Chapter 2
Peter waved goodbye to Shihong first thing in the morning. After a dinner that he couldn’t stomach with Jianyu and Shihong, she had forced him to stay the night while implying that he was welcome to stay as long as he’d like. As much as Peter would’ve loved to grieve in his- her apartment, he felt out of place- a burden. While Jianyu seemed courteous, Peter could still tell that he was forcing his smiles most of the evening. With a bit of persuasion and tons of convincing, he promised that he’d be staying with his friend until he found more permanent housing. Peter had yet to call Ned, but he was sure his family would understand his situation and take him in.
With a change of clothes, a backpack, and a crumpled fifty dollars in his hand, he left his old apartment. Reluctant enough already, Shihong had insisted on giving him money for any emergencies, which he felt extremely guilty about accepting. She had been kind enough to also provide Peter with some clothes that used to belong to her son, understanding that traversing New York in only his Spiderman suit would be inconvenient at best.
Truthfully, Peter felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind as he traveled down the dingy stairwells. Looking down as his size-too-large Skechers scuffing on the pavement, he realized just how much had changed- and for the worse. He didn’t even know if Tony was dead, having heard nothing since seeing him after the Snap. Cursing, he realized that the only way he could call anyone would be through his suit, and even then he only had Happy’s number. Mr. Stark had always made remarks that if he gave Peter his number, even the newest Starkphones wouldn’t be able to withstand the amount of messages he sends. The two had a close bond after everything that happened with the Vulture, their relationship involving lab days and movie nights- not phone calls or text messages. Frustration levels creeping and not sure of his relationship with Happy, he put the idea of making a call on the back burner and decided to focus on formulating a plan of action. The walk to Ned’s place would take a couple hours if he didn’t swing there, so he decided that crashing in an alley would be his best bet for the night. It wasn’t the most sanitary option and definitely wasn’t safe, but he didn’t want to trouble Shihong another night or waste money on a hotel room. With both hands clutching his backpack straps, he plodded down the streets of his city, memorized like the back of his hand.
“If you ain’t gonna pay, then get outta my shop!” It was only twenty minutes later when he was startled out of his rhythmic walking. Peter looked up and caught sight of a man covered in ketchup scurry down the sidewalk, whispering profanities to himself. As he was about to shake off the weird event and continue on his path, a sharp tingle ran down his neck. “Peter? Peter Parker, is that you?” Turning his head in the direction of the voice, a sense of familiarity flooded his veins that almost paralyzed him.
“Mr. Delmar…” Peter wanted to say more, but his words were all choked up. It was the first moment he’s had of unchangedness, of consistency, of home. “It’s… it’s so good to see you,” this time, he couldn’t stop the sting of tears from coming, small droplets collecting on his eyelashes. Mr. Delmar is the only constant in his life from before Thanos to this current moment; besides the man being a bit older, he still sported his trademark polo shirt with a rag swung over his left shoulder.
The two stared at each other in a mix of shock and disbelief when suddenly Mr. Delmar approached him and enveloped him in a hug. “Oh Peter, I missed your face,” he hesitantly pulled away but kept one hand on Peter’s forearm. Peter agreed, he also missed Mr. Delmar. “I thought I’d never see you again, the deli was quiet without your after school talks.” Mr. Delmar gave a quick squeeze and retracted his hand. “Come in, come in. Let’s talk inside. It’s been a long five years but I still know your order,” He threw Peter a wink over his shoulder and started walking back inside the deli, the sixteen (am I technically twenty-one?) year-old not far behind.
A sigh of relief escaped from his lips at the sight of the familiar shop, if not a bit more rundown than when he was here last. Mr. Delmar pulled two fold-out chairs from behind the counter, beckoning Peter to take a seat. When he went behind the counter and started taking out ingredients, Peter insisted he wasn’t hungry but he was swiftly shut down and was told it was no problem at all.
“So, Pete. How are you? How’s your Aunt May?” He’s glad Mr. Delmar was focusing on making a sandwich so he couldn’t see how his face fell.
“Um,” He cleared his throat, not entirely sure how to tell him. “Mr. Delmar, uh… she… well she had can- cancer and…” God, Peter was sick of crying. These were the times he wished he didn’t have emotions; he could just pass through life without experiencing any negative feelings, even if that meant also forfeiting the good ones. The last time he had felt any “good ones” was apparently five years ago.
After wiping his almost-but-not-quite tears, he caught Mr. Delmar's gaze, the man had stopped making his sandwich and went quiet. “Peter, is she…?” Peter averted his eyes again but could feel him staring a hole into the side of his head. “Oh Pete, I’m so sorry-”
“It’s okay!” He couldn’t do this right now. He couldn’t do this ever. “It’s okay. Can… can we please talk about something else?” Peter shuddered, trying to hold back screaming and laughing and crying and sobbing and-
“Of course, Peter.” Mr. Delmar went back to making Peter’s sandwich while glancing at his motionless body. He was concerned to say the least; seeing his favorite customer in such a dissociative state. Smushing it down just the way he likes it, he grabbed a chip bag and made his way to the opposing seat. Offering the food, Peter gratefully accepted it and took a small bite before resting it in his lap. He uncomfortably shifted in his seat, the silence seeming far too loud.
“So, you were part of the blip, hm?” Mr. Delmar gestured at him, unsure if the conversation starter would only further sour the mood.
