Ghost of Two Worlds

***

Wind whistling in his ears, Peter startled awake to the cold breeze brushing up against him. He found himself outdoors—the cold air licking up the sides of his face, sending shivers down his frigid body.

Using any strength he could muster, he rolled over onto his back. With glossy eyes and hazy vision, he gazed up at the scarcely lit sky. Blinking back his sight, he pushed himself up to a sitting position with shaking arms. 

“Uugh” A low guttural groan escaped him as pain radiated through his body. His frame rattling and shaking in agony, Peter thought, C’mon, broken ribs again? Panting he started glancing around, staring confused at the unfamiliar skyline.

As the pulsing pain of his aching chest gradually faded to a manageable state, Peter tried to clear his mind. He could admit that this was hard and he might be struggling to himself, because his senses were dialled up to the very limit.

Trying to regain his breath, the dense smell of fog uncomfortably filled his lungs and nose, and suddenly the not-so-faint sound of traffic, people arguing, and the city itself all merged into one overwhelming burst of sound that grated against his ears.

With his sense of touch multiplied tenfold—he could feel the dirt caked under his nails, his hair sticking to his neck from sweat, and the inner side of his shirt scraping against his ribcage.

The excruciating sensations left him feeling disgustingly grimy and uncomfortably aware of every tiny discomfort on his skin.

Peter stilled. Where was he and how did he end up here?

Abruptly all the possibilities and what-ifs slammed into him—filling him with anxiety.

In his panic he realised he could feel the chilly air on his face. 

Freezing in his place, an action not now caused by cold alone, but utter dread he muttered, “Where is it!? Where is it? Where is my mask..?” Fear evident in his voice. 

Frantically, he began tapping and searching his face, desperate to find the missing mask.

Noting he wasn’t only lacking his mask, but his entire suit. Peter patted himself down. Not reassured by what he found on his person, nor where he had woken up.

Here in this unknown city, the foreign place offering no comfort, Peter could officially say he had about 20 dollars in change, his original web shooters, and his necklace that consisted of a ‘pendant’—his Aunt’s wedding ring.

Adding to what ( lovely things ) he could say he had to his name, Peter found himself up-top of a building—maybe 10 or so stories tall. With a view of a city that was not Queens, NYC.

The city he was overlooking was dark and gloomy, screaming ‘despair’—a metropolis covered in shadows with a feeling of uneasiness, as if the city itself was always wary and on guard.

Slowly Peter stretched and felt around his body for any additional injuries he might have missed in the haze of pain he was just in, thanks to his ( definitely okay) ribs. 

Moving around he gradually tilted his head from left to right—quickly flooding him with a wave of nausea, leading to the less-than-lovely realisation that Peter definitely also has some kind of mild concussion.

g r e a t…

Speaking of headaches, the metaphorical kind, getting down from seemed like a challenge in itself.

Hoping for a solution, Peter whispered a desperate plea for a way down. “Please, pleaseeeee have a fire escape” praying to no one in particular.

As he approached the building’s edge—relief washed over him upon discovering the classical staircase ( aka metal scaffolding, staircase ) that led all the way down into the neighbouring buildings' shared alleyway.

Sure, it was beat-up and looked much older than what would likely be considered legally safe and regulated. But one could only hope it wouldn’t collapse. It was a way down and it would have to suffice.

Especially considering the state of Peter’s ribs; there wasn’t much of an alternative.

He walked down it, as if he and this fire-escape both weren't a strong gust of wind away from crumbling to nothing.

literally

Descending the stairs was a feat in itself. Complaining, Peter thought. That thing poses a serious hazard to me and all living things. 

Now to worry about where in the world I am —wondered Peter, as he stepped foot down onto the ground of the dimly lit alley. 

Upon stepping down, his spidey-sense sparked to life, though he couldn't quite tell where the origin of the danger or threat was coming from. Even though, he still went ahead and wrapped his arms around himself for fear of whatever was making his spidey-sense act up.

It felt as if the threat was everywhere and no-where. As though danger lingered constantly but nothing in particular. A sense of constant peril surrounded Peter, detached from any source of the dread. 

