End Of Beginning

Peter

The thing about grief is that it never goes away.

And the thing about death is that it’s permanent.

The thing about Peter is that he refuses to acknowledge either of these things.

He expected to feel fine after his day out with Wade. He had eaten, he was in an okay mood, cracking jokes and smiling, so he expected it to stay that way.

But when he woke up the next day, bone exhausted and stomach churning so hard he would gag whenever he opened his eyes, he realised that he was not fine. Peter had two sick days that he could take, which he called into work and gratefully used.

He was never going to use them otherwise, he never got sick after the bite.

Peter laid in his bed for two full days and stared at the corner. If he looked away he swore that he could see the outline of his aunt, but it would leave as soon as his eyes flicked back.

After May had first died Peter would call her at least three times a day, listening to her voicemail until he was roused from his mourning by the obnoxious beep indicating that he needed to leave a message. He never did.

One day, when he had called, the phone picked up on the third ring and he felt his breath catch in his throat. An elderly man answered. His aunt's number had finally been recycled.

He talked to the man for a bit, learned that this was his first cell phone and his granddaughter had helped him set it up.

Peter congratulated him.

He wanted to tell him about his aunt.

He wanted to yell at him for taking the number.

He wanted to throw his phone against the nearest wall and stomp on it until it shattered into a million pieces the same way he had that day.

He wanted to cry because now he wouldn’t be able to hear his aunt's voicemail. A voicemail that he would repeat over and over again in his head as a child as if it were a song, but now couldn’t even find himself remembering how it started.

Peter didn’t eat, but he also didn’t sleep. He just laid in his bed, wondering how long he would have to lie there before he fused with the mattress.

He listened to police radios, they were all filled with frantic yelling about Scorpion tormenting the city, how Daredevil was out fighting him the way he should be. But he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.

He had never felt this horrible. Not after his parents died. Not after Tony died. Not even after May died, so why, three years later, was he struggling to function.

By the third day of feeling like a zombie, he had to get up for work. His hair was greasy, eyes bloodshot and hollowed in with dark circles. His stomach rumbled on his way to work. He hadn’t eaten since Wade had taken him out for chopped cheese. The mere thought of eating a chopped cheese right now made him gag.

“Jesus Petey, you sure you should be here? You don’t look so good.” His boss said when he walked into the store. Peter loved where he worked, it always smelt faintly musty, and sounded alive with the buzzing of technology.

“Yeah I’m okay, the sick days helped.” He lied.

He was put on the front desk for the day, it wasn’t his favourite position but he enjoyed being able to see the hustle and bustle of the city out the store front.

His favourite place to work was in the back fixing broken technology, it was dark and quiet.

Peter sat in a rickety duct taped office chair behind the front desk, scrolling through and replying to emails. It had been quiet all morning, with only about two people coming in to pick things up. He would start packing up to leave soon.

The bell above the door chimes as it opens, the person that just entered walks over to the wall where they keep phone cases. It’s not a large collection, and the phone cases are pretty ugly but they work well at protecting phones. Peter had one on his phone that saved it from breaking the few times that he accidentally dropped it off of buildings while patrolling.

It was quite impressive really.

“Excuse me?” Peter’s neck cricks with how fast he turns his head.

Michelle Jones Watson stands in front of him, hands planted firmly on the countertop.

“Hi.” Peter squeaks out before clearing his throat. MJ raises her eyebrow. “Hi, how can I help you?” He rises from his chair to stand directly in front of her. He never got over the way he had to look up at her to maintain eye contact.

“My phone screen is broken.” She says, producing a phone from her back pocket. She places it screen up on the counter facing Peter and it lights up, presenting a picture of her and Ned as the lock screen. Peter feels his stomach flip.

A crack runs directly down the middle of her screen, separating the two.

“What happened?”

“Are you supposed to ask that?” MJ asks coyly.

No.

“It could help me figure out if there’s more damage. What if you dropped it into water when it broke or something.”

“If I dropped it in water I don’t think a cracked screen would be my problem.” MJ narrows her eyes at him and Peter is reminded of what it was like trying to talk to her in High School before they were friends. It was the exact same.

“Alright, you got me. You have a cracked screen, that’ll be about three hundred to repair.” MJ blows out a slow puff of air, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. She stares down at her phone.

“I mean. The crack isn’t that bad right?” She says looking over her phone.

“Right. But cracks in the screen can allow dust and moisture into your phone which would end up causing more damage.”

MJ glares at him and Peter smiles timidly.

“What kind of business are you running that is so desperate for a broke college student’s money?”

“What kind of broke college student are you to actually try and fix your phone screen.”

MJ smirks.

“Touche.”

Peter returns a bigger smile, turning away before it turns watery. He exits from behind the desk and walks over to the phone case wall. He feels more than hears MJ approach him, her familiar smell and warmth radiating off of her. Peter reaches for a screen protector and hands it to her.

“This is a temporary solution. It will prevent more cracks and hopefully block the dust and moisture that I mentioned earlier from getting in, plus it’s only ten bucks.”

MJ smiles, taking it from Peter as he hands it to her. Their hands brush and Peter quickly pulls away.

“Why didn’t you just mention this first.”

“Because I’m desperate for your broke college student money.” MJ’s lip quirks the way it does when she finds something funny, then she squints her eyes again.

