felt downright wrong--because there he was, kissing him, and at any moment Wade was expecting a repulsed reaction. But at the same time he couldn’t help but feel giddy like it was his first kiss. Peter surely didn’t seem to mind it all with the way he leaned closer in response.

Like his hand that Wade held the other day, Peter’s lips were just as warm. He was disappointed that he couldn’t feel them, for he imagined they’d be soft. He’d love to wake up in the morning with those lips pressed gently to his temple. He wanted so badly to feel Peter.

“You’re warm.” Peter whispered as he pulled away gently, but only enough where their foreheads were barely touching.

“I wish I had a physical body though.”

“Oh?” Peter raised a teasing brow.

Wade realized the context of what he said sounded off so he turned his head away in embarrassment. “Er--t-to kiss you properly, of course.”

“To just kiss me?”

Wade is screaming inside by now, feeling his ghostly heart pound violently against his chest. So Peter liked to tease. Wade liked playing games too, but for some reason he was super nervous. He definitely felt like he was a little high school girl at the moment. There’s no way I’m gonna let him take control like that, he thought. Wade looked back at him almost daringly. Two can play at this game. He leaned in with a sly grin.

“To kiss you, to feel your breath on my skin, to run my fingers through your hair, to make love to you--should I go on?”

Peter’s face turned a shade darker. Failing to keep his composure he buried his face in his hands. “N-No thanks.”

The ghost broke out into laughter and sat back to admire the walls. The nightlight continued to rotate slowly as the various silhouettes of fish appeared and disappeared. When he was a kid, he always wanted a nightlight, but his mother could hardly afford to put food on the table. 

“Thank you for putting your time into this, Peter.” Wade said, feeling a strange warmness growing in his chest. “This is beautiful.”

Peter removed his hands from his face and hugged his knees, resting his chin on them as he watched Wade. “Have you ever been to an aquarium before?”

“Once, when I was about four or five. The first fish I saw was a sunfish and it was so ugly that I cried. My mom had to take me home right after. After being a lab rat, I feel bad for thinking that way because I know what it’s like to be ugly.”

“But you’re not ugly.”

Wade smiled softly and looked at Peter. “I know, you always make me feel beautiful, Petey. Thank you.”

The nightlight began to fade and they were both surrounded by darkness, with the exception of the moon’s faint light seeping through the blinds. The two sat in the middle of the room and comfortably shared a brief moment of silence.

“I wish I didn’t die.” Wade whispered.

“As morbid as it sounds, I got to meet you because you died, didn’t I?”

“Yeah but I wish I met you when I was alive. I’d be able to do everything with you.”

In the darkness, Peter reached for Wade’s hand, resting his fingers on top of his. “We still can.”

“But it’s not the same,” Wade frowned. “I’m wasting all of your time when you could be enjoying your life freely with real people.”

“You are a real person, and nothing you say will convince me to leave you.”

“Why? There’s nothing special about me.”

Peter gripped Wade’s hand. “You’re an amazing person, Wade. You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met--you always put people before yourself. You have a great sense of humor. I love your wit and the sound of your laughter. I’m glad you’re here as you are. You’re still you, dead or alive. It makes no difference to me. Sometimes shit just happens, and I’m willing to work with it if it can’t be helped.”

“But--”

“Sh. I will do everything in my power to make you believe me, no matter how long it takes.”

Wade pulled up Peter’s hand and kissed his palm. “Thank you, Peter.”

º•º•º

“I’m gonna see my doc today to get this cast off,” Peter said during breakfast. “Aunt May and uncle Ben will be coming by to pick me up. They might come in, so please don’t do anything reckless.”

Wade snorted as he flipped through a magazine. He couldn’t eat, but sitting at the table during meals and socializing certainly felt like he was truly included. “Don’t worry, scaring the jeebies out of people is exclusively for your ex-girlfriend. How long will you take?”

“Couple of hours, maybe.” Peter noticed Wade go uneasy then quickly added, “I’ll come straight home, I promise.”

Wade nodded but the look on his face gave out a completely different response. He wasn't fond of Peter leaving. it had nothing to do with him being overly possessive or anything (kinda)--he was just worried. Knowing how difficult it is to convince Wade that everything was going to be okay, Peter finished his breakfast as fast as he could. He grabbed his phone from the counter and sat next to Wade, taking a moment to look for something.

“What are you up to now?” Wade leaned in to see what Peter was doing. The brunet held the phone up high with the front camera activated. He moved his arm a bit until they were both in the shot.

“I’m gonna print out a photo of us so whenever you feel sad you can look at it. Say cheese!”

The ghost leaned back until he was out of the frame. “No way, not needed. I don’t want a photo of myself.”

“It’s a photo of us,” Peter pouted. “C’mon, I want to frame it and put it in the living room.”

“Your guests will see my face--or they won’t, and it’ll just be a photo of yourself and that’s weird. I’m telling you Pete, it’s a bad idea.”

Peter put his arm over Wade and pulled him closer, but the ghost struggled. “Then I won’t invite anyone over anymore. Now say cheese.”

“Peter you’re being ridiculous--”

“And you’re being difficult. Do this for me, please?”

Wade stopped struggling for a moment and huffed. Peter rarely asked for anything and a lot for Wade. What harm could it do? Maybe a photo of them together would be nice.

“Alright. Fiiine. If it makes you feel better.” Wade scooted closer to Peter who squee’d in glee and mushed his face against his.

“Yay! Okay, big smile and say cheese!”

º•º•º

Aunt May and uncle Ben arrived in the afternoon. Their entrance was a boisterous one, which was nice for a change. Laughter echoed throughout the house; even though it was only three people downstairs, it felt like a huge party was going on.

Peter’s relatives were the sweetest couple Wade had ever seen. He could see that they loved Peter sincerely--always putting their arm around him and making sure he was taking care of himself as he gave them a tour of the house. Wade kept his distance, following behind them carefully. He found himself absolutely fond of aunt May, wishing his own mother had been that loving when he was Peter’s age.

“This house sure is cozy, Peter. But it’s really small. Are you going to move out once you settle down with someone?” Aunt May asked. They made their way down the narrow steps and hung out in the living room.

Peter bit his bottom lip. Wade knew that Peter knew he was watching. The ghost hung out in the kitchen and watched them from a distance. “Um, I-I really like this house, aunt May. I’m sure if I do find someone we can work it out, y’know?”

“Well that’s alright son, you take your time. Don’t mind your aunt’s nonsense.” Uncle Ben patted Peter’s back a little too hard, making him lose his balance.

“Oh hush, Ben. Peter is an adult now, and he needs to start his life.”

“Yes May, he’s an adult. Let him live his own life.”

Aunt May gaped at him. “Why you--”

“Okay, that’s enough guys.” Peter got between the married couple before it escalated quickly. “We should get going, I don’t wanna be late. I’ll meet you in the car, yeah? I gotta check the windows.”

Like a light switch, they stopped arguing and headed towards the door while grumbling to themselves. Peter sighed as he watched them go. Wade snuck up behind him and rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder.

“They seem fun.”

“Yeah, they’re okay.” Peter chuckled. “Alright, I gotta go. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, okay?”

Wade tensed up, but it wasn’t noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Wade.” Peter turned around to look up at Wade. There was pain written all over his face. “I’ll be back, I promise. I always return when I leave for errands don’t I?”

“I know, I just--I...I don’t want you to forget me again.”

Peter sighed and put his arms around him. “I promise I’ll be safe, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

º•º•º

Wade sat on the couch and buried his face in his knees as he waited for Peter. He tried not to look at the clock or think about possible worst case scenarios. Peter would come back as he promised. He’d remember Wade, he’d be the same as he was this morning. Peter Parker. Peter, Peter, Peter--why am I so attached to you? Why did I grow feelings for you? The closer we get, the more scared I become. You’re too dangerous for me.

Wade stayed seated, rocking himself back and forth as he waited. He feared if he moved from his seat, he’d never sit back down and his paranoia would devour him. He just had to be patient. Peter was safe. Peter was just getting his cast off. Peter will come home like he always does, Peter-- 

“You know when you get emotional like that, you become visible?”

Wade snapped his head up and found Peter leaning in close, wearing that stupid grin he wore so well.

“Peter you’re home…”

The brunet raised both hands. “Surprise! I told you I’d come back! Look, my arm is good as new! Oh, I got a present for you.” Before Wade could say anything else, Peter picked up a small wrapped package from the coffee table and handed it to Wade. “I know you wanted me to come straight home, but I made a quick stop somewhere. Open it.”

The brunet sat beside him as Wade stared at the brown wrapping paper. “I haven’t gotten a gift in a long time…”

Peter said nothing, too afraid to ruin the moment for him. He watched Wade go through a series of mixed emotions as he stared at the gift with hard and hesitant eyes. With careful fingers he undid the wrapping paper, too scared to damage it for it was folded so perfectly. But he knew Peter was waiting, so he moved a little faster. He slipped his hand inside the wrapping paper and pulled out what felt like a picture frame. His heart jumped excitedly, already knowing what it was. He pulled away the wrapping paper and there it was--a photo of them encased in a simple black frame.