Like he was in danger constantly but not necessarily directed or fuelled by someone wanting to hurt him. However this would only make sense if that’s how the city was for everyone, always in a state of tense alarm and fear.

***

Despite how fun and lovely the idea of a whole new city was, it didn’t invoke any positive feelings or happy thoughts in Peter.

This would be because he was currently very, very, very lost .

In a place like this, being lost, or just having no clue where you are, doesn’t seem ideal to him. Now leaving the alley, he kept his head down and started to wander into the streets—guided toward the louder, more populated areas by relying on his heightened sense of hearing.

I hope I can find out wherever this place is . Peter decided. Sometime soon as well, maybe a library would work .

Things were looking up! Kinda. 

Either way, he needs to do research on this place. Also if there are any places that he can stay in or get meals from. Like a homeless shelter, or a soup kitchen for those in-need.

like F.E.A.S.T. 

Peter frowned at the thought that crossed his mind. Reminding him of his Aunt May’s homelessness shelter operation.

Clutching onto his necklace, he continued on his journey. “May would want me to try and keep myself safe.” he whispered to no-one but himself. 

As he exited the street he was on,  glancing up at the sky unsure of the time.

Then spotting an older-man standing around for a smoke.

“Hello Sir! Do you know what time it is?” he asked from across the street.

“Do I look like a fucking clock to you boy!?” the man angrily half-yelled back.

“Uh no sir, sorry I'll be on my way” he blurted out. Cautiously and quickly walking across the empty road into the more populated streets.

Thanks to his hearing, he overheard the man mutter “shitty tourists, god I hate ‘em” under his breath with vigour.

***

Determined to find out more on why this city reeked of danger—and how to stay safe from anyone like that guy. Or just why everyone seems to be always in some kind of panic. Questioning why this city has such a strong looming feeling of fear that hangs around everyone's shoulders.

Venturing deeper into the city, catching sight of one of those subway-like maps that instead of pointing out stations and routes—it highlights all the important landmarks and buildings.

Including the library yes!! He excitedly exclaimed in his head. 

I need to get some research done on this place . He thought, planning ahead for.

Despite his enthusiasm Peter had to keep a grin off of his face, as he was surrounded by people who were on edge, that looked like they were afraid of being stabbed or want to gut him, themselves. 

…

Anyways-

Refraining from punching the air in victory, he walked up the main street’s footpath, in the direction of the library.

Turning the corner after walking through several blocks of the city, gazing up at the impressively sized building. Even though he doesn’t know a lot about architecture, it was very detailed and intricate.

A thought crossed Peter’s mind, that— he would’ve been stoked to be here to spend time with his friends and MJ would have drawn his, dumb-exited face in her notebook. 

With a sad smile he regathered himself and started approaching the steps, he caught a glimpse of the library's interior, marvelling at the really high ceilings. Woah just how tall are those . Peter awed at the sheer size of this building.

Parker luck don’t fail me now! He fervently hoped.

Stepping inside he nervously waltzed over to the main desk.

“Hello uh…” glancing down at the lady at the front desk’s name tag. “Miss Barbara? Just wondering if there is free computer usage in this place?”

“Yes there is. They're over on the left there.” She answered, pointing around a corner of the bookshelves.

“Thank-you!!” he said, expressing his gratitude, and appreciating her kindness. Jogging over and turning the corner with a small smile on his face, he missed the librarian's curious glance in his direction.

***

Turning the corner he observed all of the very outdated tech sitting there.

Sheesh what is up with all the old brick computers, do they not have enough money to afford any upgrades. He guessed in slight surprise.

Settling down at one of the computers facing away from the entrance ensures privacy of the view on his screen—spinning around on the squeaky spinning chair and clicking on the guest browser option. 

Flexing his arms out, he cracked his knuckles and opened up Chrome, searching up Google Earth. He quickly clicked on the ‘show your location’ option, and froze up in shock.

He already realised he wasn’t in Queens, but being in a whole other state was unexpected and a bit of a surprise. 

“I know I'm not the best at geography but I'm pretty sure that Gotham City doesn’t exist..” Peter worriedly stated, a note of panic in his voice.

