End Of Beginning

Peter

Well, Peter didn’t have a wardrobe anymore. Or a bedside table. Or a super fucking comfortable La-Z-Boy. He felt bad for Matt, who probably heard him yelling and smashing everything.

Shit, everyone in the building probably did.

So now he had a hole in the wall, with nothing to patch it with, and wooden fragments of furniture with no broom to sweep it up with.

He took a nap. It was a good nap, a really really good nap. He ended up sleeping for almost six hours, and woke up sweaty and disoriented. He decided to pick up the wood fragments by hand, tossing them all in a garbage bag together. He gave up after he had stuffed three separate garbage bags so full that they were close to bursting. The wood poked sharply at the plastic of the bag, stretching it and warping it.

He tossed the bags into his kitchen, the wood clinking together as the bags hit the floor. Peter used the rest of the loaf of bread he had to clean up the tiny slivers of wood from the floor.

Once his aunt was financially comfortable enough to waste the end pieces of bread loaves, she would use them to clean up tiny pieces of glass, sick of always stepping on them after their ratty broom wouldn’t clean it up.

He pressed the pieces of bread to the ground, moving it around with his foot while snacking on a slice. It had gotten a bit stale and Peter probably wouldn’t eat it anyways. The couple pieces left in the bag did a good job of picking up the smaller wood fragments, but then Peter was out of bread.

He chucked the bread into another garbage bag and then continued picking up wooden pieces. He was starting to feel overwhelmed by the mess he made, regret making itself comfortable in his stomach.

He ended up stacking the few pieces of clothes he had on his kitchen counter. He never really used it for cooking anyways.

By sunrise he had cleared a small path from his door to his kitchen and bedroom, pieces of wood that he had yet to pick up kicked and scattered to the side.

He opens his phone, checking news today about Scorpion. He had hoped they would maybe take him to the raft instead of some other so-called maximum security prison that they had taken him to before. That he had somehow escaped from twice. He almost chokes on his spit when he’s met with the headline Macdonald Gargan, ‘Scorpion’, Decapitated. He didn’t do that, there’s no way he did that.

He quickly dials Wade’s number.

“Hey sunshi-'' Peter cuts in.

“Wade what the fuck.” He yells into the phone. He hears Wade whistle on the other side.

“Wow Petey, those are some big boy words.”

“Shut up.” He regrets saying it as soon as it comes out of his mouth. “Sorry, don’t shut up, just listen. Why did you kill Scorpion?”

“I had to make sure he wasn’t going to get to you again, plus he knew your identity.” Peter paces his room, kicking pieces of wood out of the way as he goes.

“Yeah, but Wade, you literally stopped me from trying to kill him.” He hears Wade scoff.

“Did you really think you would kill him?” Peter opens his mouth and then shuts it.

“I don’t know, maybe, he was pissing me off enough.”

“M’kay, I don’t think you would have done it. And, hypothetically speaking, if you did somehow punch him hard enough to kill him or something, theres no way you’d be able to live with it.”

“Sure I would.” Peter argues.

“No, Pete, you wouldn’t. I don’t know you very well but I know Spider-Man, and he wouldn’t be able to live with it. The first time we saw Gargan you were the one stopping me from killing him, it shouldn’t be the other way around. You need to manage your anger, because as hot as it is, who knows who you’ll blow up on next. You could end up killing a simple villain of the week all because he said something that got under your skin.”

Peter sighs. He hates when Wade is right. It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does he hates it.

“I want the old Spidey back.” Peter nods, agreeing.

“Yeah, so do I.” He stops pacing and flops back on his bed, pulling tiny slivers of wood out of his socks.

“Then do something about it. You’re the only one that can bring back the old Spider-Man.”

“When did you get so wise Wade?”

“I’ve always been this wise. Wise as a snake, harmless as a dove or something.” Peter furrows his brows, once again confused by a phrase that Wade said.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, something from the Bible.” Peter nods and then is quiet for a moment.

“Hey Wade.” Wade hums. “Could you help me patch up the hole in my wall sometime this week.”