“I can see me,” Wade whispered. “I’m visible. I look real.”

Peter put a hand on his arm and admired the photo with him. “Because you are real, Wade Wilson.”

Wade put hand over his mouth and felt the overwhelming tears begin to fall. He put the frame down and covered his face.

“Thank you Peter. Thank you so much.”

Chapter Text

After Peter’s cast was removed and he had used far too much sick leave, he eventually started going back to work at the bookstore. Because his car was beyond repair, aunt May had to be his source of transportation, which gave Wade reassurance that Peter would make it home safely. He got the hang of being alone in the house since there was a picture of them both on the coffee table for him to go to whenever he felt uneasy.

Everything began to go back to the usual routine Peter had before the accident; Peter would come home from work, make dinner for himself, and relax with Wade. Even though the ghost was cooped up in the house all day, he learned how to use the t.v to keep himself entertained. His ability to hold things for a long period of time had increased considerably to the point where he would occasionally help Peter with basic chores--although the cost of doing such strenuous actions resulted in longer recovery.

Each passing day began to feel more and more normal for Wade; he was acting as one of the living. Sure it had its dull moments because he couldn’t leave the house, but Peter made sure he was satisfied and they were always doing something to keep each other busy.

On one of the days Peter had to work, Wade decided it was a good idea to make a fort. He figured the best spot would be in the living room so he grabbed a couple of sheets and draped them from one couch to the other. The spacing was too low underneath, so he pulled up one of the chairs to put in the middle to make more room. He then covered the floor in blankets for the sake of Peter’s comfort.

More cusion for the pushin! Wade chirped in his head. Or is it tushin? ...Am I even using that phrase right?

He decorated the interior of the fort in pillows to make it look more livable and took Peter’s desk lamp to use for lighting. He made a pile of books and magazines that Peter liked and put his laptop under the chair, intending to have a movie marathon. But in case Peter wasn’t in the mood for movies, he made a little fort door that faced the t.v so they could play video games. He threw in some snacks for Peter, leaving the popcorn packet out on the counter for him to deal with (since he insisted that Wade avoided the stove and microwave for both their safety).

Standing outside of the fort with his hands on his hips, Wade proudly admired his job. He was super giddy and excited to see the look on Peter’s face when he got home. He glanced at the clock above the t.v--6:30PM. Peter wouldn’t be home for another two hours.

Wade crawled into the fort and decided to rest--he’d need all of his energy if he wanted to spend time with Peter all night.

º•º•º•º

“So, Peter. When am I going to have grandchildren, hm?” The store was dead again today and Peter had thirty minutes to kill until he was able to go home. Aunt May walked around the shop a few times, putting new books in the shelves and making sure everything was in order before calling it a day.

Peter rolled his eyes at the question as he swung his feet over the stool at the register. Once Aunt May was onto something, nothing could stop her until she felt it was resolved. “Not this again. I miss the times when you use to warn me about not having any relationships, aunt May.”

“Yes dear, but you’re in your mid-twenties now and look at you!” The elderly women appeared from the aisle of books and planted her hands on her hips very matter-of-factly. “You’re a handsome man, Peter. I just...don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”

Peter looked down at his feet, trying hard not to smile. He wasn’t alone anymore and neither was Wade. They had each other. Whatever it was between them, it felt right. He wanted to tell aunt May that it was okay, he had already found someone to be happy with but she’d never understand, would she?

“Would you…” The brunet scratched his head, trying to formulate the words. “Would you be okay with anyone I’m with?”

The woman disappeared back into the aisle of books. “Well of course, Peter. I may not agree with you all the time but as long as they make you happy, then I’m happy.”

“But I mean like anyone anyone, aunt May.”

“If you’re trying to tell me you’re interested in men too, Peter, I have no problem with that.”

Peter felt his heart leap. He was shocked at the fact that she said it so casually. “Wait, are you serious?--I mean I don’t know if I’m completely gay but--”

“Peter, You’re practically my son. It’s my duty to help you grow no matter what you prefer.” Aunt May spoke like as if she had told this to Peter a million times.

The brunet jumped from his stool and ran towards her. Before she could react he embraced her as hard as he could and buried his face in her shoulder, holding her there for a moment. Words couldn’t express how relieved he was.

“Thank you aunt May. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

The woman chuckled. “I still expect grandchildren either way.”

“Of course. I’ll buy a bunch grandpuppies for you.”

º•º•º•º

Aunt May dropped Peter off at home on time as expected. He was excited to see Wade, which made every red light and stop sign the longest moments of his life. He wanted to run home as fast as he could--his body was circulating in overflowing excitement he felt like at any moment he’d explode. But kept his composure as best he could and sat tight with his hands tucked under his thighs while aunt May drove painfully slow.

Once she parked in front of his house, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and thanked her for the ride as he bolted out of the car. He fumbled with his keys and bursted through the front door, finding a...fort? There was a fort in the living room taking up most of the space.

Peter closed the door quietly with puzzled eyes glued at the perfect structure--there was even a little door to crawl in and out of. Half of it reminded him of a horror movie for some reason, but the fact that Wade built it left a warm feeling in his chest and the excitement was back up again.

“Welcome home, Peter.” Wade faded into appearance beside the fort with his hands on folded behind his back shyly. “Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding?” Peter moved closer to him and gave him a hug. “It’s amazing! I haven’t been in a fort since I was a kid! Can I go inside?”

“No, I made it for sightseeing only.”

Peter snorted. "Did you just sass me?"

Wade pecked him on the cheek. "No dear. Now get in!"

Peter crookedly grinned and crawled through the small entrance. He gasped in awe once he got it. It was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. Like the aquarium he brought to Wade, the fort was like another world. It made him forget that he was even in their own house. It was a secret world for just Wade and Peter.

“This is fucking adorable, Wade. Oh my god.” Peter laid down and stared at the nearly transparent sheets above him. He could faintly see the living room lights bleeding through, giving the fort and bit more lighting inside. Somehow lying in forts were much more comfortable than beds. “Thank you for doing this. This is perfect. There’s even snacks here.”

Wade crawled in beside him and laid next to him. He wanted to say something but Peter turned to face him, burying his face in the small space between them. Peter put his arm over Wade and sighed heavily. “God I missed you so much.”

Wade felt himself go warm. Lately Peter had been getting more and more frank with his feelings while the ghost felt himself get shyer. “I-I missed you too. How was work?”

“S’good. Boring. Tiring. Oh, my aunt was nagging me about grandkids again and somehow the conversation led to her accepting me for liking men.”

“Oh.”

Peter unburied his face to look up at him. “I-I'd like for you two to meet.”

Wade jumped out of his grasp and crawled out of the fort. “Oh no. Nooonononono, not happening Peter. Sorry.” He suddenly recalled the previous owners of the house staring down at him in fear and leaving without a second thought. He couldn’t go through that again. What if aunt May shunned Peter too because of him?

The brunet chased after him and grabbed his wrist. “Wade, wait. I know it seems ridiculous, but this is my aunt May we’re talking about here. She’d understand even if you’re a ghost.”

“No she wouldn’t, Peter. No one ever did.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Peter’s voice sounded a little hurt. The ghost glanced back at him and found him staring sadly. Still, he couldn’t change his mind. He had a bad feeling about it boiling in his gut.

“I said no, Peter. I can’t.”

Peter flinched at the harsh response and softened his gaze. He slid his hand lower to entwine his fingers with Wade’s. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got ahead of myself. C’mere.” He pulled Wade into a hug and buried his face in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Peter…”

“Now, you built a fort! I think we should have a rad slumber party, whaddya say?” Peter pulled away and crawled back in. “Video games, movies, books--what do you want to start with?”

Wade stood outside the fort, feeling mildly guilty. He knew Peter had good intentions, and maybe he was right--maybe aunt May would accept him for who he is. But what if she didn’t? What were the odds? Maybe Wade was being selfish.

“Peter.”

“I think we should start with video games first and wind down after that with--”

“Peter!”

The brunet poked his head out of the fort. “What’s up?”

“Look, I’m sorry for being rude, I just--”

Peter stumbled out of the fort and grabbed his hands reassuringly. “Shh, hey. I’m not upset. You have no reason to be sorry. I will respect your decision. You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to, okay? Look, as long as you’re by my side, nothing else matters to me. Now, let’s go have fun, shall we?”

Wade sighed met his eyes. Even if Peter insisted that he wasn’t upset, Wade could feel that he really was. His emotions emitted from him like a thick fog. That was another thing Wade hated about being dead--he’d know if someone was lying. But it was pointless confronting Peter about it because he was stubborn. They both were. So Wade sighed again and smiled.

“Alright.”

“Good.” Peter hugged him again. “Dang it, I wish I was taller than you so I could hold you.”

“But you’re the perfect size for me.” the ghost rested his chin on Peter’s head while he wrapped his arms around his small build. “My tiny Petey Pie.”

“Funny ha-ha. Now let me kick your butt in Mortal Kombat.”

 10 minutes later...

"Wade wilson I know you're cheating! This game didn't even come out yet in your time!"

Wade smirked as he button mashed like crazy. "Don't hate because I just happen to be really good. Sub-Zero is the man."