Researching Gotham City, he discovered it was renowned as one of the most dangerous places in New Jersey, America—if not in fact the entire world.

Infamous, actually for its unbelievable crime-rate, seemingly always at an all time high.

The next revelation marked the moment his luck truly ran out.

Deflating, he started to spiral. The outdated computer wasn’t solely due to the library’s funding, as he had previously thought. Displayed in the bottom right corner of the screen was the date.

It read ‘16/10/2014’

So not only did he find himself in a whole other universe or something similar . He conspired. But roughly ten-whole-years into the past.

A whole decade . He depressingly thought to himself. Frowning at the screen.

Eyes swelled with tears, he thought, Fantastic just fantastic, uughh okay don’t fall down a rabbit whole of doubt now peter . He instructed himself. That's something that can be dealt with later, just leaving it on his consciousness.

Forcingly, he regathered himself, clearing his mind. 

“Okay, just look up familiar and important things.” muttering to himself.

Typing, he searched for:

>Tony Stark.   

nothing

>Iron Man.   

nothing

>The Hulk.

nothing

>Oscorp Co.

nothing

>The Avengers.

nothing

>S.H.I.E.L.D.

nothing

“Alright I guess” he might as well have cried out amidst his silent sobs of breathing. Sucking in air, he let out a shaky exhale. Calming down, and continuing to type.

<<superheroes

Bingo! He finally found something. Supposedly in this world The Avengers didn’t exist, however a handful of superhero corporations and groups did.

<<superheroes

>The Justice League

>The Bats and the Birds

> click here for more rows 

eight more rows

Opting for and clicking on the Justice League, it appeared they were a large, more organised group of super powered individuals who frequently fought together and handled situations decidedly—way better than the avengers ever had.

Pretty cool accomplishments, they really are something . he noted.

Considering The Avengers were merely a band of individuals with weapons or abilities who only convened during end-of-the-world scenarios.

No offence to them, considering he knew some of them, and personally held a couple closely to his heart. But this ‘Justice League’ appeared more put together and reliable than they ever had.

Some of their top superheroes were all over my research. It’s pretty awesome how much these guys have done to help people . Peter thought.

“But Really?” 

“Superman and Wonder woman?”  he asked quietly out-loud. 

“Could they pick less obvious names? I mean, c’mon, get a bit creative.” he murmured, rolling his eyes. “The Flash, seriously? Just because he’s fast.” He scoffed, recalling his old classmates' cringey nickname.

Kinda logical . “I guess” . His thoughts muttering to life. 

But seriously, Green Lantern? Who comes up with a name like that for themselves? Peter sarcastically, mused internally.

***

Returning back to his initial tab, Peter clicked on;

<<superheroes

>The Justice League

  <<The Bats and the Birds<<

> click here for more rows

eight more rows

His eyes widened, and Peter looked surprised at the sheer number of these not-quite-superheroes, but vigilantes who apparently took care of this city on their own.

“a whole crew of them just to take care of this city? God how bad is the crime here for them to need this many heroic figures to look after the place?” he said, finding himself concerned.

Opening a new tab, Peter googled:

<<gotham crime and villains

>The Joker

>The Scarecrow

>Killer Croc

>Riddler

>Lex Luthor

>Penguin

>Mad Hatter

>Bane

more items...

-Other people searched-

>Where to buy affordable, high-quality gas masks?

> click for more searches

27 more rows

God what the hell is wrong with this city. He dreaded. Thoughts filled with fear and shock of the ridiculous number of deadly villains this place harboured.

Re-opening the search bar, Peter searched for ‘ homeless shelter near me ’ , sighing in relief—he found a shelter that was only a ten-to-fifteen or so minute walk by the look of things.

According to the website made for the shelters set up around the city, the shelter opens at 6:45am and is open until 6:00pm. ( also no guaranteed CPS call, yippie!! )

“Seems like they don’t let people in or out after six” he noted.

So I've got a little over twenty minutes to get there . Thought Peter, glancing back at the screen to double check.

