Now I'm down to my skin and bones
My baby listens to me on the phone
But I can't help feeling like I'm all alone, all alone
The truth is, the stars are falling, babe
And I'd never ever thought that I would say
I'm afraid of the life that I've made, I've made

*

{4 years ago}

Ben had decided that I needed some guy time. Some time without May and without school and without my nerdy science obsessions. He wanted me to go be a guy. Be one of the guys.

He allowed me to invite my best friend with me once I had told him that he wasn't obsessed with science like me.

Ben was also bringing along some work friends and their kids for us to hang out with.

Ben was happy that I had a friend that I spent time with, but he didn't enjoy that we spent most of the time hanging out in our bedrooms. I would read and he'd play video games. Sometimes I'd read for him. Sometimes I'd help him with homework. It helps me feel good to work. Even though I'm not one of the guys.

Neither of them were happy that my closest friend was 4 years older than me either. It wasn't ideal. But they finally shrugged it off once they saw how close we were.

When we got to the camp grounds, everyone else was already there and a weird sense of jealousy came over me when I saw my friend talking with all the other boys. I had to remind myself he wasn't mine just because he was my best friend.

"Hey, everyone!" Wade shouted, face lighting up in a grin when he spotted me. "This is my best friend, Peter!"

Even though Wade was already 16, he fit in perfectly with all of us middle schoolers.

I waved shyly, already feeling anxious around the group of people. Ben had been greeting all his other friends as they got some fishing equipment set up.

Somehow, Wade spotted my nerves, knowing my ticks and signs, and said he was going to show me around, linking elbows with me.

I had no choice but to follow him through the forestry, admiring the nature around me, though I had only been thinking about how much I prefer to be in my own bedroom. I was a hermit crab. Still am. I like my safety room. I don't like leaving my safe place.

We arrived at a small clearning that turns off into a secret entrance to the lake, a ways away from the rest of the people.

"You didn't have to do that. I know you like people," I mumbled, shuffling awkwardly on my feet.

He slung an arm around my small shoulders and grinned like he just got given the best news. "I like hanging out with you, pumpkin. Not just anyone gets my attention. Not like you."

This was before Deadpool. Before Spider-Man. Before all of that. Wade still had his wonderfully quirky eyebrows and long, dark eyelashes, and short soft hair. Smooth skin, without the rough planes of scars. He was still big though. Muscular, tall, broad. Intimidating especially to me, barely 5'4, scrawny, anxious.

"Thank you," I murmured, blushing softly.

"Anything for you, petey-pie," Wade said, smirking and tightening his grip on my shoulders as he led me towards the lake. "Wanna go swimming?"

"Uncle Ben's gonna be upset if I don't bond with the other boys. He says I'm too up in my head. Says I need to learn how to be a man, y'know? Football, fishing, play fighting, beer, the whole thing. Says I need to stop reading once in a while," I explained, though my whole being just wanted to go swimming with Wade and forget about all the other kids. I didn't want to talk to them.

"That's dumb. You shouldn't do what other people tell you to," Wade said, already tugging off his shirt.

"It's true though. I've had the periodic table memorized for years and I don't even know the rules for touch football," I argued, not wanting to disappoint Ben. In hindsight, maybe I should've sucked it up and bonded with Ben and his friends. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty now that he's gone.

"So what? You're smart, Peter. You're smart and you're funny and you're so fucking kind. You don't need to play football to be a man. Come on!" Wade wasn't taking no for an answer so I pulled off my shirt and jeans, almost stumbling when my jeans got stuck on my socks and shoes.

Finally we were left in just our swim trunks, facing the lake as the water sparkled from the light of the sun.

I grabbed Wade's hand, eyes wide with excitement as he pulled me into a running start towards the lake.

We ran the length of the dock, hand in hand, laughing in excitement as the water got closer and closer. We reached the edge and I gave Wade one finally look, both of us grinning like maniacs and we jumped.

I finally let go of Wade's hand to block my nose as the cold water rushed over me.

When I got back to the surface a few moments later, I saw all the boys racing for the water as well, ignoring their parents calling after them. Uncle Ben stood amongst them, lips turned up in an obvious smile.

"He's proud of you," Wade said, making me jump at the proximity.

"I know. I just don't know why."

"Because you're happy."

And that was probably the last time I was truly happy.

*

I carefully put the memory back into place. It's a Polaroid of that day. Of me and Wade, smiling and laughing in the lake. More carefree than I've ever been.

I have a small shoebox hidden under my bed of secret memories. Jason took everything he could find like the picture frames on my desk and the little souvenirs and trinkets around my room after May died. I was able to save just a few items to keep for days like today, where I'm more nostalgic than ever.

I miss the old me.

The old me who would laugh loudly and ramble like no tomorrow. The old me who would smile at everyone and everything and joke about everything. The old me who was happy and carefree.

Now I'm this broken shell of the person I used to be, all the wonder beaten out of me thanks to Jason.

There's only a few things in the box. The photo from the day at the lake, taken by Ben is the first.

Second, is a bottle of perfume. It was May's. She'd wear it whenever her and Uncle Ben would have a date night. She never wore it after Uncle Ben passed away and she never noticed when I stole it from her closet to keep as a reminder of a time when life was batter. It's simple, almost too simple, but it's so May. Stella McCartney Stella. Roses and summer smell.

Third is a pen. It's a nice pen, I guess, and to anyone it would look dumb, but it's the only keepsake I've got of Dad's other than some computer files. It's worn out and barely has any ink left in it, but it's a good reminder to keep around, I guess. I just don't have the heart to let it go.