"Sub-Zero is a damn cop out character..." Peter grumbled as he lost for the fifth time.

They played video games for hours, watched a couple of movies, and took a few breaks for Wade to recharge while Peter sat back and read through a stack of magazines that was left for him in the fort. It was nearly 5A.M, but neither of them wanted to sleep. They laid on their backs, watching the sunrise slowly seep into the house and into the fort. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they shared silence, wandering in their own thoughts.

“Thank you Wade,” Peter said quietly after awhile. He was swinging their entwined hands back and forth. “I had a lot of fun. I really love forts.”

“I’m glad you like it.” the ghost smiled at him softly. “I always made a fort whenever my mom would be away at work for days on end.”

“It must’ve been really lonely…”

“Yeah, it was.” Wade admitted, sighing heavily at the memory. “My mom gave me the choice to either live with her or my dad. He was an alcoholic and pretty abusive so of course I didn’t want to go with him but then I wouldn’t be lonely while my mom was never home but she’d never hurt me. On top of that, neither of my parents told me they loved me--I’m sure my mom did though in her own way. I guess her working her ass off to support us both was a way of expressing her love to me. And while I knew this as a ten year old, I couldn’t help but feel angry at them both...Anyway I’m rambling, sorry.”

Peter quickly propped himself on his elbows and planted his lips onto Wade’s. The ghost would usually get flustered and overreact, but instead he rested a hand on the small of Peter’s back. Wade could feel an overwhelming feeling of remorse coming from Peter. Peter wished he could fix Wade’s past. He wished he wasn’t lonely. While he was happy he could be with Wade, Peter was extremely sad for him.

“You are loved, Wade Wilson.” Peter pulled away enough where he could meet Wade’s eyes. “Because I love you.”

Wade cupped Peter’s face, feeling his eyes get watery. He rested his forehead against Peter’s and whispered in a broken voice, “I know. I can feel it. And I’m really really happy, Peter. You have no i--”

Wade’s appearance suddenly began to flicker and fade, making Peter fall right through him. Wade sat up and looked at his hands--only the outline of himself remained, and even that was beginning to fade.

“Are you okay?” Peter tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but it fell right through.

“Yeah,” Wade furrowed his brows, trying to figure out why this was happening. There was a sudden strange sensation manifesting in his chest that he’s never felt before. It didn’t hurt, but it gave him mild discomfort. “I think I just need to rest longer--I’ve never stayed up this long before.”

“You sure? You don’t look so good.”

Wade casually waved him off. “Yeah I’m sure. It was just sudden. You get some sleep, I’ll be here.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a couple of hours then?”

“Of course!” Wade watched him get comfortable and close his eyes as he faded. He laid next to Peter while clutching his chest. The weird feeling persisted, circulating throughout his body. Wade began to panic, but nothing harmful seemed to happening. Maybe I’m just tired, Wade thought. I’ll go to sleep and when I wake up, it’ll go away. Wade huddled closer to Peter and clamped his eyes shut.

Chapter Text

Wade woke up fully replenished, however, that mysterious feeling circulating through every inch of his body remained. It was almost electrical; there was a faint buzz on his very skin, which almost felt like pins and needles after one’s foot falls asleep. He decided to put the concern aside since there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Plus he was adamant that it would go away eventually. It was probably from the climate change, he thought--it had gotten considerably cooler in the middle of August. Perhaps with the lack of heat, his body was receiving less energy to function. After a serious contemplation, Wade finally decided that that’s what it was.

Peter woke up not too long after him, stretching his limbs and yawning noisily. With sleep still drenching his eyes, he winced up at Wade through the harsh morning sunlight that pierced the fort and threw an arm over Wade’s waist. He scooted closer to him while grumbling to himself, promptly burying his face in the narrow space between them. Wade chuckled at the groggy brunet and brushed his fingers through his tangled brown waves.

“Rise and shine, baby boy.”

Peter made a guttural sound that clearly translated into a “no”. Wade learned in the past year that Peter wasn’t usually much of a morning person until he had coffee. Even the smell of it or the sound of it brewing would rouse him from his slumber with ease and he’d instantly be in a good mood.

“If I make coffee, will you get up?” Wade planted a soft kiss to his temple.

“But ‘s my day off.” Peter murmured.

“You don’t wanna waste the day, do you?”

“Mmf…’m comfortable though.” Wade chuckled and kissed him again. He waited until Peter completely drifted back into sleep before fading away slowly so he could get out of his grasp.

He crawled out of the fort and went into the kitchen to make coffee. He was able to pour the Don Francisco coffee grinds (although he personally favored Lavazza when was alive) into the filter without spilling it this time and silently praised himself. Peter would be super happy for him, and he couldn’t wait see his reaction.

The buzz in his body suddenly pulsated once out of nowhere, making him stiffen. A shiver went down his spine and within seconds, the tingling sensation was back to its usual low vibrations. Wade furrowed his brows and looked at his hands--nothing seemed to be wrong. He was dead, so he couldn’t be ill. It has to be the weather, he insisted though he was mildly panicking. It has to be.

While he was lost in his own mind about what his issue could be, Peter surprised him by hugging him from behind. The ghost yelped and faded, making Peter stumble forward.

“Hahaha, sorry. Should’ve given you a heads up. Thank you for making coffee.” Peter gave Wade a quick peck on the lips and began to pour himself a cup. He glanced over his shoulder at Wade staring at his hands. “You okay?”

“Uh--yeah.” Wade put his hands behind his back. “ Yeah I’m fine. Has it gotten colder in here?”

Peter took a sip of his coffee as he eyed the ceiling for a second to think about it. “Ah, maybe? Fall is coming up isn’t it? Yeah it’s been a little cold here and there. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I’ve been tired a lot and I think it’s the lack of heat causing it.”

The brunet nodded and headed towards the heater. “Okay, I’ll turn up the heat in here if it helps.”

“Could you please? If you don’t mind. Er--thank you Peter.”

Peter briefly touched the small of Wade’s back as a ‘you’re welcome’ and headed to the staircase, leaving Wade in the kitchen. The ghost looked at his hands again. The tingling sensation seemed to be getting...stronger? He tried to rub his arms but nothing seemed to be doing the trick.

I’m just overthinking again. It’s just the weather. What else could it be? It’s not like I’m gonna die again. What’s the worse that could happen to me? Wade saw Peter trot down the stairs and head over to the kitchen. He waved off his predicament once more, this time he was certain it was the weather testing his ability to function normally.

Wade leaned against the counter and watched Peter pull down a box of cereal from the cabinet while humming to himself. What if something bad does happen to me? Wade began to feel dreadful at the thought of not being by Peter’s side. Even if something were to happen to Wade, nothing could be helped--it wasn’t as easy as helping someone who was alive. You’re able to call the ambulance, get diagnosed, and get treated. Ghosts? Nobody knows anything about them. Nobody cares enough because they’re feared by them most of the time. Ghosts in the eyes of the living are nothing but liars. Demons. You can’t save a ghost.

Wade wanted to tell Peter about his problem, but at the same time he didn’t want to worry him. There had been enough problems in their relationship already. If something bad were to happen to Wade, Wade would want to spend as much as time as he could with Peter. Why sulk over his issue when he could just enjoy what he has in front of him? That was his first mistake before he died. He was too caught up in the fact that he had cancer that he abandoned his daughter and his wife. He didn’t want to put them through the emotions. But he should’ve stayed and enjoyed what he had. Death is inevitable. We all die someday--some sooner than others. He should’ve realized that in the beginning.

“Hey, Pete?”

Peter looked up from his cereal, his mouth half full. “Yeah?”

“I um...I was wondering…” Wade meandered towards the brunet and sat on the chair across from him. “I was wondering if the idea of your aunt May meeting me still stands?”

The brunet’s eyes widened and he dropped his spoon which (thankfully) landed back in his bowl. His jaw fell but food was still inside it. “Are you seriously asking?”

Wade scratched the back of his head. “I thought about it, and I think it would be good for us after all. I’d like to meet her.”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes were beginning to light up.

“Really.”

With a smile practically splitting his face, Peter jumped out of his seat and embraced Wade, showering him with kisses. “Oh Wade, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you--”

They both fell to the floor, laughing hysterically until Peter finally calmed down and slowed his kisses. He pressed his final kiss to Wade’s lips and looked at him seriously now. Whenever Peter looked into eyes, time always seemed to stop and that’s where Wade wanted to be forever--with Peter, until the end of time. He loved Peter so much it hurt. If aunt May didn’t approve, then screw her. Screw everyone who thinks they can’t be together. Wade wasn’t going to let anything pull them apart.

“Thank you, Wade.” he whispered.

Wade kissed his forehead. “Anything for you, baby boy.”

“You have a boyfriend?!” Aunt May excitedly shrieked, making both Peter and Wade flinch away from the phone.

“Yeah, I do. For awhile now.” Peter said. He reached for Wade’s hand and entwined it with his while keeping his eyes on him. They were both sitting at the kitchen table, shaking their legs nervously. “I’d like you to meet him at my place.”

“Of course I’ll meet him! When should I come? Today?”

