his throat burns, his chest hurts, and his lungs burn. every gasp, every sob irritates his body even further. he tries to hold his breath, to keep the sobs in; but that only worsens the tightness in his lungs.
he’s sitting on the top of a concrete building, the dark sky brightened by the light of the moon and stars. gray clouds in the distance that slowly drift over, that seem to match his mood perfectly.
the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why he’s crying. one moment he was fine, and the next moment, he’s breaking down. the hands in his hair grab onto the roots of his hair, and tugs. A painful attempt to ground himself, to pull himself out of the depressing spiral.
he can barely breath in-between the sobs and cries he lets out. it’s painful, his chest constricting constantly after every wail. his sobs aren’t quiet either. they’re needy and choked, and he has to gasp for air after every cry.
his tearful mood brings back a memory he had tried so hard to bury and forget.
peter falls onto his knees besides uncle ben, his hands hovering above him, and peter’s panicking, he doesn’t know what to do. tears stream down his face, and he turns to scream into the empty streets.
“help! help, please! my uncle! he’s been shot! call an ambulance, please!” peter knows there’s no one around, that his uncle’s gonna die, and it’s going to be his fault; and only his.
peter turns his teary gaze back to ben, who’s laid on his back, hand pushing weakly against the bullet wound that’s spewing blood. peter jolts, and his hands fly down to help apply pressure. he can feel his jeans getting soiled by the pool of blood that’s slowly spreading, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“please, please, please.” he whispers, the tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping down his chin, onto ben’s shirt underneath. he doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but they continue to spew out of his mouth like a prayer.
he knows this is his fault. he let the robber get away, he let the robber get to uncle ben, he let the robber shoot him. peter drops his head down, his forehead nearly touching ben’s bloody chest. they both know he won’t make it.
he sobs, pushing down his hands with more force necessary, desperate to save ben. but then, an aged hand gently pushes peter’s hands off, and blood spurts out.
“wh- what? uncle ben, what are you..” peter falters, their eyes meeting. ben’s eyes are accepting and forgiving. he’s accepted that he’s going to die, and has forgiven peter in his final moments. peter realizes with a jolt.
“no.. nononono.. please, please, you have to stay alive, stay alive for me, for aunt may, please.” he begs, hands scrambling to apply pressure once more, but just as before, ben pushes them away. instead, his hand gently grabs peter’s chin, and turns his head, until they’re facing each other.
“i forgive you.”
a wail breaks through peter’s throat, it hurts, it hurts so much. he can’t take it, he can’t control it anymore. thunder rumbles in the distance. peter’s hands grab and yank at his hair with an intense force, the pain brings him back for a second; before he’s spiraling again.
“i’m sorry,” he cries, sobbing. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” he gasps between sobs. he doesn’t know why he’s apologizing, but it feels right. everything is his fault. ben’s death, may’s death, tony’s death. everything, everything he’s ever done had lead to death. if he never existed, they would all be alive.
he lifts his head to the glittering night sky, and screams.