“Sure thing. Need help with any other holes.” Peter hangs up on him.

~~~~~~

He couldn’t find his mask. He had hoped he would find it after Wade helped him clean up his apartment but it was nowhere in sight. He had the rest of his suit, the top, bottom, gloves and boots, but he couldn’t find his mask.

He had been drifting off to sleep about three days after losing it when he shot up out of bed. He left it in Matt’s apartment.

He clambers out of bed, shoving his converse on his bare feet before exiting his apartment. He left the door propped open, it was later in the night and he didn’t have anything of value to worry about getting stolen.

He reaches up to knock on Matt’s door but it swings open, leaving his fist suspended in the air. Matt is in sleep clothes, glasses off his face. Now that Peter thinks about it he isn’t sure if he’d ever seen him without something covering his eyes before.

“Finally done having a tantrum?” Matt asks. He had been sleeping, his voice gravelly.

“Yeah, yes, sorry you had to hear that.” Peter says, trying to look past Matt to see if he can see his mask.

“Do you have any pieces of furniture left that you didn’t break?” Peter nods. “Are you here to talk?” Peter shakes his head and Matt moves to close the door. Peter shoots his hand out, stopping him.

“Do you have my mask?” Peter asks quickly. Matt smirks.

“I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without noticing.”

“I was taking a break, doing some reflecting.” Matt nods.

“Did Deadpool help with that reflecting?”

“Yeah, why? You jealous that I'm talking to him?” Peter taunts. Matt shrugs.

“Maybe.” He pauses looking back into his apartment where Peter was also looking around. “When you’re ready to talk to me I’ll tell you where your mask is.” He moves to shut the door again and Peter blocks it with his full body this time, stepping into his entryway.

“No Matt, c’mon, don’t do that to me.” Peter whines. Matt scowls.

“Don’t whine like a child, that’s gross. Come in and talk to me like an adult, which you are, and I’ll tell you where your mask is.” Peter sighs, contemplating if he was going to do it or not. He needed his mask, the city needed him.

“Fine, jeez, let me get my keys.” Peter retreats from where he stood in Matt’s entryway, moving back to his apartment and grabbing his keys. He closes his door and moves back into Matt’s apartment. It would be dark if it weren’t for the bright billboard illuminating his living room. He stands to the side as Matt plops down on the couch with a groan. Matt looks up at him.

“Are you going to sit or…” Peter nods, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. They sit in silence for a moment and Peter watches the billboard shift advertisements. Perfume, lingerie, fast food.

“Why do you cut everybody off?” Matt asks. Peter sighs, unsure of how to answer. He continues to watch the billboard. Gym membership, beer, new movie. “Peter?”

“I don’t know.” Peter rushes out, curling in on himself. Matt’s apartment was much bigger than his. Colder.

“Don’t lie Peter. I can tell when you’re lying.” Matt says. Peter groans, annoyed.

“Shouldn’t you know? Have you not tried to cut people off as well because it’s better for them? Because it’s dangerous knowing a vigilante.”

Matt laughs. It’s a small laugh, the type where you just blow air out your nose.

“Yeah. You got me there.” Peter waits for him to say more. “I died once. Not actually, I just was assumed to be dead, and I just let it happen. It was easier that way, safer for Foggy and Karen.”

“So you understand why I try not to see you and Karen.”

“You don’t try very hard.” Matt argues.

“I know. It’s hard though, I don’t want to be alone, I want to have friends, everyone does. I want to be able to build connections and live life normally, but that’s just not possible for me. I’m not normal. I’m Spider-Man and I hurt everyone I know.”

They’re quiet again and Peter watches the billboard again, then he watches Matt’s face. His face lights up with colour every time the sign switches. In this lighting Peter can’t see the grey hair encroaching on Matt’s hairline. He’d look younger if it weren’t for the shadows that are cast on his face, emphasising the age lines and scars.

“Do you know that you hurt everyone or are you just guessing?” Matt suddenly asks. Peter almost doesn’t catch it, too focused on studying his face.

“I’ve seen the way I’ve hurt people. I left injuries on Karen’s face.”

“She covers it up easily, I can smell the makeup. She asks about you every day, making sure you’re okay. She doesn’t care that you hurt her.”

Peter frowns.

“I don’t… She reminds me too much of my aunt, sometimes. I don’t know if it’s just ‘cause she’s a woman and she’s older than me, or if it’s the way she treats me, but she reminds me of my aunt. It hurts, and it hurts even more when I hurt her.” It’s the first time Peter had ever even admitted this to himself. He was slightly embarrassed by it, the fact that he was projecting whatever mommy issues it was that he had on her.

“I love being around you two, you make me feel happy and welcome, but I felt the same way with my aunt, and my girlfriend, and my best friend and I hurt them all.”

“Is that why you made all of us forget you?” Matt asks. Peter nods before he really realises what Matt had asked. He shifts, unwinding his arms from around himself.

“What did you just say?” Matt sighs.