Peter raised a brow for Wade’s confirmation to which the ghost nodded. We might as well get this over with, Wade thought.

“Yeah, today is fine. Any time works for us.”

“Sounds good!” Aunt May chirped. “ I’ll head over right now.”

“Okay, we’ll see you in a bit.” Peter hung up and took a deep breath. He glanced at Wade who looked extremely nervous; he was looking down at the table completely lost in his own world, most likely coming up with worst case scenarios.

Peter softened his gaze and reached for Wade’s other hand. “Hey. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I-I do want to. I’m just scared. What if she’s afraid of me? What if she doesn’t like me? Peter, what if--”

Peter gripped his hands a tad tighter. “I won’t let her hurt you in any way, Wade. I need you to trust me, okay? People will have their opinions and they’ll judge you no matter who you are or what you do. But I will not let her hurt you.”

Wade nodded and sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just...nevermind…”

“Tell me. Please?”

Wade shifted hesitantly. “It’s just...every single owner that lived here was afraid of me. They were afraid that I was watching. When I tried to reach out to them they thought I was trying to hurt them and their family. Seeing their faces--disgust, anger, fear...I felt like a monster. I didn’t mean to break their stuff. I didn’t mean to scare them. They brought in ghost investigators and priests and they were so mean to me, Peter. You have no idea…” Wade started to get teary eyed and his voice cracked while he spoke. “They would say mean things and use things that were suppose to get rid of me that didn’t work but they physically hurt. It got so bad to the point where I actually wanted to disappear and become nothing because that’s what I was. I--”

Wade finally broke down and Peter instantly reached for him, burying Wade’s face into his shoulder. He soothingly shushed him and rocked him side to side and the ghost sobbed furiously.

“I’m sorry, Wade.” Peter whispered as he began to cry with him. He held onto him as hard as he could. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I’m so sorry.”

Aunt May showed up about half an hour later with uncle Ben. As always, they both embraced Peter with such delight while Wade waited at the top of the stairs. The elders were so excited that Peter had to sit them down for a moment.

“Look,” Peter ran his clammy hands along his jeans, trying to figure out how to tell his aunt and uncle. “My boyfriend is...different.”

“Well that’s okay,” Uncle Ben snorted. “we’re all different, Peter. Now where’s the lad?”

Peter smiled but he was beginning to get teary eyed. “No, guys. Listen. I just want you to know that I...I love him. Okay? He means the world to me. He’s always there for me and he’s the biggest sweetheart in the entire world. But he’s been through a lot and I just want you guys to take it easy on him, okay? Please?”

“Oh, Peter. Are you dating a veteran?” Aunt May covered her mouth in slight shock.

“No--”

“Is he missing limbs?” Uncle Ben chimed in as he leaned in closer.

“No, guys--stop. Just, I need your word that you won’t do anything rash. Please?”

The elders both laughed. Aunt May put a hand on Peter’s knee. “Peter, I don’t know what you’re on about, but I promise I won’t do anything rash. No matter what color or gender or what your loved does for a living, I will respect your love for him.”

Uncle Ben put an arm around his wife. “Me too, boy. We want you to be happy with the person you’re with. It’s not our choice to decide.”

Peter nodded and nervously sighed. He let a few pulses of silence pass, then he looked at the empty staircase. “Okay. Wade? You can come down now.”

Uncle Ben, aunt May, and Peter looked at the stairs. They heard slow, heavy footsteps down the wooden steps--clearly hesitant. About half way down, that’s when Wade began to fade into appearance. He kept his eyes glued to his feet, too ashamed and afraid to look at the married couple. Everything will be okay, Wade chanted in his head. Everything will be okay. Peter kept eyeing his aunt and uncle who had absolutely no expression on whatsoever, which he couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. If something bad were to happen, he’d have to kick them out immediately. End of story.

Wade reached the bottom of the stairs and stayed there. His heart was pounding hard and fast, and he wanted nothing more than to just run back upstairs and pretend none of this happened, but it was too late. All eyes were on him. He slowly looked up as he dug his nails into his hand behind his back. Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay. He looked at aunt May and Uncle Ben for as long as he could.

“Hello,” he said softly. “I’m...I’m Wade.”

Chapter Text

Time felt like it had froze, and for a moment everything seemed almost surreal. Maybe if he pinched himself or clicked his heels three times, he’d wake up from this nightmare and find Peter sleeping by his side like always. But this was far too real; it was like meeting his wife’s parents for the first time when they first started dating. He couldn’t tell who to be afraid of more--her mom or her dad, and they both carried such a menacing aura that if he were to even be within a ten foot radius of their precious princess under their roof, he’d be a goner.

Wade knew he was being seen by both of Peter’s relatives, because their faces were stained in absolute shock. They seemed to be processing how he could be real and how the relationship he has with Peter could be remotely possible.

Peter looked at his aunt and uncle and then Wade, ready to jump on the very instance of a red flag. Wade tried to read their emotions, but surprisingly enough, there weren’t any hostile feelings quite yet. Just confusion, curiosity, and a lot of mental reality checks.

Regardless, the anticipation was killing him and Wade realized he couldn’t do this after all. Within the ten agonizing seconds of being visible, he suddenly disappeared. That’s when the gears began to turn and the old couple began to react. They both jumped to their feet with a yelp and hugged each other close, burning their gaze in the area Wade once was. It took two strides for Peter to get between Wade and his relatives, ready to kick them out. He had his arms and legs opened wide like a soccer goalie, as if expecting them to throw something--but both of them stayed still. Wade stayed close behind Peter, peeking over his shoulder. He could feel something negative radiating from Peter--Anger? Irritation? Somewhere in that spectrum reeked of danger.

“Peter,” aunt May began, but Peter pointed to the door.

“Get out.” he snapped. “I change my mind. This was a bad idea, please leave.”

Wade furrowed his brows in confusion and stood up straight, surprised at Peter’s sudden behavior. Without another word (though they both really wanted to say something), both aunt May and uncle Ben nodded with horror filled eyes and hustled out of the house. Peter stood on his guard until they close the door, then he relaxed a little. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to Wade who was visible again.

“Peter?” Wade touched his arm lightly and tried to look into his eyes, but he was completely avoiding his gaze. “Peter what just happened? Why did you do that?”

“I was just…” the brunet scratched his head absentmindedly and went to fix the pillows on the couch. “I just...it’s nothing.”

The ghost watched him scramble around the living room, arranging things a second, third, and fourth time. There was a low rumble of panic in Peter’s gut, Wade could feel it. It took the ghost a second until it dawned to him--Peter was scared for Wade. Peter was always an optimistic type, though; He always looked at the brighter side of things and if anything went wrong he knew how to fix it. He never let his fear get the best of him. So why now?

Wade gently reached for his wrist and luckily, Peter didn’t fight back. He just stopped moving and let Wade turn him and pull him close. The ghost rested his arms around the brunet’s hips and folded his hands. Peter was still avoiding his gaze like the plague, wearing such a depressing look on his face. Smiling to himself, Wade put his mouth to Peter’s neck and blew, making a raspberry sound against his sensitive skin. Peter flinched and tried to squirm out of Wade’s grasp at the ticklish feeling.

“Wade, wh-what at are you doing?” Peter tried to push away, but the ghost was using a lot of his energy to hold him tight.

“I’m not gonna let go until you tell me what’s on your mind.” he clamped his mouth on his throat and blew again, making a godawful fart sound. The silly act lightened the mood a little and Peter couldn’t help but laugh, neither could Wade.

“Okay, okay. You win. I’ll tell you. Please--” Peter covered Wade’s mouth to prevent him from moving his face any closer. He finally made eye contact with him--Peter seemed to be a little bit better, but there was still something in his eyes that read otherwise. Wade loosened his grip around him and waited.

Peter let out a long, heavy sigh and scratched his head. “I just...got scared all of a sudden. I got worried--what if you’re right? What if they are cruel? What if they are scared? I don’t want you to go through that again. I just…” Peter gently pried Wade’s arms off of him and put a bit of space between them. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I ruined a potentially good moment for you. I shouldn’t have acted irrationally.”

Peter reminded Wade of a dog--ears down, tail between his legs, and a horrified expression at the accidental piss puddle on the carpet and at his owner who may or may not explode with rage. He looked so ashamed for what he’d done.

The ghost rolled his eyes and pulled him in his arms again. “You’re fucking adorable, do you realize that Peter?” Peter opened his mouth to protest, but he spoke quickly. “You were just looking out for me. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not mad. But,” Wade pulled them apart enough so he can meet his eyes. “I was reading their emotions, and they...didn’t seem to dislike me.”

Peter slouched and rolled his eyes shut into a scowl. “Ugh, I’m such an idiot…”

“They were just...surprised. Confused. Maybe a little scared, but I mean come on, if a ghost walked in and was like ‘Hi I’m dead and totally have the hots for your son’--I’m sure you’d be sorta freaked out too. Right?” Wade bent his legs a little to look up with hope into Peter’s depressed gaze. “Right?”

Peter sighed, still burdened with guilt, and buried his face in his lover's shoulder. “Right.”

