The End.
So, So much pain.
Peter coughed and immediately regretted it as he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He felt the bile rise in his throat as Kingpin's hulking form looms over him. Peter is alone and all that surrounds him is an unwavering force of evil.
He's long since sent the kid off, Peter wonders if he's still here. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't have to see him like this. From the moment he's seen him, he knew the kid was just like him. He never thought he'd ever see someone else like that in this lifetime. Peter trusted him. Deep down a part of him hopes he ran away somewhere safe. He wishes he could just get up and get going to find the kid, just like he promised but not even he can deceive himself like that.
Peter isn't stupid, he knows he's not getting back up from this. He looks up at the people surrounding him and it scares him how he can't discern anything. Their faces don't betray their emotions but Peter is the one laid vulnerable in front of them like a prey caught in their trap. Though, he supposes that's what he is right now.
No, Spider-man doesn't always get up, but Peters heart aches with the knowledge that he's going to die. He's going to die and it's not going to be while saving somebody. It's not going to be peacefully in Mary Janes or Aunt Mays arms. He's going to die, cold and battered surrounded by a bunch of predators ready to pounce on him at any given second. He wants to shout, wants to call out for MJ but he knows there will be no answer. Peter atleast has the consolation of knowing she's safe. That she's not the one here on the ground, surrounded yet so alone. Their cold, unforgiving gazes are unrelenting, and Peter feels it deep down to his very core.
Peter has a obligation as Spiderman, as a human, to at-least try. He tries his best, despite the ache settling into his body, he tries to convince Kingpin to not turn on the collider. His voice feels raw, each word feels like a stab to his throat, but he hopes some of it can permeate through the other mans' mind. He knows his efforts are futile, almost pitiful but he can try his damn hardest. He knows he's going to die, but he will die knowing he tried.
So Peter isn't surprised when he sees the man lift his arm. His spider senses going off like alarm bells despite his injuries. The world simply seemed to move in slow motion in that moment. He feels petrified, stuck in time.
He's filled with regret, so much of it. If it weren't for the fact he just breathed his last breath, he would've have shouted. Maybe he would have pleaded, anything but this.
As the mans hands come down, mere inches way, Peter feels gutted from the inside out. He felt so old and worn, and so young all at once, raw as a open wound.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry MJ & Aunt May, I'm sorry kid—
His heart beats, perhaps the final time it would ever in this lifetime, yet it's filled with the love he had to offer. One last heartbeat.
If there is a god out there, Peter thought, he'd beg him for more time. Even if it was just a minute. He's going to beg him to let him see MJ. Let him meet her again, for the first time. Time, how Peter wishes he had more of it. He didn't want to die like this, he deserves a better goodbye.
He barely has time to shed a tear before the fists are directly to his face now. He doesn't feel any fear anymore, He knew this was the last time.
One last moment of being Spider-man, the least he could do right now is he brave. No matter how much innate sadness and desperation he feels for his encroaching end.
Goodbye.
He closes his eyes, anticipating the pain that was about to come, but he felt nothing.
Suddenly the air felt cold around him. Peter could hear his own heartbeat, still alive. With another beat, Peter felt his eyes open.
He should be dead, what the actual hell is happening? Perhaps Kingpin decided to have mercy on him. Maybe his death was just that painless, and he's in the afterlife right now?
Still dazed and confused, He forced himself to focus on his surroundings, and no he wasn't at the pearly gates. He could make out a ceiling above of him. His senses were going off, burning throughout him like a wildfire. None of this was right. His brain feels like it's being thrown around in his head, tilted off its course of balance. He couldn't comprehend what was going on.
He moved his hands around, scrambling to find purchase, and he felt a floor. Not concrete, not rubble, but a hardwood floor.
Where am I?
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Miles just barely held it together. It felt weird to be in his position right now. He should've broken down, maybe even been angry but he's beyond that. He's just not there.
It's been nearly 3 months since the events with The Spot. They managed to get rid of him, but at the cost of his dads life. Something inside of Miles died seeing the bloody and lifeless body of his father laying yards away from him. He felt the hands on his shoulders, but he just brushed them off. He could hear the voices all around him, directed to him but Miles couldn't discern what they were saying.
Forever will the image of his fathers body will be burned into his mind. It lingers like a disease, he sees it in the dark whenever he closes his eyes. He can see it even when his eyes are wide open. He remembers every detail, haunting him.
Everyone's said the same thing, offering their condolences. It seemed they already had to offer them hours before, his fathers death set in stone in their eyes. They made him look naive for believing there was anything he can do about it. He knew he couldn't just sit down and accept that. It would go against everything he stood for.
So he fought, and damn did he fight like hell. Miles shudders every-time he remembers being chased like prey all throughout Nueva York. He fought like his life depended on it, though he could care less about that more than he did about saving his father. Miles would trade his role as Spider-man any day, if it meant his father would live. He couldn't imagine being anything in this world that would be more gratifying than being his fathers son.
He took Miguel's verbal abuse, driven by the desperate consolation that he might, just might be lying. His heart tells him, that this isn't right, this isn't supposed to happen. Then Miguel grabs him by the throat and somewhere in his mind, he feels as if the universe is laughing at him, that this is how it is meant to be.
