peter’s memories from early childhood were always hazy at best. everything seemed to be bathed in a soft yellow light, blurry around the edges.
he could barely remember his parents at all. if he concentrated hard he could vaguely conjure up a scene of his mom’s tinkling laugh, and his dad staring at her fondly, an expression of endearment on his face. but beyond that there wasn’t much.
he thought that maybe his mom used to read him bedtime stories and brush her hands through his hair, lulling him to sleep. that maybe his dad used to let him sit in his lap as he worked at his desk, patiently explaining the nuisances and details of biology to a fascinated but utterly bemused child. but he couldn’t remember how his mom’s hands felt, or how his dad smelled.
he wasn’t sure if these things really occurred, or if they were just figments of his imagination inspired by the stories ben and may had told him throughout the years or old pictures from photo albums.
only one scene sticks out in his mind clearly, the last time he ever saw them, when they said good bye.
he remembers his dad putting down his worn leather brief case to give him a hug and a smile, whispering for him to be good for his aunt and uncle. his mom kissing the top of his head and promising to be back soon. he remembers how they held hands as the boarded the cab and how they waved out the back window at him until they turned the corner and he couldn’t see them anymore. that was the last time he ever saw them.
he saw the footage of the crash later, googling it out of morbid curiosity one day when he was 8. he watched, transfixed and horrified, as smoke plumed from the plane before pieces of debris broke off and it plummeted to the earth.
his aunt and uncle swore he was inconsolable with grief for months afterwards but he doesn’t have any recollection of that. his earliest memories really are all of ben and may.
sometimes he feels guilty for not grieving them more but you can’t miss what you don’t remember, you can’t grieve what you don’t know. he misses the idea of them, their concept more than anything else.
but then from age five and on ben and may effectively took on the role of parents. they raised him lovingly and kindly, as best they could. they taught him how to tie his shoes and ride a bike and scolded him for not wearing a jacket in the cold and helped him with homework and congratulated him on all his accomplishments, and showered him with affection and praise. they attended all of his school events, parent teacher conferences and field trips and decathalon meets and everything in between. they were the ones he viewed parentally. it was their faces he saw when people asked about his parents, their names he scrawled on emergency forms, he wanted them when he was scared or alone or desperate. it was them who comforted and loved and helped him.
but then when he was 12, two months before he was bitten, ben died right in front of him. and that death hit him the hardest.
he remembers going to the corner store with ben, how they had been getting ice cream, playfully arguing about what flavor to get because peter wanted mint chocolate chip and ben wanted vanilla. how suddenly a masked robber came in with a gun and ordered everyone down.
peter was terrified and he remembers tugging on ben’s sleeve, hiding behind him and despite the terror of the situation he remembers feeling safe, reassured, pressed against ben.
but ben was a cop, a good guy, someone who wasn’t content to sit and watch as bad things went down. he was brave, selfless, a hero even when he didn’t need to be.
and the gunman was angry and he was threatening the girl behind the counter and she was sobbing silently and he was becoming impatient and ben couldn’t stand to be idle when other people were in danger of being hurt. he stepped forwards and the robber was yelling at him to step back and ben was trying to reason with him and everything was escalating so quickly and peter doesn’t remember exactly how it happened but suddenly there was the loud echo of a shot and he watched ben topple as if in slow motion.
peter was unaware of everything else, ben’s name tore from his lips unwittingly and he surged forward. he wasn’t aware of the robber sprinting out or the alarm blaring or the approaching sirens. he just wanted his uncle.
and somehow he was kneeling by his side and blood was seeping from the bullet wound in his chest and the blood was spreading too fast and it was all over his hands as he tried to stem the bleeding and he was repeating his name like a mantra while tears blurred his vision.
he remembers desperately grasping his hand as the blood soaked through his clothes and ben smiling up at him fondly as peter begged him not go. he remembers how ben rasped through blood stained lips that he was proud of peter and he loved him and that everything was going to be okay and how he needed to be brave. peter was sobbing and saying okay and making promises without any awareness of what he was saying and then ben gave him one last tired smile before his eyes faded and he stilled and peter had never screamed so loud.
he held on tight, refusing to let go even after the police arrived and insistent hands tugged at him saying you got to let go kid he’s gone.
but peter was still leaning over ben and futilely begging him to wake up and he kept trying to tell the insistent hands that he couldn’t leave his uncle but they wouldn’t listen and throughout it all he just kept repeating ben’s name as if that would help him wake up.
ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben ben-
but then suddenly gentle hands he recognized replaced the gruff insistent ones and he let them guide him away because they were soft and familiar and the voice attached to them let out an anguished sob and suddenly he was folded into a comforting embrace and aunt may was there and she understood his loss and she needed him and he needed her and he had to be strong, he had to be brave.
he doesn’t remember going home or speaking to the police or the car ride to the apartment but he does remember how later he took a shower because he was still covered in blood and how he watched the blood swirl down the drain and it felt like losing ben all over again.
and somehow no time at all passed but then peter was getting ready for the funeral and peter’s suit was from his 5th grade recognition and it was too small and tight and suddenly he was suffocating. he didn’t how to tie the tie or put on the cuff links so he just left them undone until some man at the funeral home he didn’t know took pity and did it for him.
he didn’t cry at the funeral, although he wanted to so badly. he just couldn’t, it was as if everything was frozen.
and later peter and may were back at the apartment and it was too empty, too silent without ben, the table meant for three not two, his usual armchair unoccupied. and peter oddly felt a craving for mint ice cream but they were out.
but then he swore he would be strong for may so he plastered on a smile and made jokes and got good grades and eventually even though it burned he moved forwards and kept pushing because that’s what ben would want. it hurt so badly but he learned slowly how to be happy again and eventually it no longer felt like faking.
sometimes he still missed ben so much it burned, sometimes he still had nightmares that woke him up in a cold sweat, sometimes he still cried at night, grief piercing him like a sword to the side. but for the most part he managed, him and may. they still had each other and that was enough.
and then the bite happened, and he realized the implications of his abilities and he swore no one else would die like he watched ben die if he could help it.
it helped to focus him, to give him purpose. peter genuinely loved to help people, he was good and kind and pure, and he didn’t want anyone to experience the pain he had experienced. and so he became spiderman, using his powers for good, to better the world, to look out for the little man.
he used his own pain as motivation instead of letting it wear him down. the world threw everything it had at peter and peter somehow managed to come out on top. he faltered, he cracked, but he never broke.
and then along came tony stark, iron man, his childhood hero. he asked for his help and peter gave it without question, eager to help the man he had always looked up to.
but then tony pushed him away, afraid to hurt him even more, afraid of endangering him. worried that he had done the wrong thing, worried that peter could get put in danger, hurt.
but peter was never one to shy from danger and he always tried to do the right thing, regardless of what he was told, and so he kept doing his thing anyways.
and slowly but surely tony and peter began to lean on each other, to depend on each other. tony gradually shifted from his mentor to another father figure and without even noticing it tony began to look at peter as his kid too.
peter helped out in the lab and trained with tony. he was so smart, a little prodigy, and his abilities were exceptional. but beyond that he good, heroic in a way that couldn’t be taught. everything in him shone, he was so genuine, so pure, so hopeful. a true hero.
tony couldn’t help but to love him. they would both protect each other no matter what, at any cost, neither could handle losing the other.
peter had already lost so many people, his mom and dad and uncle. all he had left was may and tony and he would be damned if either of them got hurt.
but tony was iron man, an indestructible hero, he wouldn’t leave him. but then, on titan, on the battleground, peter watched as tony fought thanos. the guardians holding him back because he wanted nothing more than to surge into battle with him.
thanos taunted tony, a titan against a mortal in a glorified costume and peter was terrified.
the titan’s voice was low, cruel, “I hope they remember you.”
and then peter watched as he plunged the knife into tony, and he was trying to yell but nothing would come out. he remembered a plane hurtling towards the ground, and a gun discharging and blood seeping from a bullet wound.
be good for your aunt and uncle
we’ll be back soon
I love you
I’m so proud of you, buddy
I love you so much
everything’s going to be okay, peter
be brave, okay?
and tony looked as limp as a rag doll, knife stuck between his ribs, and all peter could think was not again, I can’t handle it again. I’d rather it be me.
and he got his wish.