“See! So, let’s call them tomorrow after everything calms down okay? We just gotta give them time.” Wade made a big smile and pecked Peter’s cheek. The brunet couldn’t hold that glum expression any longer and finally smiled softly.

“Okay.”

“Great! Now, let’s move on.” With one hand resting on the small of Peter’s back, he used his other to grab his hand and he began to dance around the living room. Peter gave him a puzzled look, but the ghost ignored him and guided him in slow small circles while cheerfully humming an unfamiliar tune to himself. As the rhythm gradually got faster so did Wade, taking wider strides which Peter had no choice but to follow. He was stiff and awkward at first, but it was easy adapting.

“When you press me to your heart,” Wade sang softly in his ear. His voice rang through Peter’s bones, giving him goosebumps. He loved how every day he was able to learn something new about Wade--His favorite color was red, he loved romantic comedies, he likes bad puns and cheesy pick up lines,

I'm in a world apart
a world where roses bloom

he appreciated all genres of music, he loved painting, he had a freckle in his armpit, he had three distinct laughs, he loved the smell of baked goods, Guy Fieri is his favorite cook, he can tie a cherry stem in his mouth, 

and when you speak
angels sing from above

he loves christmas lights--the colorful ones, he can read a book upside down at an incredible pace, he specifically stated he was ambilateral and not ambidextrous, he can finish a 1000 piece puzzle in two days, and he can sing.

everyday words seem to turn into love songs
give your heart and soul to me

Peter smiled in his shoulder as he goes on with the list of fun facts in his head while Wade’s singing puts him at ease. The ghost began to slow down and he wrapped his arms tighter around Peter. The buzz in his body spiked, and he can feel himself get disoriented. But he held onto Peter as much as he could, ignoring everything for just a moment. He held on, rocking ever so slightly, and sang the last line of the song as delicately as possible.

And life will always be la vie en rose...

Wade gradually came to a halt and rested his forehead against Peter’s. He wrapped his arms around him higher and sighed into his neck. If only he was alive. If only he could hold him forever in the calm sunset; with the way the sun was setting and giving out an orangish pink hue, it felt too good to be true.

“I didn’t know you sing.” Peter whispered, raising his brows in surprise.

Wade chuckled. “It was the only thing that’d put Ellie to sleep when she was a baby. The little nugget refused to listen to anything but my singing voice.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Of course I do. She’s my daughter. Oh jesus,” Wade held Peter by the arms and pulled away suddenly. “I just realized something. What year were you born?”

Peter raised a brow. “In ‘91. I’m twenty-five. Why?”

“Oh dear,” Wade snorted. “My daughter was born in ‘71. She’s forty-five now. I can’t imagine what she’d think if she found out I’m with someone who’s forty-one years younger than me.”

“Well technically it’s eleven years because you died when you were thirty-six. Plus age is just a number anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if I was alive and in my sixties trying to hit on you.” Wade curled his lips inward over his teeth to mimic an elder. “Heya sonny, ya wanna get frisky?”

Peter broke out into laughter. “Well who knows. But I’m glad I have you now.”

“I know.” Wade kissed his forehead and guided Peter to the couch. They sat next to each other with their hands entwined. That’s all they ever seem to do nowadays--spend ridiculous amounts of time holding each other in silence. It still blows their mind that they could interact like this and feel for one another this much this fast. Ever since he woke up from the hospital, there was that nagging feeling of emptiness in Peter. But the moment he met Wade, that feeling changed. They clicked with ease like two puzzle pieces. It was almost as if...they were soul mates or knew each other in past life. Peter blushed at the thought, grinning like an idiot to himself. Soul mates...

Peter was the first to break the silence as usual. “What if...what if Ellie came here to talk to you?”

Wade snapped his head towards Peter with wide eyes, possibly considering the idea. But he turned his head and stared at the coffee table with a soft gaze. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve caused her enough pain already. It’s best if I stayed out of her life like I have been already.”

Peter frowned. “But you can explain everything to her. You--”

“Yeah I could, but Peter, you don’t know what it’s like being a parent. She has her mother who’s been there since the very beginning. I can’t just pop out of nowhere, especially if I’m dead. That wouldn’t be fair to her. I’m sorry, but that’s the one thing I won’t do. I won’t reconnect with my family. They already know I’m dead, and they’ve moved on. End of story.”

“I’m sorry…”

Wade squeezed his hand and turned to him. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. For the first time in thirty-six years I’m happy, Peter. I have you. You’re all I need to keep going.”

Before Peter could respond, Wade’s translucent appearance suddenly became transparent. The ghost abruptly stood up, but lost his footing and fell to his knees on the floor. The buzz in his body felt like pins and needles times ten, making him unable to move. Peter got off of the couch and knelt besides Wade.

“Wade, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He wanted to hold Wade to comfort him but his hands went right through him. He pulled his hand away when he felt an odd temperature. “Why are you so warm?”

“Oh this?” Wade managed to say through grit teeth. “I--uh, it’s been a really emotional day y’know? I think I need to rest for a bit.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look well at all.”

Wade waved him off. “It’s fine, babe. Honest. I’ll come back in a few, I just need to...recharge. Catch my breath--you get the idea.”

Wade gave him a quick ghostly kiss and was gone. Peter raised a brow at the peculiar behavior. This was the second time Wade would disappear so quickly--usually he’d warn Peter ahead of time. But it had been quite an emotional day, perhaps Peter was looking too deep into it...

 º•º•º

Wade stared at his hands. His entire body felt like it was waking up after a long time of being sleep--the pins and needles feeling was surging through his body like a raging river. The discomfort would come in waves, making him momentarily nauseous. On top of that, his temperature was increasing at an incredible speed. He ran into the pantry and hid in the darkest corner of the room. Hugging his knees as tight as he could, he tried to ignore the buzz as much as possible, but he was panicking too much.

“Fuck,” he quavered. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

As if on cue, a faint light flickered by the door of the pantry. Wade turned his gaze towards it, and a thin translucent layer of white covered the entrance. It glowed softly and gradually became brighter as the ghost approached it hesitantly.

Wade, a gentle voice called out. It seemed to be coming from the light. As the ghost drew closer, he extended his arm out to touch it and--

•º•º•

Peter woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Without lifting his head up from the pillow, he slapped the surface of his side table until he was able to grab it. He put the phone to his ear without seeing who it was and answered it with a muffled hello.

“Peter?” Aunt May’s voice made him bolt out of bed. He rubbed the sleep off his face and paced the room.

“H-Hi aunt May.” Was she going to yell at him? Lecture him? Threaten Wade?

But to his surprise she spoke softly and carefully, sounding absolutely harmless. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

“Um, er, I’m good, I guess? I just woke up. What’s going on?”

There was a brief pause. “Look, Peter. I just...I just wanted to tell you that your uncle Ben and I are okay with you and your boyfriend--Wade, was it? We were shocked at first, but to be honest with you I don’t have a problem with the two of you at all. We didn’t mean to act the way we did, we were just surprised and I know you’re doing your best to keep him safe. Like I said, I can't control where love goes, it just happens. So, I'm very sorry.”

Wade was right. They didn’t have any hostile feelings at all, they just needed time to digest everything. Peter smiled into the phone. “I’m sorry too, for snapping all of a sudden. Wade went through a lot already and I was just afraid for him. I'm not mad at you or uncle Ben.”

“Can we come over today?” Aunt May’s voice sounded hopeful. “I made your favorite pie!”

A warm feeling began to spread throughout his chest. “Of course, aunt May.”

Peter cheerfully skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding Wade at the table waiting for him. A bowl and a spoon were already laid out for Peter, along with his favorite cereal next to them. Wade looked like he was lost in thought for a moment, flinching at the sudden sight of Peter.

“Morning, Peter.” Wade said quietly.

"A very good morning to you too!" Peter beamed at him. He leaned down to give the ghost a quick kiss on the cheek. “Guess what? Aunt May just called me! You were right, they did need time to process everything, but in the end they’re okay with it! They’re gonna be coming today to--” As he spoke, Wade’s expression seemed to gradually fall into worry as he moved his gaze to his hands.

Peter’s sentence faltered and he raised a brow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wade flinched again, and smiled. But then it fell right after into a lost look. He clenched and unclenched his hands, staring back at them as if there was something written on his palms.

“Peter… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Chapter Text

This was it. Here it was--the moment Wade never thought would ever come true. For a time, it felt like this was his life until the universe ceased to exist. The mere notion of passing over was nothing but a fairy tale to him. There was no heaven or hell or reincarnation. Being stuck in this no man’s land, this purgatory--whatever you want to call it, Wade thought that this was his new way of living...and he was certainly content with it. He didn’t need anyone in his life but Peter. Peter was the only person that stayed, that cared. Peter Parker. All night after that...incident, Wade wondered if he’ll ever meet him again. Or if he’ll remember him.

Last night, what Wade experienced could not be put into words. He wouldn’t know how to explain it in such a way that would make sense. What he experienced were a series of emotions, colors, and flashes of images all at once, rolling in his head at such an incredible speed. When he touched the light, he wanted more of it. He want to drown in it. The warm sensation in his chest which he had felt for the past few days was the same feeling when he put his hand through the door. It engulfed him entirely, enticing him to walk further into the light. But it vanished without warning, leaving him in the middle of the living room.