His soul shattered into tiny pieces that day, till he felt like there was nothing more left to salvage. Over and over he got his heart broken, deceived by the notion that he was wanted and needed by his so called friends. He fell for the smiles, the hugs, the affection because it's something he so desperately yearned for. Miles was never somebody who didn't love, he just had so much so give. He never went a day without giving his Mami a kiss or his Father a hug. He loved, and wanted to be loved. Even when he felt like he couldn't feel, it coursed through his veins, he felt it all. So he fell, and he buried himself in their arms till he felt like he had a hole the shape of him etched into their beings. Maybe they did once love him, but that day they buried him.
Miles died with his dad, yet he's still breathing.
He thinks he's heard it all that day, they say he's not guilty, and that no one blames him. Miles felt the anger bubble up beneath his skin. He scratched at himself till he bled, as if he could free the turmoil within him.
They said "But you are not guilty! Nobody blames you!"
And Miles wants to scream till his voice is gone
"BUT I BLAME ME. I AM GUILTY"
He wants to silence them, wishes he could yell at them with the words he kept imprisoned in his mind. In the end he'd only silenced himself.
So Miles ignores the texts and calls from everyone. From Gwen, Peter, Hobie, Pavitr. Even Miguel tried to call him a few times, the audacity of that man. Miles ignored them, any words he had left to say dying with his father. He had nothing left to offer them, he already gave himself whole until they savaged on his bones. There was nothing left of Miles Morales.
They tried to visit Miles, pleading with him. Did they feel pity for him or did they feel guilty for what they did? Were they here to apologize to him or were they here as a way to apologize to God, to clear their conscience.
"Miles i'm so, so sorry—" Gwen.
"Miles I failed you, I can't even begin to express how sorry I am—" Peter.
"Morales, I offer you my condolences." Miguel.
They say his name but Miles doesn't feel like they're talking about him. No, they're just making their amends with themselves, can't let themselves live with the guilt of it all. Yet Miles is the one who has to live with that, he's the one who has to live each and every second without his father. They buried his father weeks ago, but it will always feel like he's at his wake.
What is Miles now, now that he's gone?
Miles doesn't choose healing. He can't let himself live with the guilt of killing his father. He's stubborn, choosing self destruction. He hopes he learns what it's like to have wounds again, so he can feel and he can learn, and learn, and learn all over again. It's the pain that keeps him anchored because otherwise he feels he'll float away. It doesn't feel like him, he's not the same boy who would shy away from the hurt. He’s not the same boy who would go crying to his mother whenever he got injured. He finds himself yearning it instead. Miles has this strange feeling he's not himself. It felt like someone hurriedly tried to reassemble him together after he self destructed. Like they tried to make every piece fit, in all the wrong places.
Recently his mother said to him, "Mijo, you carry too much burden. Why? Why do you hold onto that?" Miles had nothing to say to that. A voice in his mind whispers, "but where will I put it down?"
So he spends everyday trying to survive, not trying to live. Every swing he takes feels like a stab to the heart, his guilt weighing him down a few hundreds tons. Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to fall without his webs. If he dies,Would he be with his dad? Or would he be in hell, left to amend for his sins? He sleeps so he can meet his father but he's not too sure if he'll ever see him once he dies too. He wishes he could. Being happy in a dream, does that count as real happiness?
And So, Despite all of this Miles found himself standing in HQ. He'd rather be anywhere but here but Pavitr asked for help with an anomaly, and after Miles almost made his dimension collapse how could he say no? He was given a watch shortly after his father died, that's what it had to take just for him to be invited to this damn clubhouse.
"Miles guess what I snagged from that anomaly?" Pavitr said excitedly as they walked towards Miguel's office.
This anomaly was something that confused Miles, it didn't seem familiar much like the other ones something about it seemed...off. It looked more like a genie than it did a creature, but than again Miles has seen more questionable things. Other spider people came rushing in before Miles could really get up close and personal with that thing, perhaps for the best. Fighting it was a bad idea, stealing from it? Even worse idea.
Miles decided to entertain the question anyways, "You stole something from it? What was it?"
Pavitr pirouetted his whole body so he was in front of Miles "I'm glad you asked New Guy, I took this!" Pavitr said holding out an object to Miles. Hesitantly, he took the object.
It was...a jar? Miles moved it around in his hands, feeling for the texture. It was gold but also had rust around the sides. It looked more like a miniature vase. How Pavitr managed to steal this is beyond him.
As if sensing his questions Pavitr said "He left it on the ground after the fight and it was just so interesting I figured i'd look at it myself"
"You returning this?" Miles replies back, still looking at the vase. Something about it made Miles gravitate towards it, by an ungodly amount. Pavitr gave a small smile at Miles' seemingly newfound love for the strange object and just raised up a hand.
"Nope" He said, popping the P "Think of it as a gift from me plus it looks very artsy!" Pavitr said slapping a hand on Miles' shoulder. Miles has to agree, despite the rusting gold, it seems to have many intricate symbols painted on as well.
