Holding To The Ground

When Peter got back to the apartment, May took his phone.

”You just use it to talk bad about me to your friends,” she told him, her voice venomous and accusing. And he was so exhausted and afraid of her hard gaze that he just handed it to her, tears in his eyes. And when she kissed his forehead and whispered that she was all he needed anyways, he nodded his agreement and trudged quietly to bed, where he crawled between the sheets and pulled the quilts up to his chin, trembling until the warm waters of sleep washed over his body.

May didn’t come home on Saturday. Or on Sunday morning. But when she came home on Sunday night with a bag of his favorite chocolates and let him pick the movie, he smiled at her love, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. It seemed that whatever pleasant emotion that bubbled up within him was bogged down with a heavy sickness, because he knew that joy and love and comfort were wasted on someone like him.

Even so, even as it hurt, the warmth of May’s unconditional love felt so, so good.

And that love kept him warm throughout Sunday night and Monday morning. A small smile played on his lips during his first four classes, even when Flash’s assaults began to turn merciless; his smile remained as he reminded himself to fall limp when Flash pulled his ankle in the middle of his track class’s clump. He was trampled by at least fifteen students before anyone helped him up. And yeah, the bruises sucked, but he was healed by lunchtime anyways.

He watched the last yellow bruise fade into his skin as Ned set his lunch tray across from him. He opened the Jello cup placed in front of him almost mechanically, shoveling the jelly into his mouth as if on instinct. As always, MJ sat a safe distance away, her nose in a novel as thick as her head.

”What’s up,” greeted Ned.

”Nothing,” Peter said. “How was your weekend?”

”I mean, nothing really happened. I just kinda hung out. You weren’t answering your phone, though.”

Peter took another bite. “Oh, yeah. May took my phone.”

”What? Why?”

Peter shrugged. “I went to Mr. Stark’s without telling her. She’s getting really mad when I’m not home, lately.”

”Well, you know,” said Ned. “She probably just gets really worried now that she knows about...you know...” Ned lowered his voice to a pathetic version of a whisper. “The internship.”

Peter drained the last of his dessert. “You think?” He asked.

”Yeah, man. When my mom found out how dangerous my walk home from school was she didn’t let me stay out for five months. She made me get a tracker on my phone, but you know me.”

”God, Ned, you hacked your own phone?”

“Well, yeah! What was I gonna do, skip out on decathalon?”

Peter hummed. After a long moment of silence interrupted by chewing, Peter said, “So, like, this is normal? May’s not overreacting or anything?” Even after all she’d done for him, a seed of doubt still hung heavy on his heart.

”Yeah Peter, don’t worry about it. She just wants you to be safe. She’s gone all Aunt-crazy, but she’ll be fine soon. You just gotta wait it out.”

Peter nodded, content with Ned’s answer. 

“Hey, you want your eggs?”

Ned scoffed. ”Um, yeah? Go beg MJ if you’re still that hungry.”

MJ made a rude hand gesture from across the table, her eyes still glued to the book.

Peter looked back to Ned with wide eyes. “Absolutely not,” He said.

——

Peter came home to an empty apartment.

He dropped his bag to the floor and slipped off his shoes, calling, “May, I’m home!”

No response. He crept into the kitchen, scanning the small room.

”...May?”

Silence reigned supreme. May was nowhere to be found. The bedrooms stayed dark, no one echoed his greetings in the bathroom. He was alone.

Peter sat down on the couch, his hands clasped in front of him. Without his phone or Spider-Man, there wasn’t much for him to do. He’d re-read every book in the house ten times over, and although May didn’t explicitly ban him from using the television, being grounded from his phone usually meant being without technology altogether.

He eyed his backpack. He might as well get ahead on some homework, right? Summa cum laude wasn’t going to earn itself.

But twenty minutes into his analyzation of Things Fall Apart, he found that he couldn’t focus on the work before him. Every few seconds someone would shout or a siren would scream by, and he would be reminded of all the good he could be doing instead of sitting around uselessly. But he shook the thought away; it was already five o’clock, and he had promised May he wouldn’t go out tonight.

He tapped his pen absently on the table. People out there could handle themselves, right? They’d always survived before he came around, and he was never particularly worried about the citizens before he got his powers.

As someone smashed a bottle three blocks away, Peter realized that that was because he had never been able to hear their anguish. 

Checking his watch, he stood suddenly. May probably wouldn’t be home for a few hours, right? He could just sweep the area for danger and come straight home, sitting on the couch when May came back. She’d never find out, and he could save a few lives while he snuck out. Most teenagers did way worse when they ran away.

He changed quickly into his suit with that thought as a constant reassurance. As he strapped on his webshooters he considered just giving up and staying in. He felt dirty lying to May, even if it was for a good cause.

A choked cry for help slipping through the walls threw that thought out the window.

Only minutes later, Peter had strung up a mugger and walked home the shaken up but overall fine victim. She gave him a long hug before she stepped into her apartment, and he smiled beneath the mask.

That night, the people of New York didn’t much need his help. He broke up a few drunken fights and stopped another mugging, but he mainly just waved at pedestrians and flipped for tourists. The time sped by as he laughed into the breeze, flying through the air with not a care in the world. The buffeting wind stripped away all of his worries, all of his insecurities until there was nothing left but the calm knowledge that he could save twenty lives in a night.

He decided to turn back home when the moon rose over the city’s skyline. Sharp anxiety began to bubble up in him as he swung towards his apartment, but he forced it down as best he could. It’s not like he could change anything now, right? If she was home, she was home, and he would just face the consequences and go to bed.

It didn’t help, because something in him knew that wasn’t true.

He slid in through his window, taking off his mask but not changing out of his suit. The lights in the house were off and everything was blissfully silent. He breathed out a sigh of relief; he was still alone. His spider sense buzzed a warning, but he disregarded it as leftover anxiety from the trip home.