When he went to check the time, hours had passed and Peter was already asleep. He stayed downstairs on the couch, trying to decipher what had just happened to him. But he already knew what the answer was. He could feel it. The pins and needles feeling rushed excitedly through his body, and for a moment, he could feel a hint of joy growing in his chest.

“Peter...there’s something I need to tell you.”

Whenever Peter heard that, it could mean either one of two things. One--Wade was just overreacting over something and when he comes out with it, Peter would just laugh it off and talk Wade back into his comforts. Or two--it really was serious, which, is rarely ever is. Not that Peter had ever dismissed Wade’s peculiar complaints, it’s just that nothing had ever been that bad where it would affect either of them.

Peter decided to go with the first option and flashed a small grin. “What did you break this time?”

Wade kept a stern look on his face, waiting for Peter to stop smiling, which he did after a long awkward second. The brunet cleared his throat and sat up straight.

“What’s going on?” he tried again more seriously this time.

Wade looked down at their hands nervously. “Um...this is a little hard for me to say. But you have to promise you won’t...freak out.”

Peter raised a brow. “I promise whatever you’re hiding won’t freak me out. Trust me.”

“I highly doubt that but okay.”

“You’re making me nervous like you killed someone. What’s going on Wade?”

The words were suddenly lodged in his throat, and he so badly wanted to wave it off and tell Peter, “Nevermind! It’s just a joke!” But it was too late. At this point, Peter would nag about it until Wade gave in. How would he even react to this? It was a good thing, wasn’t it? Before Peter lost his memory, he was all gung-ho about helping Wade pass over...well, until they started talking and getting close...

But this is what happens to dead people. These things are natural. Wade couldn’t do anything about it even if he tried. It was time. He didn’t know when or how--all he knew was that at any moment now, he could disappear. It would be over.

No more Peter.

Wade’s face scrunched up and he began to sob noisily, causing Peter to flinch. The brunet grabbed his face and tried to soothingly shush his lover.

“I-I’m sorry Peter.” Wade hiccuped. “I s-should’ve told you about it sooner.”

“Hey, calm down. I’m right here, look at me. Wade, look. It’s okay. Breathe.” Peter stood up halfway off his seat, leaning over the table to put Wade’s face in his chest. “Breathe. It’s okay. Take your time.”

Wade held onto Peter’s t-shirt as tightly as he could. He did as he was told, and tried to level his breathing as best he could until he was calm. He pulled away from Peter slowly and they both sat down; Wade was facing to the side, but Peter had his entire attention and self pointed at him.

“I…” The words were stuck. He was too scared. To ashamed. He didn’t want to lose Peter--please God don’t take me away from him, he silently begged. “Peter I’m…”

“Wade.” The ghost looked up finding Peter staring hard into his eyes. “Whatever it is you have to tell me, I promise you, I won’t get mad and it won’t change the way I think about you. Okay?”

The ghost nodded, feeling the stubborn tears wanting to force its way out of his eyes. “Okay.”

Peter nodded, then waited patiently. That’s what Wade loved about him--he was always patient. Always open-minded. Always full of love. He was gonna miss this. He was gonna miss their conversations, the small moments they shared together, the sound of Peter’s laughter. He was gonna miss it all.

Why now? Why, after things begin to finally settle down--after Wade finally finds his bits and pieces of happiness, why does something always intervene and ruin it all over again? Why? What did he do to deserve this kind of bullshit? Was this karma from a past life? Or was he just born an unlucky person?

Wade took a deep breath, then turned his head to Peter. He tried to imprint the image of this lovable person in his head so maybe, somehow, he’ll remember him in heaven or hell or in the next life.

“Peter, I’m...I’m passing over.”

º•º•º•º

People come, people go. But you learn new things about yourself and the world around you because of them--what you like, what you dislike. What to expect in a certain situation, how to handle it. Even if they’re there for just a small moment. For a just a sliver of time. They’re just as important as anything else, and they always will be because they helped shape you. They guided you, loved you in different ways, and then left.

How much more can the heart endure?

At first Peter didn’t know how to react. Passing over. Geez, what does that mean? He won’t see Wade again? Or does some deity grant occasional holiday for the spirits? A number of questions ran through his mind until none of them made sense. His brain malfunctioned, time stopped, and then--all at once, without thinking, Peter smiled as wide as he could.

“Oh!” He got up and pulled Wade into a bear hug. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

He let go and walked around the kitchen with his hands on his head, wearing a pleasantly surprised expression on his face. Wade just stood there, brows furrowed in confusion while watching the brunet circle the small kitchen.

“Peter…” Wade tried to approach him, but he kept zipping back and forth, looking for something to clean. He resorted to the toaster, rolling up the chord as neatly as he could twice, thrice, then a fourth time. Peter was panicking.

“Right, this is a good thing for you! I’m sure you’ve been wanting to pass over for a long time now. You’ve been waiting for thirty years right?--”

“Peter, wait a minute--”

“I mean, I’m happy for you. I really am. Sure we only knew each other for a couple months. We did have some fun times together, didn't we? I mean we didn’t get to do everything together--”

Wade reached out for him but Peter moved away to put the toaster on top of the fridge. Wade couldn’t read his emotions--they were all over the place. Peter was definitely panicking.

“There’s still so much we haven’t done, y’know? Like I wanted to roast marshmallows with you indoors, and you’d teach me how to sing, and I’d teach you how to paint, and I bought seeds the other say because I wanted to plant some indoor plants with you, I--” Peter was facing the kitchen wall now, pressing his forehead and his hand against it. Wade stood a few inches behind him, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder, but he just stood there--stuck.

“I don’t want you to go...” Peter whispered in a broken voice. “...I don’t want you to leave me...”

With that, Wade’s face scrunched up again, his chest aching painfully. He shook his head repeatedly, letting the tears run down his face. “I’m sorry Peter. I can’t...I can’t do anything about it.”

“Shit.” he snapped. He curled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the wall as hard as he could, making it echo through the house. He turned around and pushed past the ghost, heading towards the stairs.

Wade tried to grab him but the brunet yanked his arm away. “Wait, Peter--wait a minute!” 

“I need to be alone for a minute.” Peter’s voice was stern now; He was completely radiating with negative emotions.

“Noonono--Peter I don’t want it to end like this. Please stop walking--Peter!” The brunet ignored him and stomped up the stairs. He slammed his bedroom door, making the ghost flinch and hug himself. Wade fell to his knees and started to cry. “Fuck!”

Peter sat at his desk with his face buried in his hands. He was angry. He was sad. He was selfish. He shouldn’t have acted the way he did--he promised Wade he wouldn’t get mad. Yet there he was, absolutely frustrated and heartbroken.

Chapter Text

The two said nothing to each other for an hour. Wade would’ve let more time pass between them, but the silence was making him anxious; He wasn’t sure how or when he was gonna go, but he knew it was gonna happen soon. He had to do something while he still had time.

Wade took a moment to gather himself, then slowly made his way up the stairs. He stopped right before Peter’s door and pressed his ear against the cool wood. He listened, hearing faint sniffles. He put his head through to peek inside and found Peter slouched back in his desk chair, staring idly through the window above his desk in front of him. He occasionally rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms, stamping them into his sockets as if it’ll soak up the tears.

Wade frowned. He hated to see Peter upset, but he understood. He would stop this if he could--he’d do anything to stay in the world of the living with Peter until it was his time to die too, and then they’d be together forever after that. Wade wished it was that easy. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

He pulled away from the door and took a deep breath. If it was going to end like this between them, the least he could do was say goodbye and thank Peter for his help.

Wade walked through the door instead of opening it. Peter could hear his footsteps, but he didn’t stir. He just sat there, completely stoic as he daydreamed toward the window. Wade watched him carefully as he sat at the edge of Peter’s bed. He studied his emotions, feeling a hollow, and almost hopeless sensation gnawing in his chest.

How am I gonna say goodbye to him? He wondered. Later? Nice knowin ya? Thanks for the help, I guess? They went through so much together and Wade thought that there was more for them in the future--he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready for any of this. He never imagined they would be here in this situation.

Wade looked down at his hands and laced them together. While Peter continued to stare out the window, the ghost decided to break the silence first and let out whatever came to mind. He just needed this silence to break. He needed Peter to be with him.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat, but he spoke in a low tone. “Remember when we tried making a cake and you let me crack the eggs into the bowl, but I wasn’t strong enough to hold them so I ended up dropping them all over the floor?”

Peter said nothing, his attention still towards the window. It made Wade’s chest hurt. Please don’t ignore me, he silently begged. Please don’t be like the others. He took a deep breath and tried again, his voice slightly quavering.

“Remember when I’d try to scare you all week out of nowhere but you’d already know when I was in the room because you’d feel a sudden temperature change? Or the time I’d hide your keys on purpose and act like I didn’t know anything?” Wade dug his nail into the meat of his thumb, desperate to get a reaction out of him. Peter lived in the house for almost over a year, but they had been together for just a few months. With the countless moments they shared it felt like they’ve been together forever. But now, it felt like they weren’t together long enough--right when Wade was begin to believe he could finally start his life with Peter.

