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Peter hated hospitals.
He had never liked them, with their endless white walls, antiseptic smell, and overly bright lights. He couldn't stand them. He also couldn't stand what they represented, and he didn't know how long it would take them to leave that place and return home, pretending that everything was fine.
This was one of the thoughts running through his head as he raced toward the Forest Hills hospital. As soon as he received the call informing him that May had fainted and hit her head, his world stopped. To hell with J. Jonah Jameson. He had already gotten the money for the photos and couldn't waste another second.
His disgust didn't stop him from running as fast as he could. He didn’t stop to listen to the angry drivers yelling at him to get out of the way. He didn’t stop when his lungs started to burn or when his heart did a strange flip—not from exhaustion, but from uncertainty. He couldn't bear to have any more doubts. Not with his only family. Not when things seemed to be getting back to normal after so much suffering.
The hospital doors creaked a little from the force with which he opened them. They couldn't blame him—it was his aunt they were talking about. His spider sense was acting erratically, and as a result, his senses were going haywire. He could hear everything; from a child crying several blocks away to the sounds of the city’s sewer system. The constant rubbing of his clothes against his skin was unpleasant and overstimulated him even more.
“Maybelle Parker.” He was out of breath and almost tripped. “My… my aunt,” he clarified, fumbling for his ID. “I was told she's here.”
The startled receptionist showed him how to get to May’s room after he completed the necessary paperwork. She tried to talk to him more, but Peter didn't stay to listen and thanked her before rushing up the stairs; the elevator was too slow for his liking.
No one paid attention to the brown-haired nineteen-year-old boy running up the stairs two at a time. They were too busy with their own affairs to notice the chaos that was Peter's head at that moment. A million scenarios flooded his mind, none of them offering a glimmer of hope. He wouldn’t rest until he could see for himself that he wasn't going to lose Aunt May too.
One of the nurses he passed didn't seem at all surprised to see him running, she was probably accustomed to it thanks to her profession. That didn't stop her from telling him to slow down. Embarrassed, he apologized and asked for directions. The lights were already making him dizzy, and soon, the smell of disinfectant would too. He wanted to find the right room before he collapsed into a chair.
***
Peter hated hospitals, but seeing May in her current state was even worse. After some time and a little persuasion, they finally let him in to check on her.
Seeing her asleep in a bed surrounded by machines made her look older than she was.
This wasn't the first time they had rushed to the hospital because of her health. Old age brought problems like that, and he knew it. But that didn't mean he was going to get used to it anytime soon.
He pulled up a chair next to the bed. After taking a deep breath to let the adrenaline leave his body, he checked the time on the TV. His phone’s battery had been dead for a long time. He hadn't been able to charge it before leaving.
Peter did not have a good relationship with death. He hadn't since he had to deal with it as a child.
Years had passed since the death of his parents, but he remembered the day they promised to return with a gift to apologize for their absence. Yet, they never came back alive. They had fought that day. It was the same childish complaint he always made when they traveled far and left him with his aunt and uncle because they couldn't take him with them. But it didn't matter anymore. They were dead, and Peter couldn't apologize. He couldn't say goodbye. He couldn't see their faces one last time at the funeral either because their faces were so badly disfigured, making them barely unrecognizable.
At first, he was angry with them. How could they break their promise? How could they leave him alone like that? Now, he has made peace, or so he believes, with their deaths. This became more apparent after he learned that his parents were secret agents who did everything they could to protect him.
This seemed quite ironic to him now because one way his five-year-old mind dealt with the trauma was to imagine them as super-secret spies who were on a mission who couldn't tell anyone about it.
After Uncle Ben’s death, he became an unbearable kid. Knowing he could have prevented everything that happened that night made him lose himself in a way that he didn't want to relive. Not again. Never again.
Sometimes he wondered if putting on the mask was a mistake. Was becoming Spider-Man really worth it? Perhaps everything that happened afterward could have been avoided if he had never taken on the role of Queens’ “protector.” Over time, he learned to bear the guilt he had felt all those years since childhood.
Some days he felt selfish. Being Spider-Man meant he didn’t have to deal with the same things Peter Parker did. He reached a point where being Peter Parker seemed like a terrible idea. Peter’s civilian persona had its own problems, and Spider-Man became his shield whenever things got too difficult. Which was almost every day, honestly. He knew he had a problem with avoiding stressful situations, but he wasn’t going to lie and say he was trying to improve. He wasn’t trying at all. The mere idea of dealing with emotional problems made him back down almost as soon as they arose.
He tried to ignore the thoughts threatening to consume him and focused all his attention on the soft, steady, slow beep of the monitor next to him. Although he could hear May’s heartbeat directly, the small black screen next to the bed calmed his nerves by confirming that she was okay. He continued stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, letting her know he was there, waiting for her.
Peter didn’t leave her side for the rest of the visit, afraid that she might disappear if he took his eyes off her for even a second. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her too. He still needed her. Hours earlier, Peter had promised her that everything would be all right.
***
“Fortunately, she didn’t suffer any serious injuries, but she did have a concussion and is currently in a delicate condition.”
That was all Peter could think about when he got home and went straight to bed. Peter wasn’t there. He wasn’t there for his aunt when she needed him most, and the guilt was eating him alive. He was too tired to cry. Eating was no longer an option; he couldn’t move—his body was numb.
The idea of giving up Spider-Man wasn’t new.
Giving him up seemed as selfish as not doing so.
All he could do was pray for May’s well-being and try to silence the outside world. Even if it was the last thing he did.
Was that too much to ask?