He padded to the kitchen. His footsteps echoed quietly off of the faded walls, and the soft light that shone through the windows threw eerie shadows across the floors. He opened the fridge, squinting at the harsh light inside. They didn’t have much; orange juice and some leftover Mexican takeout were all that was left in the white drawers. 

With a sigh and a growling stomach, Peter grabbed a small container of dirty rice and closed the fridge. Blanketed in darkness once more, he sat at the table to eat his cold meal.

As he swallowed the first bite, his sensitive ears picked up something he hadn’t noticed before; a heartbeat, growing ever closer, and another, louder thumping. Footsteps. From inside the house.

Peter stood slowly, abandoning his dinner, and crept to the doorway. He curled his hands into fists as the intruder twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

Thankfully, Peter never threw a punch, because standing in the doorway was May, her hair in a ruffled bun and her hands clasping a worn bathrobe tight around her body.

She clicked the light switch on, and Peter shielded his eyes.

”May!” He exclaimed, jumping backwards. “What are—what are you doing home?”

”I live here, Peter,” she said, her voice hard, and cold fear flooded his veins. “But obviously, you don’t.”

His stomach plunged down to his feet. Her face was stony, but with the way her fingers twitched, he could tell it wouldn’t be for long. ”May, I’m really sorry I left when you told me not to but you weren’t home and—“

”And that was a good reason to disobey the one fucking rule I set for you?”

Peter took another step back. May hardly ever cursed. In fact, he wasn’t surely he could remember the last time he’d heard her use such language against him, if she ever had.

Peter said, “I’m—I’m so sorry, I just didn’t think. I swear it won’t happen again.”

”Oh, but it will, won’t it? This is the second time you’ve come in late.”

Peter gulped. His spider sense began to rise to a high shriek, every hair on his body standing on end. His clenched and unclenches by his fists on instinct, as if preparing to fight a villain. But he would never hit May. He would never have a reason to.

She continued, approaching him slowly, her voice rising with each word, “I’ve taken care of you all these years. Even after everything you’ve done to me, and you just run around in your own little world like I don’t exist. When was the last time you did something for me, huh? Never. You just abandon me for the first fucking butterfly to flutter on by. I’ve given up everything for you, you little bitch, and you still won’t listen to a word I say! I don’t know why I even wanted to spend time with you tonight when you clearly don’t care about me!”

Tears began to brim in Peter’s eyes, but even through them he could see May’s fuming face, red and almost swollen with rage. With a trembling voice, he said, “May, you know I love you—“

”But not enough to even want to talk to me! Not enough to listen to the one rule I gave you! I could have banned you from doing your spider thing, but I didn’t, because I know that you care about it. Maybe I should have, though, right? I think the power isn’t getting to your head head, and you need to be taken down a peg or two.”

Peter’s heart fell at the very thought. Without Spider-Man, he would be a total waste. He would just be another kid with no potential and no one who truly cared about him. Of course, he always had May. She was family. But if he kept going the way he was...maybe he would lose her, too.

May continued, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson by the second. ”You just want to go live out your stupid little superhero fantasy and leave your lame aunt all alone! How many lives did you save today, Peter? Who did you help when you decided to choose your super friends over me?”

Peter thought back to the night; not one person he ‘saved’ had been in any true danger. They all could have made it out without them, even if they were down a few dollars by the time it was all over. “None,” he whispered.

May scoffed. “None.” She crossed her arms, shifted her weight. 

“None!” She repeated, her voice suddenly a shout. Peter cringed back, curling into his torso. His tears finally began to spill over, slipping down his skin and dripping off of his cheekbones.

”So you really chose a night out over me. You just want to go have fun and forget about any responsibility! You think you’re an Avenger, Peter? You’re not. You’ve never saved a single person, not really. All you do is let people die. You kill. You’re a murderer. And do you know who you really killed?”

Peter’s entire body trembled. He didn’t answer, but he already knew the name she would say. A heavy sob slipped between his lips.

May stalked over and grabbed his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. And he found them hot, blazing, a sick, twisted perversion of the loving warmth he remembered so fondly. Spittle flew from her mouth as she yelled, “Do you know who you killed?”

Peter nodded, sobbing openly now. His body heaved with each cry. May’s grip was too tight and his jaw ached in her hold. Her long nails cut crescent moons in his skin.

”You. Killed. My. Husband!” With the final word, May struck Peter across the face. He crumpled to the ground, gasping in shock. He hardly had time to raise a hand to the flowing cut on his cheekbone before her foot connected with his side. He cried out, curling in on himself. He scrunched his eyes shut, feeling the tears mix with the stream of hot blood.

Above him, May watched as he sobbed and shook. After a long moment of silence interrupted only by his soft moans and cries, she sniffed. “Clean your face and go to bed,” she said. She tore her eyes away from her shivering nephew and walked back to her room, clicking the light back off as she went.

Slowly, shakily, Peter sat up. He sniffed, feeling the cold air on his wet face. He looked around the room, unsure what to do now. The tile beneath him was too cold on his skin, the suit too tight. Everything felt like too much.

He stood up as if he weren’t in control and trudged towards his room. He wanted to text Ned, turn to a friend, but that didn’t happen. It couldn’t, with his cell phone under May’s control. Peter shivered at the thought of her and ice flooded his veins.

He pushed May out of his mind. In his room, it was just him. No family. No Spider-Man.  Keeping the lights out, he stripped out of his suit and crawled beneath the sheets.

His mind was blank. Every breath hurt.

He thought of nothing. Was the blood staining his pillow?

He pushed away the pain, the night’s memories. How long had he been crying?

Peter closed his eyes against the cold and let himself slip into a silent sleep.