Peter suddenly chuckled softly, and the ghost’s eyes lit up. The brunet looked down at his hands and began to fidget. He still avoided Wade and the laughter died as soon as it came. Even so, Wade could feel a slight shift in his mood.

The ghost grinned, feeling hopeful, and continued. “Remember the time when we watched a horror movie and I got scared of a ghost scene and you looked at me like I was ridiculous and said, ‘Wade, you are a ghost!’ and then I wasn’t afraid of it anymore?”

The brunet chuckled again, but he was still crying again at the same time. He nodded assertively, trying to smile but the tears forced his face to scrunch.

“Yes,” he sniffed noisily and coughed occasional laughs as he recalled the memory. “Yes I remember that…”

 The laughter soon died down again, and silence was between them. Peter was looking at his hands again and continued to fidget with them. The ghost waited a second longer, hoping he would do or say something, but he didn’t. He could feel Peter’s mood falter. I don’t want it to end like this.

 “Hey…” Wade reached for Peter’s chair and gently rolled it closer to him. He spun the chair around until Peter’s legs were between his. The brunet had his hands covering his face, refusing to look at Wade. “Peter, please look at me.”

 Peter said nothing. The ghost carefully reached for one of his wrists and tried to pull it away from his face. He resisted initially, but after a few seconds he finally relaxed and Wade move the other one as well.

 Wade’s heart dropped at the sight of him; his eyes and nose were a harsh color of pink and completely swollen. He wore an absolute look of despair on his face, tears streaming on their own one after another. Wade had never seen or felt Peter so...sad before.

 “I’m sorry,” Peter choked. “I should be happy for you and I am, I just--”

 Wade pulled him into a tight hug, giving Peter another moment to let it out. The brunet wrapped his arms around him as hard as he could, crying into his shoulder. They stayed like that for a good minute, rocking each other side to side soothingly.

 Wade ran his fingers through the curls draped over Peter’s neck and held that spot firmly. He pointed his chin up and stared at the ceiling, feeling himself overwhelmed with emotions.

 “Do you realize what you’ve done, Peter?” he whispered hoarsely, trying to hold back the tears. “You saved me.”

 The brunet’s eyes widened. You saved me. He pulled apart from Wade and looked down; His temple pulsed with pain for a moment, then he remembered everything.

 “Hey auntie?” Peter called out from the register after a long contemplation. Aunt May was reorganizing the shelves in the Mystery aisle, humming noisily to herself. She peeked her head out from the aisle, still humming.

 “Yes Peter? Is everything okay?” she chirped.

 “Do you know anything about ghosts?”

 Aunt May rolled her eyes and waved him off. “What did your uncle feed that poor brain of yours this time?”

“It’s not uncle Ben this time, aunt May,” Peter got up from the register and followed her. “You see, my house is haunted. A ghost is able to move things around and I was even able to communicate with it--”

“That’s not a common ghost, Peter. That’s what you call a poltergeist. Your uncle is always blabbering about those damn things from all those t.v shows he’s watching. But there are so many mysteries in the unseen world and it could be dangerous, Peter--whatever it is. ”

“That’s true, which is why I wanted to know how I’d be able to find out for sure who’s residing with me and what I can do to help them move on.”

Peter slowly looked up into Wade’s soft blue eyes and smiled sadly. He remembered promising himself he would help Wade pass over...and he did it. He finally did it.

“I remember…” Peter whispered, his eyes lighting up. “I-I remember first feeling your presence...I remember everything Wade--I remember promising you I’d help you. I--”

Wade held his face and brought their foreheads together. He shut his eyes tightly and inhaled sharply. “You helped me find what I needed, Peter--love. And I’ve never felt so loved in my entire life because of you. I’ve never felt so happy and at peace in my entire existence. You made me realize that I matter. You--” Wade began to choke on his tears, and they were now both crying together. “You fuckin’ did it, Petey. You did it.”

Peter tilted his head and gently pressed his lips against Wade’s, holding it there to make the moment last as long as possible. Every kiss counted until it was time for Wade to go.

“I’m sorry I got mad--” Peter began, but the ghost pressed his thumbs to his lips.

“It’s not your fault, Peter. I would’ve reacted the same way if I was in your shoes. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters to me is that you’re with me until the end, okay? Promise me you’ll stay with me to the very end?”

Peter nodded furiously. “I promise.”

Wade pursed his lips and nodded as well. He buried his face in Peter’s shoulder and held him as tightly as he could, for as long as he could. He inhaled his scent slowly, trying to engrave it in his memory. Wade was happy but at the same time he wasn’t.

He was never going to see Peter again…was he? Thoughts of what-ifs swarmed in his head, but the front doorbell rang before he could fall into another bottomless pit of paranoia.

Peter flinched out of his arms and stumbled out of his room. He quickly wiped his swollen eyes and straightened his shirt while he quickly trotted down the small flight of stairs. “Shit, I forgot aunt May and uncle Ben were coming--are you ready?”

“I--yeah,” Wade rubbed his face with his palms as he followed him. “Yeah I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Peter looked worried, but Wade should be the only worried about him. Peter’s face was extremely sensitive when he went through emotions; when he was angry or embarrassed his entire face would go red. When he was turned on (Wade accidentally caught Peter wanking a few times when he had just moved into the house) his neck would be covered in vague pink blotches. When he cried, not only does he have blotches all over his face--but his eyes and nose would swell, making him look like he was just beaten up. Wade was afraid what his aunt and uncle would say about this.

“Yeah I’m sure. But eh, you look--” The doorbell rang again and Peter lunged towards the door.

“I’m fine--go take a seat on the couch and wait for me, okay?”

Wade grabbed his arm and studied him carefully. “If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready. Don’t force yourself.”

“I have to force myself to watch you go, so what makes the difference?” Peter snapped. He flinched at his own words and instantly looked apologetic. “...Sorry. I just want them to meet you before you go. Is that okay?”

 Wade let go of his arm slowly. Despite their chat not too long ago, Peter was still upset. Could it be, he thought. That I...in a way, was saving Peter? Wade smiled as genuinely as he could and briefly kissed cheek. “Of course it’s okay. Let them in already, I can sense they’re getting antsy.”

 Peter pursed his lips and nodded. While Wade made his way to the couch, the old couple bursted through the door the second he opened it. Aunt May had her arms full of the pie she promised she’d bring, and uncle Ben’s arms were spread apart and wide open for Peter. As always, their entrance was quite rambunctious and full of love. Wade watched from afar the way Peter’s relatives showered him with affection. It was something he was never able to have from his own family until he met Peter.

He's going to be fine, Wade concluded as he watched uncle Ben attempt to give Peter a noogie. He smiled softly at the heartwarming feelings, nearly at the brink of crying. The persistent pins and needles were suddenly getting stronger again.

Is this it? Wade thought tiredly--he was feeling oddly content at the same time. He looked at his hands and noticed that he was beginning to fade as usual. But instead of feeling the urge to fall asleep, a white light was slowly beginning to cloud his vision. He looked up at Peter, but he was trapped in a rapid conversation with his aunt and uncle who were repeatedly apologizing for yesterday. Wade could already tell he wasn’t going to be able to properly meet Peter’s relatives. It was too late.

 It’s time, the same voice Wade heard from the strange light the other day whispered faintly in his ears.

 No, Wade clenched his eyes shut, trying to overpower the unwanted light, but even that did nothing. Not yet, I can’t. I’m not ready!

 The ghost imagined the unseen and mysterious woman smiling sadly while she repeated her words again softly--

 It’s time…

It was no use. There was no way Wade was going to fight another moment with Peter. The ghost chuckled wryly to himself as he opened his eyes and bore his gaze at his dorky lover. I’m able to move on because I’m finally at peace, but without Peter... then what peace is there?

The light was getting stronger and closing in on the sight of Peter. Wade stood tall and clenched his fists. He shouted at the top of his lungs, though no one could hear him. Not this time. Not even Peter.

I love you Peter Parker, and nothing in the universe could stop me from being with you!

Wade started to panic as the light closed in on Peter’s smile, the thing he loved to see the most. His heart ached painfully and his eyes burned with tears--Wade didn’t want to move on. Deep down inside he knew he was ready, but he didn’t want to be. Peter faded. Aunt May and Uncle Ben faded. The house, the memories--everything gradually sank in the sea of white. There was no more Peter Parker.

I’ll find you, Petey. I promise! I’ll look for y--

1 Year Later…

“Thank you for shopping here, I hope you enjoy your books!” Peter carefully placed the secondhand books in a paper bag and handed it to the customer. Her son was pulling at her cardigan while she had her arm full of a slobbery two year old who stared at Peter with absolute fascination. He waved at the baby, but she turned her head the other way like a snob. The mother left quickly, and that was officially the last customer of the day. 

Aunt May had already put away the new arrivals and re-alphabetized all the books. She waited for Peter by the door while he closed up the register, watching him with concern.

“Peter, you about ready?” she called out from the entrance, her bags in hand. 