“You heard me.” Peter stands up, staring at Matt. Matt’s eyes are trained on the ground as he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about, how do you know that?” Matt rises from his seat, walking over to his front hallway. He rummages through his coat pocket for a moment before retracting his hand.

“It was hard getting this back from Karen but-.” He hands Peter a piece of paper and he looks down. It was the business card that he had lost, the old one.

“Okay, so it’s a business card, what about it?” Peter asks, trying to poorly cover up what he knew about it.

“It’s an old business card of yours. We haven’t had a card like this in years. Peter, why did you hire me as your lawyer?” Peter shakes his head. “Peter… Why did you hire me as your lawyer.” Matt presses.

“Matt, stop.” He tries to hand the card back and Matt moves his hand away.

“What happened, it’s a simple question. What happened that needed you to hire me as a lawyer.” Peter backs away from him, continuing to shake his head. “Why did you get Dr. Strange to make people forget about Peter Parker?”

“Stop it.” Peter yells. “Stop asking me so many questions. Stop trying to be a fucking lawyer with me. I don’t want to talk about it Matt.” Peter rubs at his eyes, wiping away unspilled tears.

“Peter, you need to talk about what happened. It’s getting to you, I can tell. You’re constantly anxious. You’re short of breath, your heart beats erratically, something is wrong and I think this is it.”

Peter takes a deep breath and rubs at his chest, then he stops. His hand itches to rub at his chest, but he can’t. Matt can’t be right.

“Peter please. Karen and I know something is wrong. We know you hired me as your lawyer. We know that Dr. Strange tried to do a spell and you messed it up. We know that you made everyone forget you, all that you have to do is tell me why.”

“Because people found out who I was.” Peter yells, his voice cracking. “Everybody found out who I am.” He lowers his voice when he notices Matt’s head twitch. “M’sorry.” He whispers.

“It’s okay Peter. How did people find out who you are?” Peter tugs nervously at his hair, winding it around his fingers.

“I don’t know how to explain this, it’s a lot.”

“That’s okay, tell me everything.”

And so he does, all the way back to when Mr. Stark had recruited him. He didn’t mean to start that far back, but he found himself rambling and having to further explain things, so he restarted and explained everything from the start.

Matt stood in place, listening intently. He blocked out the sound of Peter’s light footsteps as he paced the room, walking calming patterns around Matt’s living room as he explained. Matt had to admit, it was a lot, a lot more than he thought it would be, but he listened intently.

He listened as Peter told him about the good, and the bad. As he laughed and cried, nodding along to everything he said.

Then he got to why he hired Matt. Of course, Matt didn’t remember a single thing about it, but a small feeling in his gut made him feel a sense of deja vu as Peter explained the trial. They had won, of course, but everything continued to go downhill after that, all thanks to the spell.

It was early in the morning when Peter had finished explaining. Him and Matt were deep into a pot of coffee by now and Matt could feel himself nodding off.

“Thank you for telling me literally everything.” Matt joked, wiping at his eyes tiredly. Peter nodded, now moving onto biting at the skin around his fingers. Matt never really noticed how often Peter would fiddle nervously, but during his explaining it was almost constant.

Rubbing at his chest, pacing, pulling his hair, waving his hands. It was all very distracting, but he worked on tuning it out, for Peter’s sake.

“Do you feel better now?” Matt asked. Peter’s breathing had changed all throughout the night, but it maintained a consistently laboured state. Whether his breaths were short bursts or long staggered sighs, he constantly sounded starved for breath.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you.” Matt nods. “Now you have to tell me where my mask is.” Right, Matt had almost forgotten.

“Karen has it.” Peter sighs, annoyed, curling in on himself.

“I can’t talk to Karen right now.” Peter groans, pulling at his hair. He sits up again, shaking off his annoyance. “I can’t talk to her, I haven’t forgiven myself for what I did.”

“She’s already forgiven you. She forgave you the moment it happened.” Matt reason. Peter shrugs.

“I know, of course, she did, but that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to see her yet.” Matt stands up, groaning tiredly as he returns his and Peter’s coffee mugs to the kitchen.

“What time is it?” Peter tells him the time. “Okay, I have work tomorrow, well, later I guess, and so do you, so go to bed. Enjoy trying to be Spider-Man without your mask.” He waves vaguely in Peter’s direction as he heads back to his room.

Peter leaves.

He doesn’t sleep, he spends the rest of the night sewing himself a new mask. He’d be stupid to not keep extra fabric and stuff on hand with how often he was tearing his suit. He missed how indestructible the suits were that Mr. Stark gave him. It took a lot to wreck those things.

The bad part, he only had blue fabric. His mask was blue. It looked really fucking stupid, but nothing would beat the first-ever suit he wore. That thing was horrendous.

He went out for a few hours before he had to get ready for work just to spite Matt.