It read ‘5:37pm’

As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly. The realisation came crashing back down on him, a stark reminder of his ribs too. Through the lovely sensation of sharp pains shooting up and down his body, thanks to his stomach re-awakening the feeling.

A feeling he didn’t miss, one that he much rather preferred remaining oblivious to. “Great, love that.” Peter grumbled. “Love, just love enhances metabolism.”

“I hope they dish out hot meals there.” he mumbled softly, eyes watering a bit.

***

Turning the corner, eyes catching sight of Miss. Barbara. He waved her a good-bye with a small smile—as he walked outside and descended the stairs.

Doing so captured her attention, and just before he turned around completely she reciprocated him with a small wave back.

Nice to know there are some decent people in Gotham . Peter thought as he walked past individuals who practically leaked both danger and panic.

***

Rocking up to the shelter about ten minutes before it closed for the night, Peter thought— I hope that there is an empty bed waiting and maybe somewhere to shower .

Approaching the main reception he opened his mouth. “Hi? excuse me.. but uh I was wondering if you had any paperwork I might need to fill out to stay here? Or a set of basic rules and guidelines to follow?” he asked..

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, seemingly at his approach “Afternoon, welcome to Miller's Community Shelter, Yes we do” she said. Answering his questions.

“I’m guessing you want to stay the next few nights?” she asked. 

“Yes please” Peter quickly responded. 

“Alright, we do have a few rules you’ll need to follow, but don't worry, someone will be assigned to guide you with the basics of how things operate around here.” she automatically said. “However there's handful of things to go over beforehand.”

Probably a commonly asked question then .

“Okay Miss, thank you! What are the things that happen beforehand?” he questioned, adjusting his posture and rubbing the back of his neck.

“We just need to ask a few straightforward questions to gather some information about you and your needs during your stay.” 

“It’s mainly for the system, so if you were to return, we wouldn’t need to go through this process again.” she clarified, adjusting her glasses. 

Hands hovering above her keyboard, she awaited a response.

“Oh okay, cool yeah, what are the questions?” asking in his nervousness.

“Well for starters, what's your name?” 

“Peter” 

“Peter…  what?” she questioned.

“Oh, Parker Miss”

“Thank you, just a couple more questions and we’ll set you up. She clarified to him.

Could you share your current age, any noteworthy allergies or intolerances and let me know why you’re staying here?”

“I’m sixteen years old, and I’m allergic to peppermint and vinegar.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, and finally what's your reasoning for staying here—and before you ask, yes this is an essential question, despite the obvious reasoning.” she said quickly, following up the blunt question.

“Yeah, uhm well I currently don’t have a.. home? so I came here for shelter?” squeaked Peter.

“Okay, with that all done.” she said as she pushed herself back in her chair and got up. Walking around the desk she opened her mouth to say.

“Follow me and I’ll get someone to show you the gist of ‘round here.”

“Will do!” he responded quickly.

*** 

Guiding Peter around, she ushered him into a spacious hallway that opened into a sort of lounging room. “Caleb! We’ve got a newbie, show him the ropes, make sure he knows how this place operates by the end of this.”

He glanced over for a moment, until he guessed Caleb stood up from a grey love-seat. “Hold on a moment, Naomi.” 

Well he seems nice enough . He thought to himself.

 “Let me grab a schedule sheet for him” he exclaimed, swiftly striding towards a staff-only door. With a quick open, he called out, “I’ll be back in a jiffy!”

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably beside the receptionist, Naomi. She cast a brief glance in his direction. Catching sight of the nervous demeanour of the teenager.

“Relax, there's no need to be nervous—you’re in good hands, and you’ll do just fine here.” She reassured him. “Caleb’s going to guide you through everything, and soon enough we’ll be out of your hair.” She attempted to ease his nerves with casual conversation.

“Okay, thanks for all this” “I really appreciate it.”

“Well that's if he doesn’t trip over his own feet and kark it, that is.” another worker, ( helpfully) chimed in from the lounge. 

“Chris, save the insults for later. We’re in front of one of the residents!” she snapped, shitting up a man stationed in the corner of the room by the kitchenette. Caleb pushed the staffroom door open again, stepping back into the room.