"When you get that settled maybe you could text me about it...?" Pavitr questions albeit a little sheepishly. Miles doesn't feel like responding to that. He knows he's been ignoring them, he should probably feel some shame but he truly doesn't. All Miles could do is nod, avoiding Pavitrs face.
Miles has never been good at living up to his promises. Pavitr seemed to take it all stride, beaming a toothy smile at him, his mask long gone by now. Miles wish he could reciprocate it.
"We should go, Miguel and Peter are waiting!"
Miles wasn't dumb, he knew which Peter he was referring to. As they walked closer and closer to Miguel's office, Miles found himself growing progressively more anxious. The thought of seeing him again, face to face makes Miles wants to curl into himself. Miguel is not even part of the equation, he never wants to see him again, but Peter? A part of him wants to beg, apologize, and cry but he remained silent. Desperation lingering at the tip of his tongue but he bites it everytime.
He couldn't bring himself to speak to the man. Not ever since his father died. He's scared but he's angry. Sometimes when he looks at Peter shards of the person he once was a year ago resurfaces and everything in between only exists as a convoluted fever dream.
As Miles ponders on this, he begins to fiddle with the object in his arms. Something about it felt so off putting yet he couldn't bring himself to let go. Out of pure curiosity his fingers lingered around the opening of the object.
'Fuck it' Miles thought.
He opened the jar very carefully, and nothing happened yet—
Suddenly Miles felt a jolt throughout his entire body. Like he was being electrocuted from the inside out. Before he had time to process it, it left as quickly as it came. Pavitr immediately turned his head to him.
"You okay?"
Miles blinked his eyes but managed to let out a response.
"Yeah, Yeah no i'm good"
They walked to the office in silence after that. When they were mere feet away, Miles suddenly had a deep desire to go home. He couldn't face Peter or Miguel after all.
"Hey Pav, you know what i'm not really feeling the best right now" Miles said, already lifting his wrist up to access his watch "I think i'm just going to go home, can you debrief for me?"
Pavitr turned to him startled "Miles wait, I don't think it's a good idea to ignore everyone besides—
It took Miles a second to comprehend what Pavitr said.
"Everyone? What do you mean everyone?" Miles barks back at him.
"Besides Miguel and Peter, Hobie is there and so is Noir, Peni, oh and Gwen—" Pavitr starts before Miles interrupts him.
"Yeah that's not happening" He says, feeling the anger bubble up beneath his skin.
"We all miss you besides you won't be alone, i'll be there with you" Pavitr pleads with Miles. He felt his blood go cold, so that's what this was? A set up?
"Is that the only reason you called me when you found an anomaly? So you can get me to talk? To try and hold some intervention?" Miles said angrily.
"No! I— We, just thought that—"
"I don't want to hear it Pav"
Miles angrily inputs the coordinates for his dimension but he's stopped by Pavitr's strong grip on his arm, the other spider-man looking at him. Miles looked in his eyes, searching for anything really. He forced himself to look away, he couldn't do this, not now. He loosened himself from Pavs grip and continued to input the coordinates.
Miles throws the jar back at Pavitr who instinctively caught it. "You can keep it" He says in a neutral tone.
"Miles hear me out please!" Pavitr said
Miles simply ignored him, his body moving on autopilot now. He's overwhelmed by the anger. He prefers it to the sadness, because he'd rather not cry in front of Pavitr. He'll keep being difficult because it's easier than wanting to see everyone. He misses them in a way but something within just can't allow him to confront that. So Miles does what he knows best, he runs.
Miles heard the sound of the portal opening behind him. He gave Pavitr one last look, the other boy looking defeated by Miles' sudden exit.
He wishes he was braver, but he wasn't.
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As soon as Miles steps out from the portal the first thing he does is tear his mask off his face. The fabric feeling suffocating on him. Miles takes in a deep breath, trying to compose himself while pretending it didn’t feel like his heart was slamming itself against his ribs.
Before he had time to wallow in his misery, he feels a prick against his neck. Suddenly it felt stronger, the prick turning into a full blown buzz. Miles touches his nape, feeling the hair standing up against it.
Something wasn’t right.
Miles rapidly looks around his room, with the speed of a madman when suddenly his eyes corner in on something on his floor. Miles felt his heart going haywire even further if possible because what he is seeing right now couldn’t be real. On the floor laid the all too familiar body of Peter Parker, HIS Peter Parker.
The man looked the exact same as he did when Miles witnessed his death. Another baggage of his he holds with him. Miles falls to the ground, suddenly finding it too difficult to stand. He sits there mouth agape, as he makes eye contact with this Peter. His Blonde hair is stained with blood, his suit torn away in most places. His striking blue eyes, holding an emotion Miles couldn’t quite make sense of. Miles can feel his hands shaking at this point, yet he forces himself to keep composure and not break eye contact. God, he looked just his Peter it’s almost as if he—
“Kid...?” The familiar yet trembling voice called out.
Miles felt all the air in his lungs leave at that moment. He felt his blood run cold, because no this wasn’t a imposter. This was his Peter Parker. With a shaky breath he forced himself to find his voice.
“Peter?”