And finally is a another picture. This ones a little bigger than the first and the edges are worn. It's Mom, Dad, May and Ben when they were younger. May and Ben's wedding. I wasn't born yet. They're smiling in the grainy image. Mom has her arm around May, sparkly eyes lifted to the ceiling as she holds out a glass of red wine. May's kissing Ben's cheeks, a blush left in her lip's wake. Her glass of wine is left on the table in front of them along with Ben's. Uncle Ben is rolling his eyes at something Dad had said, but a smile on his face nonetheless. One arm around Dad, the other around May. And Dad's laugh, caught in the middle of it, eyes crinkled at the edges and the bags under his eyes finally disappearing. His glass of white wine is about to clink against Mom's. It's surreal that now, just a mere 18 years later, not a single person from the photo is alive, despite them being so young.

I hear the front door of the apartment open and I quickly push the shoebox back into its hiding place, replacing the blankets to cover any sign that it's there. I hurry back to my desk, opening my math textbook to pretend I was studying.

"Get out here!" Jason exclaims, anger lacing his tone.

I do as told, knowing I'll just make it worse if I disobey.

"What the fuck is this?!" Jason demands, gesturing to the sink.

A bowl. I had cereal for breakfast. It sits in the sink, the single dish.

To anyone else, it would mean nothing. It would be normal. You clean the dishes at the end of the day.

But this is breaking 2 rules. I'm not supposed to eat. Not at home unless Jason gives me specific instructions to. And I left a mess. I left my bowl in the sink. There's evidence that I've existed outside my bedroom.

He's pissed. He's pretty obviously powder as he drags a hand through his choppy blond hair, glaring down at me.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think you were going to be home for another couple hours. I just- I thought- I forgot- I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," I choke out, panic closing me in.

"You're sorry?! Do you think sorry really cuts it?!" He exclaims, throwing his arms up in anger. "You're such a fucking failure! I can't fucking believe I've been stuck with you! I fucking hate you!"

With his words, he backhands me across the face, and my body shuts down. Spidey-senses screaming, but nothing making me dodge or fight back. Fear rooting me in place.

His work boots hit my body over and over and over again, breaking the ribs inside me and making my stomach twist and tighten, wanting to throw up. I cry out in pain when another rib snaps, the noise echoing throughout the room. The hot tears race down my cheeks as I sob, curling in on myself.

I choke out quiet apologies and pleas to be left alone, to be forgiven for my failures.

He yells insults at me as he kicks my body, breaking me down mentally and physically at the same time.

"You're fucking pathetic. I'm going out for the night. Make yourself useful and clean up your fucking mess. Don't tell anyone about this or I will fucking kill you and your fucking girlfriend," he snarls, kicking my once more before stalking out.

I let out a broken sob when the door slams shut, curling tighter on myself, but I know the problem with broken ribs and my healing factor. The ribs could set in the wrong places, potentially hurt my lungs.

"Shit," I groan, taking my time to drag myself to my feet.

My body screams in protest, as I use the counters to hold myself up. I can barely straighten my back without pain racing through my stomach and ribs.

I groan again, gasping quietly in pain as I struggle to pull the breaths into my lungs.

I need help. I need an x-ray to see if my ribs are broken or just fractured. Whether they're out of place or not.

My body aches in protest as I stumble towards the bathroom, vision blurring miserably. I know I've gotta get the bowl cleaned up unless I have a death wish, but currently I'm more worried about the warm blood I can feel smeared across my stomach.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I groan again, pulling it out. It takes a few seconds to get my vision to clear enough to read the name. I've got a few missed texts as well.

Gwen: do you have the math homework from Wednesday?

Gwen: Peter? You never take this long to answer?

Gwen: hey text me back. I'm worried.

Me: sorry yeah gimme a minute

Me: *Picture attached*

Gwen: thanks

I'm about to send a text back when the world very suddenly goes dark and the floor rushes towards me.

*

When I wake up, my head is spinning. It's already dark outside, at least a couple hours later.

My body is still aching and I struggle to pull in every breath. It's worrying to say the least. I don't want to have permanent damage from what happened.

I cough, whining at the pain that races through my chest, but the issue is the blood splattered across the floor. Great, more to clean up.

Coughing and trembling, I drag myself back to my feet and cross my bedroom, fishing my suit out from the hidden space in my closet.

I change slowly, head still spinning terribly.

"Hey, Karen. I needa know how bad this is," I say, voice barely above a whisper.

"4 small lacerations on the stomach, bruising almost everywhere on the torso, 3 broken ribs, internal bleeding," she informs.

"Will it heal by itself? Or do I need help?" I ask, sitting down on the bed and hunching over myself, panting at the never ending agony.

"The bruising and lacerations will heal fine. The ribs should be alright, but the internal bleeding is a little bit more concerning. I suggest calling Tony Stark."

"If I do, can you swear you'll tell him it was from patrol? He can't know," I choke out, crying out as another spike of pain floods through my lungs.

She hesitates. An AI hesitates before responding, "I promise. Though I do recommend the opposite. He cares about you, Peter."

"I know, I know. I just- I can't lose him too. I can't lose everyone. I can't bear it. I just- I can't. Call Mister Stark. Please," I mumble.

"Calling Mister Stark."

"Hey, kid. What's up?"

"I need- I need some help. Some medical attention. I don't think I can swing to the tower," I choke out, hugging my stomach tightly.

"Okay, kid. Okay. Where are you? Hold tight."

"Home. At the apartment."

"Okay. I'll be there in 10, Okay?"

I nod despite him not being able to see, a sense of relief falling over me. I'm getting help. It's going to be okay.

____
Whoops sorry this sucks lmao

Lyss