“Do I know you?” Peter blanks. He’d been waiting for this moment for years. He had his note to MJ stuck to his fridge with a free college magnet, and has had it there since he wrote it, yet he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I don’t think so.” Is what he finally decides on saying, remembering exactly why he hadn’t given her the note in the first place. It was safer to keep her at a distance.

“No, I never forget a face, I totally know you.” Peter wants to laugh because she definitely didn’t remember him.

“I don’t think you do.” Peter replies, retreating back behind the counter to ring her up.

“What high school did you go to?” She asks, ever persistent. Peter sighs.

“Midtown.” He’ll give her that. She clicks her tongue.

“That’s it, we went to high school together.” Peter nods, ringing her up, trying to ignore MJ trying to read his scratched name tag.

“Peler Parkel?” She asks, looking up at him. Peter frowns looking down at his name tag.

Would you look at that, it looks like it says Peler Parkel

“Mhm, ten bucks.” MJ pays and then sticks out her hand for Peter to shake. He never remembered her being this outspoken.

“Michelle.” Peter shakes it with a tight smile. His hands were clammy and he saw MJ try to discreetly wipe her hand on her pant leg after. “I’ll be back if this phone protector doesn’t work, Peler.” She says, waving as she leaves.

Peter watches her walk away out the window before plopping back down in the office chair. It creaks with the force of him sitting in it. He buries his palms into his eye sockets, rubbing until he sees shapes behind his eyelids. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone. He had moved on, moved away from everyone, stopped trying to make friends, and yet everyone kept coming back to him.

“Pete, you’re good to leave now.” He hears his boss yell out from his office in the back.

His walk home is overwhelming, every little smell and sound putting him on edge. The polo shirt he wore for work rubbed against his skin uncomfortably, every fibre scratching him. He could feel the stitches in his back tugging at his skin with each step. He’s going to rip them out when he gets home.

He’s met with Matt Murdock leaning against his door when he gets up the steps. He turns back around to leave but Matt moves quickly and grabs his shoulder.

“Peter. Talk to me.” Peter’s nostrils flare with the force of his exhale. He shakes his head. “Peter, what’s going on? Please just come over.” His voice is desperate, pleading. Peter sighs and turns around. He doesn’t lift his head but he can hear Matt smile.

The two sit in Matt’s apartment drinking tea. Peter watches the billboard out the window. It’s so much more visible in Matt’s apartment. Matt simply stares at Peter, eyes flicking back and forth as if he’s analysing him. The right side of his face is a canvas of purple and green, the whites of his eye red in the corner due to a broken blood vessel. It makes Peter’s own eye’s water when he looks at it, so he looks at Matt’s eyebrows instead when they talk.

“He’s not going to be easy to take down Peter. I understand that superpowered people are more your strong suit but, and there’s no easy way to say this, I think you’re going to have a hard time.”

Peter scoffs.

No shit.

“I don’t know what’s wrong Matt, I’ve taken down people much stronger than him, hell I helped take down Thanos, so I don’t know why I can’t stop him.”

He felt weak, and he didn’t think he could admit it out loud.

“I’m only twenty, Matt, and I feel like I can’t do this anymore. I hurt, everywhere, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. These abilities, my abilities, I can feel them leaving me. I don’t know what I can do without them.”

“Without them you’re just a guy in a suit.” Matt says, smirking. Peter nods. “You do realise I’m just a guy in a suit right?”

“That’s different. You’ve had years of practice working as a guy in a suit. I used to have advanced suits and technology that could keep me going. My spidey-senses used to actually be able to warn me before something was going to happen.” Peter laughs sadly, shaking his head.

“Hell, I could feel my healing abilities trying to piece me back together when Thanos snapped. I didn’t feel any pain but I could feel my body trying to put itself back together, that was how I knew something was wrong. Now… now I need to rely on stitches and bandaids and fucking tylenol to get me up in the morning.”

“So do I, but I still get up. If this is an adjustment that you have to make, then no better time for it. I can help you. I will help you.”

Peter nods, drinking the last of his tea. It was soothing, some type of herbal tea that he had put a shit ton of honey into. The few loose leaves that had slipped out of the teabag were bitter and grainy in his mouth.

“Did you get stung by him at all?” Matt shakes his head.

“Couple of close calls but he doesn’t seem interested in wasting whatever he has on me. He asks about you a lot.”

“How sweet of him.” Matt snorts, shaking his head.

“So I heard your birthday is coming up.” Matt says changing the topic. Peter pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking down at it as his lock screen displaying the date.

“Huh, I didn’t even realise. Yeah I guess it’s in a couple of days.” Peter says, surprised.

“How do you usually spend your birthdays?” Matt asks.

“Um, I don’t know. I didn’t really celebrate them after my aunt died.” And it’s the truth, as sad as it is. Peter spent most of his birthdays contemplating whether to get sloshed or do some type of hardcore drug or maybe hookup with a stranger, and then instead would go to sleep at seven o’clock.

“Okay, well this year Karen wants to plan something for you, and I’m letting you know now that no matter what you cannot stop her.” Peter groans.

“Okay, fine, I won’t stop her, but I can’t promise that I’ll show up.”

“Oh c’mon, you have to show up, you don’t want to hurt Karen’s feelings do-” He’s cut off as he tilts his ear towards the window. Peter quickly turns to look as a car is chucked by.