“Yeah. I was with Mr. Stark on Ti- at the compound. He… he watched me get dusted.”
“That’s horrible Pete.” Mr. Delmar rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “If it’s between you and me, I always knew that your Stark Internship was real. Never doubted you for a second, kid. Too smart for your own good,” Peter gave a small smile in return.
“What about you Mr. Delmar? How have the past five years been?” He fidgeted, picking at the wrapper around his sandwich.
“Gee, nothing special. Fortunately I wasn’t part of the blip, but it’s been slow going with only half the income as usual.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for Pete. Besides, now that my favorite customer is back, things can only go up from here.” Peter grimaced, knowing that if he stays at Ned then he wouldn’t be close by; he didn’t have to tell Mr. Delmar that. Speaking of, he still had to call Ned. What if he didn’t live in Huntington anymore? What if he didn’t live in New York anymore? It felt as if a cold bucket of ice water had just been dumped on his head. Where would he go if Ned had moved? His mouth going dry, Peter abruptly stood up, teetering unsteadily on his feet.
“Um, Mr. Delmar, do you have somewhere I can make a call?” The only phone he had was inside his suit so he had to find somewhere private.
“Sure, you can use the back room.” Mr. Delmar got up and walked to where the freezers were, opening the “Employees Only” door. “Take as long as you need, no rush at all.”
Peter thanked him and slipped into the small room, shutting the door behind himself. It was cramped, but he managed to clear a few boxes so he could sit on the cold floor. Removing his backpack (well, Cheung’s backpack. His name is embroidered on the front pocket), he unzipped the material and grabbed the suit inside. Only needing the mask, he gently folded the body back into the bag and slipped the remaining fabric on his head.
“Hello, Peter. Will you be patrolling this evening?” Right, Karen. He almost forgot about her, the past day and a half have been so overwhelming.
“Hi Karen. Uh, no. I just need to call Ned.” In the darkness of the backroom, Peter’s anxiety began to rise. Small, tight spaces are not his favorite. “Help!I can’t breathe. I’m stuck, I can’t move. I can’t-” The memory came surging back, but he tried his best to smother it.
“Of course, Peter. You have one missed call and one voicemail from Mrs. Potts yesterday at 11:37 pm. Would you like me to play the recording?”
“Oh! Yeah Karen that would be great.” Maybe she called him for an update? He hoped she didn’t need anything from him, he would feel even more guilty for missing the call. Peter sat in silence for a moment before a transcription appeared on his monitor and Pepper’s voice rang out.
“Hello, I wanted to send out a general message to all the Avengers; unfortunately I don’t have time to call you all personally. If you’re receiving this, I wanted to let you know that Tony is doing okay. We… we lost him for a minute, but the doctors here in Wakanda are doing everything they can to keep him alive… He had to have his arm amputated. But you know Tony, he’ll just build a bigger and better one. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but he’s been steady through the night. They had to put him in a medically induced coma… We should be able to move him to the compound in a week if his vitals are good. I’m sorry if I don’t get back to you, things have been super hectic here. I’ll give another update if he’s cleared for the move.”
“End of message. Would you like to call Mrs. Potts?” Karen’s cheery voice did nothing to make the feeling of emptiness vacate his body. This is too much. Too much too much too much too much-
Peter gasped and ripped the mask off his head, throwing it across the small space. His hands were shaking but he couldn’t feel it, having gone numb at some point. Mr. Stark… he was alive? Oh god, his arm is gone! He’s in a coma! Will he be okay? Mr. Stark was alive, but he had died. His condition is critical. Peter is spiraling. The concrete floor seemed awfully comfortable as he dropped onto his side, rolling to his back. Aunt May, I wanna go home. Where are you? Peter was hyperventilating, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his hands clawed at his heart. I’m having a panic attack. I’m having a panic attack. God, somebody help me! I can’t breathe! May! May please, Mr. Stark, I can’t breathe. I’m stuck down here! The boxes at his feet went flying as he kicked out, his body flailing as if he was being choked of all air. I’m alone, I’m all alone. I killed everyone. I’m a failure. I don’t deserve the suit. I want to hug Aunt May. Can you kiss it better? Please, where are you? I wanna go home. I want Tony-
“Peter?”
“Peter!”
“Pete! Kid, you need to calm down,” A bright light flooded the closet-sized room and it stunned him for a second, halting his rapid decline . He locked eyes with Mr. Delmar, his breaths still coming out in short rasps.
“Mr… Mr. Delmar?”
“That’s me, kid. Hey, c’mon let’s get you outta there. You don’t sound too good. You don’t look it either.”
“But Mr. Stark- Tony- he… his arm-” Somehow his breathing kicked up even faster than before, startling Mr. Delmar and prompted him to grab Peter’s shoulder. With a firm tug, he guided Peter into standing and shuffling out of the room, leaning on him for support.
“I- I gotta see… I gotta see Mr. Stark, I need to see him. What… what if-” Words kept tumbling out of his mouth (too much too much too much-) His body hit the outside wall and he slid down it, not having felt Mr. Delmar let go of him. He just wanted everything to stop. The buzzing of the freezers was too loud and it was too bright and he could hear Mr. Delmar’s blood pumping through his heart and into his veins. It’s too much it’s too much too much too much-
His vision blacks.