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Loneliness was a bone-deep ache that Peter knew all too well.
It was for the best, of course, that nobody knew him; it was either that or his universe tearing apart. But god did it hurt nonetheless.
He tore off his mask and buried his face into his pillow.
The closest he could get to Ned and MJ was stalking their social media like a total weirdo. He'd never get to see them, to be in their lives, again. But they were happy, and they were safe, and that mattered more than his feelings.
It was days like these that were the hardest. Days when all he could do was lay in his bed, staring at his dust-coated walls, and wonder what it was all for.
It was days like these that he wondered if anyone would ever care about Peter Parker as much as Spider-man ever again.
His gaze drifted towards the bathroom, the ajar door revealing a pill bottle laying on the sink.
Who was left to care?
Peter stumbled to his feet and padded over to the bathroom door, staring for a few seconds, before entering and grabbing the little bottle from its place.
Nobody. They've all died or forgotten.
New York would be fine without Spider-man. There was Daredevil, and Frank, and...
Frank. Frank cares.
But did he? The guy hardly knew him as anything more than a pain in the ass. Peter grabbed his phone from his pocket with his free hand and opened his contacts list, staring at the screen. There was only one.
Frank.
He said to call him if he needed anything urgent, but Peter was pretty sure he meant the 'imminent danger' kind of urgent, and not some stupid episode.
Glancing down to the pills, he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.
Frank probably wouldn't pick up anyways. If he didn't, then he could take that as one last sign from the universe that really nobody cared anymore.
He pressed the contact and listened to the line ring.
Once.
Twice.
"What do you want?" A tinny voice came from the phone. Well, I'll be damned.
"Hey, Frank."
"I told you to use this line for emergencies."
Peter swivelled around and started pacing his little apartment, not sure what else to do with himself. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, I'll, uh---" He couldn't help the way his voice broke, tears stinging his eyes. "You're right, sorry to bother." He reached up to wipe at his face, the pill-bottle rattling from the movement.
"Kid, are you in danger right now?"
He was about to lie; it would've been so easy to. But that gruff voice was laced with so much concern, and Peter hadn't heard anyone sound like they cared about his wellbeing in years. He stumbled over his words for a few seconds, and that moment of hesitation was enough for Frank.
"Send the address, I'll come to you."
"You don't need to do that."
"Yeah, I do. Send the address."
Peter sighed. He was going to regret this. But he complied, anyways, and was going to hang up when Frank insisted he stay on the line. He wondered if Frank knew what he was planning.
Sitting on the floor and leaning against his bedframe, he listened to the sound of traffic coming from his phone. Every so often, Frank would swear and then he'd hear a car-horn blaring in the background.
His enhanced hearing picked up the moment Frank entered the building, and he held his breath as he heard the man running up the stairs. No more than 30 seconds later, a loud knock sounded.
"Open up, spider-boy."
Peter briefly considered hastily chucking on his mask, but he wasn't even sure if he'd make it through the night, so did it really matter? He pushed himself off the ground, leaving the pills on the floor next to the bed, and walked over to the door.
Frank barged into the room as soon as it unlocked, looking Peter up and down as if to make sure he was really there, and doing a double take at his maskless face.
"Huh. You look exactly like I expected."
He narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That you look twelve. And like you're going through a midlife crisis. C'mon, I brought you some soda."
The man pushed past him and looked around his apartment. Peter cringed, knowing it certainly wasn't the prettiest. There were cobwebs everywhere, what little clothes he owned lay discarded haphazardly on the ground, and worst of all, the pills were still in plain sight. He knew the exact moment Frank spotted them; he kept his composure well, but his heartrate sped up noticeably.
"Frank, I swear it's not what it---"
"Don't make any promises you can't keep. I think this is exactly what it looks like."
He kept his eyes on the ground, shoulders slumped. "I shouldn't have called."
"And then what? I don't hear from you for a month, some douchebag visits your apartment when you miss your rent, and then the great Spider-man's rotting corpse is found?" Frank scowled at him. "I don't think so."
"I had it handled."
"Yeah, I can see that." He gestured to the bottle.
"Why'd you bother coming if you're just gonna be a dick!?" He was yelling, now, but his voice was far too pained to sound intimidating.
"Because I fuckin' care about you, moron!"
"Well, you have a weird way of showing it."
"I get that a lot." He walked over to the bed, leaned down, and grabbed the pill bottle, whistling as he pocketed it. "This is the good stuff, huh?"
"You can't just take that."
Frank scoffed. "Well, I just did. I can't be sure you won't down the whole thing as soon as I leave, and thats a risk I'm not gonna take."
He crossed his arms. "What would it matter?"
"What would it--- Jesus, kid, you're young. You've gotta whole life ahead of you, I'm not gonna let you just throw that away."
Peter walked over to his bed and sat himself down on top of the blanket, legs crossed. "I threw it away the moment I made a deal with Doctor Strange."
"What kinda deal makes you live like this?" He gestured to the room around him.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Dunno. According to Red, the words of a dying man are treated as the truth. Less incentive to lie, I guess."
"I'm not gonna die."
"Oh yeah?" He held out the bottle and shook it violently, glaring at Peter. "Tell me that you weren't gonna kill yourself if I didn't pick up that damn phone."
"Frank, I---"
"Yeah, you can't. You can't say it! So tell me why. Tell me why I was about to lose another kid." To anyone else, Frank would sound furious, but Peter knew the man was terrified. He deserved at least a little of the truth, even if he thought Peter was full of shit.
"There was some weird magical fuckup that I caused by being a complete dumbass. The only way to fix it was to make everyone forget who I am," he muttered, looking away and wringing his hands. "It's like I never existed. Everyone I love--- the only people I have left, I have to stay away from because they don't remember me."
Frank was silent for a moment. "So, what, you've been doing this shit alone since then?"
He looked up and stared wide-eyed at the man. "You believe me?"
"Wouldn't be the weirdest thing that happened. Answer my question."
Peter nodded. "It's for the best I stay away."
"I'm not so sure about that, kid. I mean, look at you. My buddy Curt has vets in his group who look more alive than you do."
"Jeez, thanks." He let himself fall onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Really, I shouldn't have called. I would've been fine."
"That's a lie and you know it."
"Maybe." He sighed. "But now everyone who cares is dead or doesn't remember me."
"Bullshit. You have me."
Despite himself, Peter barked out a laugh. "Yeah, sure. The Punisher, known for his kind and caring nature. Really appreciate it, Frank."
"Yeah, well I had people I cared about, until they all died in front of me. And now I'm here, because I was about to lose you too."
He wasn't sure what to say to that. He remembered hearing stories about Frank's family, but he never brought it up to him. Frank continued. "You don't have to be alone, kid. You don't have to isolate yourself 'cause of some stupid spell. You don't have to do this."
Tears welled up in his eyes and Peter couldn't blink them away. His vision was blurry, but he could see an expression bordering soft on Frank's face.
"They're all dead or gone because of me."
"Not me, kid. Never me. You got me, okay?"
"It's Peter. Peter Parker."
He swore he saw Frank smile. "Okay. We'll fix this shit somehow, Peter."