“Don’t think I didn't hear that!” he exclaimed, to which Chris just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Caleb!” Naomi’s voice echoed, capturing his attention, with a sharp turn of his head. “This is Peter, he’s sixteen and new here. You're in charge of giving him a tour of the shelter. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am” he threw up a quick salute at her.

Stepping forward, he reached his arm out for a handshake. However, Caleb opted for a friendly pat on the shoulder, passing a sheet of paper into his outstretched hand.

“C’mon, follow me and I’ll guide you to your sleeping quarters, and we’ll take it from there.” Caleb said, a wide grin on his face as he glanced down at Peter.

Following suit, he quickly folded up the paper and put it in his back pocket.

***

Caleb has taken him down a couple grocery store sized corridors into this giant room of hallways, about the size of a parking lot.  

The expansive area looked like a maze of capsule hotel beds. noted Peter.

“All the beds are labelled. Let me take a look at your paper for yours.” Caleb said. He curiously handed him the schedule.

“So Peter, a key rule about staying here is that you can only do so for five consecutive days before you legally need to spend 48 hours outside of the shelter.” he explained.

“It sucks, but it’s just the rules to make sure things get cycled ‘round here for anyone in need.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up.”

Following Caleb, he hoped for a decent bed, muttering “please be comfy” to himself.

“Just so you know, if hygiene is a concern, once I finish showing you around, you’ll be given a bag with essentials.” Caleb told him.

“Stuff like a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, soaps and some clothes.”

“that sounds really good, thank you so much.”

“No problemo, it’s to help anyone who needs it out.” Caleb firmly stated.

“Any other places you still need to show me?”

“Yup! We’ve got the food court, bathrooms and a sort of laundromat setup here.”

“It’s amazing, there’s so much this place has. How does the shelter manage to afford all of it?” Peter questioned him..

“Well, we get donations from some generous folks now and then!”

“Bruce Wayne also funds the place, Miller’s Community Centre, and several other shelters, chains across Gotham.” he explained.

He came to a stop in the far left corner of the room—in front of him stood about ten by rows of capsule hotel beds, stacked three high on each, accompanied by a ladder.

Please don’t be on the bottom, please don’t be on the bottom. He pleaded to himself.

“This is our first stop, if you want you can have a quick look at it, the sheets and covers get changed every day by the volunteer workers like me.” he said, as Peter looked up at the wall where the door (labelled 152) was. 

A quick, Yay! echoed in his mind as he felt excitement for his wish coming true.

“This is our initial stop. If you’re interested, have a quick peek. The Volunteer workers, including myself, change the sheets and covers daily.” he mentioned.

Walking up to the wall with his door, 152, and looked up at where it was and opened the bed’s door and had a look inside.

Good thing I got top bunk!   Peter thought happily at getting to climb, and deal with less noise and possibly gross smells.

“Where to next?” He prompted, hopping down, turning around again.

“I’ll show you where the showers are.”

Caleb gestured with a wave, and Peter rose, falling into step beside him.

Rounding another corner, they stepped onto cold tiles, a contrast to the wooden boards that comprised most of the building before.

“This is the central area leading to the showers. You’ll find lockers to stow your clothes in, inside of the actual showers themselves, or I guess shelves with a door.”

“In the actual showers?” Peter asked. 

“Exactly, like those mini-rooms with a shower and a seat built into the wall at public pools.”

“Got it. And where’s the Laundromat?”

“It’s just a short hallway away, to the left there.” Caleb said—pointing at a large set of double doors.

“It’s closed right now, the machines that is. They're turned off cause of the time, but they get turned back on from 7:00am to 4:30pm” explained Caleb.

“Alright, now I guess just the cafeteria is left, am I right?” Peter asked.

“You guessed it!” 

The cafeteria is the last stop. You can have dinner there, and later, just find any staff member to get your bag with soap and other necessities. After that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“Lead the way.” He invited Caleb to show him to the next spot, with small hand gesture

Caleb smiled at him and led him to the cafeteria’s entrance.

“I’ve got to lend a hand to other volunteer staff in getting tomorrow’s food ready.” he mentioned to Peter. “Head over to that line, and you can choose from the dishes they’re serving tonight.” he directed, gesturing towards a line of people standing with food trays.