He briefly looked up as he organized the register area more than once already. He gave aunt May a quick smile before returning his attention to his little activity. “Yeah, go on ahead of me. I have to stop by somewhere before I go home.”

“O-Okay, well, please drive safely it’s been raining a lot lately. I don’t want you ruining your new car--or that head of yours again.”

“If only I lost my memory again,” Peter muttered under his breath. He sighed heavily and looked up at aunt May once more. “I promise I’ll be safe aunt May.”

For the longest time, Peter was angry. He was depressed. He felt lost. Peter wasn’t happy anymore. He soaked in self pity every day, hoping that Wade was playing a sick joke on him and that he’d be back. But even if he was, Peter would tell right away. He always felt Wade’s presence. Not having him around anymore didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel natural. There were no goodbyes or a single warning. Wade was there one second, and the next he was gone. It took Peter months to get over him--Wade was in a better place now. It wasn’t about Peter, as much as he wanted to be selfish about the situation, he knew it was too unhealthy to sulk over. Wade is in a better place now.

Peter finally decided to stop stalling and locked up the store. The sun was about to set, so he hurried to his car and began to drive to his destination. He occasionally glanced at the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat as he idly bit his thumb. He pondered on the idea for weeks, but he finally concluded that it would be good for him if he visited the cemetery. After all, the remains of Wade Winston Wilson were buried there.

“My dad use to try to convince me that flowers were for girls. But I couldn’t help but fall in love with them, flowers are beautiful.” Wade was laying on his stomach, stroking a petal of a chrysanthemum and trying to remember the texture of it. Peter was lying on his back, mesmerized by the sound of Wade’s voice and his words as he watched him. “I mean think about it, they come in different shapes and sizes and smells--they’re all beautiful in their own way. It’s fascinating--” Wade met Peter’s gaze, seemingly lost for a brief moment. “--just like you.”

Peter laughed at the memory as he signaled to turn to the cemetery parking lot. He missed Wade’s terrible puns. His bad timing jokes. His romantically lame banter. He missed Wade so much it hurt. We’ll see each other again, won’t we?

He grabbed the bouquet and jumped out of the car. The sun was sinking lower, nearly at magic hour. He quickly searched for Wade’s headstone, and found it after a few minutes right in the middle. It read:

Wade Winston Wilson
1944-1980

Peter felt bad that there weren’t any messages left on the stone for Wade like the others, but that really showed just how little the world cared for him. There weren’t even any fresh flowers left be for him--the other headstones seemed to kept up with daily--all except for Wade’s. Peter placed the bouquet in front of the headstone and sat down in front of it. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was dyed in various warm hues. Peter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The air was warm and soothing to the touch. It was such a nice day today, but today was also the day Wade left without a word.

“It feels kind of silly talking to a rock,” Peter started awkwardly. He fidgeted with his nails as he spoke, tracing Wade’s name with his eyes. “you're not even here anymore. But I don't know where else to turn to...”

Peter sat with Wade until the sun sank past the horizon, talking to him as if he were still here--and in a sense, it felt as if he sort of was. But Peter wasn’t there to reconnect with Wade--he was there to say his goodbye.

By the time he was done, magic hour was long gone and the moon was slowly rising. Peter stood up and lightly touched the top of the headstone. He took the last few moments, recalling that smile he loved seeing so much. 

-

When Peter parked in his driveway, he stayed in the car. Every day when he came home from work, he would expect Wade to pop up out of nowhere with some sort of surprise--”Look Peter! I was able to make coffee without your help!” “Look Peter! I’m able to hold a pencil again!” Peter smiled as he stared at window on the door. Sometimes he’d see the curtains move and find Wade waving excitedly at him. The lights would be on. Sometimes music would be playing. But the house was dark and absolutely silent. Peter said his goodbye, but his heart still ached. He frowned and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. As much as he wanted to move on, somehow he couldn’t. 

We won’t be able to see each other, will we?

It was beginning to rain, so Peter quickly got out of his car and ran to the front door. Once he got in, he had gotten in the habit of greeting the photo he took with Wade last year by simply touching the frame. He placed it right by the door on the side table so it’d be the first thing he’d see when he walked in.

As soon as he shut the door and was in the process of taking off his coat, a gray and white pit bull puppy came running down the stairs as he howled noisily. It missed a step and stumbled down the stairs until it landed on its face at the bottom. The dog simply stood up and shook it off, then excitedly ran towards Peter.

The brunet gasped and kneeled while opening his arms. “Winston! C’mere buddy!”

The dog leaped into his arms slobbered all over Peter’s face. For a small dog, it had a lot of strength, making Peter fall back and have no choice but to wait until Winston was calm again.

“Yes, I’m home, boy. You miss me? I miss you too.” He pet the dog all over and smooched the side of his head as he stood up. “You want dinner?”

The dog leaped as he understood those words and ran into the kitchen. Peter patted his clothes to get the dog hair off as he followed Winston--but then he suddenly stopped, feeling familiar chill to the air.

“Hello?” Peter’s heart dropped and he turned around. No one was in the living room with him, but he could feel it. He knew someone really was. Peter stood a few steps forward and wait for the chill to pass, but it persisted. “...Wade? Is that you?”

“Who’s Wade?” Peter yelped as a little girl appeared out of nowhere beside him. She giggled as Peter slipped and fell on his butt.

“Anna, damn it. Quit doing that!” Peter stood up and pushed passed her. For some reason after Wade left, a little ghost girl kept appearing at his his house. She was able to come and go as she pleased, but Peter never understood why she always came to him. “Why are you even here?”

Anna put her arms behind her back and twirled back and forth in her nightgown. “There’s gonna be a storm and I was wondering if I can stay here tonight.”

“Absolutely not. Go back to your grave.” Peter snapped while he prepared Winston’s food.

Anna popped up right beside him and peeked at him over the counter. “But won’t you be lonely? We can watch movies together. And play games?" 

“Where’s your mother?” Peter sighed. “Won’t she get angry?”

Anna frowned and looked away. “Mama passed over...this morning.”

Peter stopped what he was doing and finally turned his attention to her. He stared at her sadly, watching her pick at the hem of her dress. He was instantly reminded of Wade--how lonely Peter had been when he passed over. It was only a matter of time until it was his turn, and then maybe they’d reunite. Anna had nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn to. The living would sage their houses or call in a priest--it would end up hurting her and she was too vulnerable to live in the streets.

Peter patted Anna’s head, finalizing his decision. “You can live here.”

The little girl’s eyes lit up and turned to Peter. “Really?! You mean that?”

Peter knelt beside her and smiled softly. He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “We’ll do everything together until it’s your turn to pass over, does that sound good?”

The ghost girl beamed at him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Peter hugged her back and closed his eyes.

He wasn’t alone after all.

Chapter Text

The second Wade developed his own consciousness and was able to speak when he was little, his first word was “Peter” and he had this agonizing urge to search for him. Wade’s parents thought there was something wrong with him, and the doctor reluctantly suggested that their little boy could have had a past life. Unfortunately, in this universe, there was no such thing as a Peter Parker in the past, and this case wasn’t serious enough to get the officials involved in some sort of manhunt. So the parents and his doctor concluded that Wade just had a vivid imagination. None of it was real.

Wade grew up feeling hopeless to the point where he began questioning his own sanity. The memories he had of Peter were beginning to get blurry, and he couldn’t tell if these were made up or not.  So Wade moved on and lived his life. He eventually forgot about Peter and focused on himself; Compared to his supposed past life, he had a good thing going here. No cancer, no neglectful parents--Wade was happy. He got good grades from elementary school to college, and he was planning on becoming a firefighter. He met a girl whom he’d been dating for four years and even pondered the idea of marrying her one day.

Everything was going smoothly--until now.

On his way to class, Wade jogged up the dreadful stairs with his books tucked under one arm while he was texting his girlfriend with his other hand.

Vanessa: My parents want you over for dinner tonight. Can you make it?

Wade: Of course I can.

Vanessa: We can always eat at your place if you want.

While Wade was in the middle of replying, someone bumped into him. He stumbled backwards, dropping his books but he caught the rail in time. The person that ran into him tripped forward, facing a deadly fate with the concrete stairs below, so Wade acted quickly and grabbed their arm. He swung them around and threw them back where they came; they landed on their butt at the top of the stairs with a painful grunt.

Wade quickly trotted down the stairs to retrieve his books and ran back up to check on the person who was still on the ground.

“Watch where you’re going next t--” he abruptly stopped walking. The person on the ground looked oddly familiar. Messy brown wavy hair. Freckles. Thick rimmed glasses. No, Wade thought, it can’t be. The young man winced at the pain in his lower back and looked up apologetically.

Wade gasped and dropped his books. “ Peter ?”

He inched closer to him--he couldn’t believe it. After all this time, he was here. Peter was really here.

Peter frantically stood up and backed away, showing clear signs that he didn’t know Wade at all. The brunet looked apologetic and made a gesture with his hands, he tried to speak but his voice came out in pieces at a time. Wade furrowed his brows and confusion and watched Peter repeat the gesture--he pointed at his chest and then put his index finger from his ear to his mouth.

Peter was deaf...and Wade didn’t know how to sign.