“They bring out dessert around quarter to seven—if you're interested.” he mentioned, starting to walk away from Peter.

“See you around, and thanks for showing me around.” Peter said with a proper smile.

“Good luck, Peter.” he said, waving back.

***

Caleb having left, Peter walked over to pick up a food tray and joined the queue, leading to the canteen.

With a tray containing a carton of chocolate milk, bowl of mac 'n cheese and a serving of apple slices. He looked around the room.

After letting his gaze wander for a bit, he noticed an unpopular section on the connected tables.

Wandering over and settling into a seat, he began to blow on his mac ‘n cheese, cooling it down to a more enjoyable temperature.

Pinching and opening his carton of milk, Peter took a few sips before reaching for a couple apple slices to munch on. 

Stirring his food, he took note of people surrounding him and the end of the table he's sitting at. Perking up a little, he raised his eyes and glanced at the people occupying the seats.

It’s really nice that a place like this is open for people like me and them . He thought, whilst taking a spoonful of the mac.

***

Scoffing down his food, he finished, noticing some people we’re only just lining up now. Peter stood and retraced his steps around the hall, to where he remembered the staff lounge was. 

“Hiya? Just wanted to check if I could get my bag of stuff?” he spoke, questioning, peering in from the doorway. A staff member stood up.

Recognizing him as Chris, he went over and handed him a drawstring bag from the crate sitting under a table. 

“Here ya go kid, it’s got lots of soaps, like shampoo, conditioner and stuff.”

“Thank you very much,” he expressed his gratitude.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s got more stuff, things like deodorant, a toothbrush, and some basic clothing.” he clarified to Peter. 

“You get to keep it with you after you leave the shelter too. It's complementary, it should also have a blanket and some snacks like granola bars and crackers.” 

“Oh also a filled water bottle and a little one of those keychain flashlights.” he added.

“All of this is for me? To keep?” widening his eyes in shock as he asked Chris.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?” Chris raised an eyebrow at Peter's surprise.

“Don’t other people need it more or something?”

“They need it as much as you do kid, no offence but you don’t seem to be looking or going the greatest.” Chris commented, observing Peter's hunched-over frame.

“Suppose so” he replied faintly in realisation of his living situation. I guess I do need these as much as anyone else at this shelter. 

“Maybe consider having a shower or getting some rest soon. Lights out is at 8:40 cause of the work hours.” Christ suggested, pointing to a clock on the wall. “Also there are bins of fresh, donated clothes in the Laundromat, just take what you need okay.”

The clock showed ‘7:56pm’

“Some of the older folks, probably those who’ve had a bit too much to drink, can get a bit feisty. If you have any issues, just come and tell a worker, and they’ll help you deal with it.” Christ advised.

***

Making his way to the bathroom, Peter took notice of the general lack of people in the general area.

I wish they served larger meals . Peter thought, his stomach emitting a deep rumble. But I guess not everyone has as big of an appetite as me . 

Making his way over to the left, into the laundry he continued on a train of thought about the food. The portions were quite big though, for normal people . He finished off with.

Entering the room, he set his bag down and glanced at the labelled bins scattered around the back wall.

“I think just a couple sets of clothes will do for now.” he said aloud.

Walking up to the bins, he leaned over and took two sets of underwear and socks. Shifting to the left he picked up a couple of plain shirts—one grey, with a tee graffiti symbol on the front, the other a black shirt with elbow-length sleeves.

Choosing a couple pairs of jeans in decent condition, he grabbed a puffer-jacket that was sitting under a handful of grandma sweaters. 

“No need to get greedy, someone else might really need this.”

“Buuuuuut… this will come in handy. Plus I guess I need it as much as anyone else now” he muttered to himself, mindful of the impending winter.

Before leaving he made one final stop at the shoe-rack.

Find something practical and hopefully my size . He instructed himself, staying focused on his task.

Going from shoe to shoe he finally found the section of the shelves that had his size.

Looking at all the shoes—ones with holes or missing laces—he finally decided on a pair of faded red converse.

On his way out he nicked a fuzzy gray scarf and a black beanie.

*** 

Stepping into his shower cubicle, Peter put his stuff in the locker-like shelf and started to strip his clothing.

Groaning in pain he struggled to take his shirt off, finding it stuck to his sensitive skin over his ribs.

“I hope they’ve got hot water.” he hoped, stepping under the showerhead.

Turning the tap on, lukewarm water spurted out, dowsing him from head to toe. Retrieving his bottle of shampoo from his bag, he squeezed some onto his hands. 

Stepping back into the now hotter water, sighing in relief at the sensation. The water relieving some of his pain, he scrubbed the roots of his hair with his hands and rinsed it out. Putting some conditioner in the rest of his hair, Peter then grabbed the shower head handle and adjusted it down onto his bruised rib cage. 

Glancing down at the water, seeing it run into the drain tinged brown, he pulled a face at how dirty he was. Squirting some soap into his hand, he scrubbed under his nails and washed the rest of his body off, including the conditioner.

Turning the water off and squeezing out his hair off any extra water, he stepped over toward his clothing.

***

That was the best shower I think I've ever had . Peter thought dreamily.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a shower that good.” he cheerily thought to himself.

Feeling super clean and fresh, he put his socks on his feet, pulled on his shoes, and tied the laces. Rising to his feet, and regathering all of his soaps, along with his tee, back into his bag. Stepping out and heading over to the row of sinks, he got his toothbrush and paste out.

If I don't find a way to earn some money, I’ll never make it in this city. I wonder what kind of jobs I can get here. He wondered, whilst brushing his teeth.

Gazing up, into the mirror. Peter noticed that it almost seemed like his eyes were glowing. Upon closer inspection, his eyes, once a deep chocolate brown, now shone, literally lit up with more of an amber hue.

“What the hell.” Swearing in disbelief, he blinked a couple times until his eyes seemed to lose that colouring to them.

If there even was any, I might just be going crazy . Peter theorised.

Even in his bewilderment, he finished up brushing his teeth and walked away with a mouthful of artificial mint.

*** 

He wandered further and further down the bunk area, until he got to his. Re-adjusting his grip on the bag, Peter began climbing up three or so metres to get to his bunk. Opening the door he tossed the bag inside and crawled in after

Turning around he closed the sliding door entry, kicked his shoes off at the end of the bed, and set down his bag next to it.

Lying down he tucked himself under the blanket on the comforter. The events of the day all came crashing back down on him. 

Within the small space he now called his ‘room’ there was no familiarity. Everything different and devoid of comfort, memories of his old world haunted his thoughts. Peter lay there unable to escape the sorrow and mourning. With no distractions he was fully aware that he would never see Aunt May again.

He would never be comforted after a hard day, to sleep by her again. He would never arrive home after school and decathlon practice with his friends, to the smell of burnt food in their shoe-box sized apartment's kitchen. He would never see her smile again, or hear her voice when she laughs. Never get to visit her grave.

The thoughts bringing tears to his eyes, he clutched his necklace with a thought of, I miss you .

He wouldn’t ever see his best friend Ned ever again—his guy in the chair, who didn’t even remember him after Dr. Strange’s spell. There would no more build Lego's together. No more nerding on about Star-Wars with him again, and no more memories made with him ever.

Tears welling up in his eyes as he sniffled at the thought of never seeing MJ again either. 

Never holding her hand, making her laugh, or kissing her. He would never see her again, even in the coffee shop she doesn’t even remember sharing memories with him in.

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, before it could roll down his face.

Sadness enveloping him. Sobs shook Peter as he mourned the laughter, shared moments, and warmth now lost yet again. 

The realisation that life had continued without them ever existing, now felt like a heavy anchor, pulling down on Peter's heartstrings. 

Lying there, tears now cascading down his face like a pair of waterfalls, his eyes leaked and leaked, draining all his energy and happiness. Washing it away forever.

The warmth of their moments shared together, now lost to the sands of time.

Crying, Peter shed tears for a little under an hour.

Until his sobs turned to sniffles.

Until he passed out, completely drained from grieving the world that had forgotten him a second time.