________
It was cold. That’s all he knew, the cold.
It was everywhere and there was no hiding from it. His own body didn’t even have an ounce of warmth to it. His breath was icy no matter how hard he tried, his skin was freezing. And it hurt. It always hurt.
Peter didn’t want this, he didn’t want to go. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it all happened, on Titan. He saw the bug girl disappear, then Drax, then Star Lord, and that’s when he felt it. It stung like a bee sting, but all over his body. He knew what was happening but he didn’t want to believe it. The second he felt it his heart dropped and his breathing stopped.
You’re fine you’re okay you’re going to be okay, he said to himself, trying his absolute hardest to believe it.
But he knew what was going to happen.
His ears were ringing and the feeling turned into the sharpest pins and needles he’s every felt. He remembered learning about the Titanic in fifth grade, and how the survivors that jumped into the water described it as the coldest they have ever felt. He remembers reading them describe it as red hot swords stabbing them over and over and over again. So cold it felt like you were on fire.
That’s what it felt like.
He didn’t even notice that Mr. Strange had gone too. He just stumbled forward with the last bit of strength he had. “Mr Stark?,” was all the he could muster out, “I don’t feel so good.”
He didn’t even have words for what he was feeling. He felt like he was dying. Because he was. He was dying. And he couldn’t stop it.
A small part of him hoped that Mr. Stark could save him. He always found a way. But the second he looked in his eyes, he knew he couldn’t save him. Peter had no choice but to fall into his arms and plead to the universe to not let him die.
He tried not to think about it.
But what else is he supposed to think about? Wherever he was was pitch black and cold, he couldn’t even feel his own body. He didn’t have anything to ground himself. He couldn’t even tell if he was standing or sitting or laying down, he couldn’t feel anything. When he first got there he just cried. He cried and cried and cried. The last thing he remembers seeing is Mr. Stark’s face, full of hopelessness and devastation. And then he woke up here, wherever it was. It was like waking up in a bad dream.
He didn’t know how long he had been there, but he just wanted to go home. He wanted to see May and Ned and Mr. Stark and his stupid classmates and he even missed Flash. That made him smile to himself, he never thought he would ever miss Flash. But right now more than ever he wanted normalcy. He wanted Ned geeking over his new Star Wars lego set, he wanted May accidentally burning the meatloaf and ending up at the Thai place they’ve become regulars at, he wanted Flash calling him a dumb name in the halls, he wanted to groan over his physics homework, he wanted to be so excited about patrolling after school, he wanted Michelle to call him a loser at lunch, and her to make fun of him at academic decathlon, and her to shoulder check him in the halls, and her to-
Wait, he thought, What the fuck?
In the middle of his brain rambling he found himself thinking of Michelle over and over again.
It kind of shocked him out of crying.
Why the hell am I thinking of her?
He should be thinking of Ned and May more than anything. He should be missing going to comic shops with Ned, and movie night with May, and even those short moments he had with Uncle Ben. He should be thinking of them. He should be missing them right now. And he does, but all he can think about right now was how much like vanilla Michelle smelled like. He didn’t really notice it until right now.
Whenever she poked him in the hallways, or when they were paired up for decathlon practice, or when they had to be partners in chemistry class. Anytime he was close to her. She smelled like vanilla. Like a batch of cupcakes that were fresh out of the oven, which was strange because he always thought she’d smell like Old Spice or something. That was the most MJ thing he could think of her doing. He could imagine her doing it as a form of protest against the patriarchal standards of women or something. That made him smile.
And the more he thought of that, the more he was thinking of her. He had to focus on not crying for like, 5 minutes. Every time he thought of Ned and May and Queens he just thought of how he wasn’t with them, and how they’re both wishing he was there. And he wants to be there. And it just sends him spiraling and he sobs and sobs for hours on end until there’s nothing left. But thinking of MJ, didn’t make his throat close up or his heart sink. It made him think of that time during decathlon practice when they were paired up and Flash tripped over a chair while trying to swagger across the room and MJ was trying SO hard not to laugh and Peter was trying not to laugh and seeing MJ with her hand plastered over her mouth made him lose it and he just burst into laughter and she lost it too and suddenly the whole team was cracking up while Flash was trying to play it cool and while lost in the midst of it all Peter and MJ were bumping into each other and slapping the others arm and Peter swears MJ leaned her head on him for half a second. That was probably the happiest memory he has with her. Usually they don’t talk, and when they do it’s almost always school related with the occasional instance of MJ calling him a nerd, but that one rare moment where they were both caught up in the moment of Flash being a complete idiot and they just were just two sorta-friends laughing together.
Now that he thought more about it, the more she became clear in his mind. It doesn’t really make sense to him, but whenever he usually thought of her she was just an afterthought. Another classmate, another random lab partner, another person calling him names. He usually shrugged her off, but now, stuck in the dark, she was all he could focus on.
Little things he would have never noticed before now became all he could think of. When they were laughing and she was leaning against him and he could feel her warmth. Now that he’s thinking about it, he didn’t think they ever touched before. Besides the casual poke or shoulder check from her, they never actually touched.
He wiped the leftover tears from his cheeks, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Not like it made a difference, it was pitch black either way. But when his eyes were closed he could at least pretend. Pretend he was somewhere else.
He thought back to that moment with MJ, how their shoulders were touching and her hands knocking into his, her head on his should for that fleeting second. He focused on it, trying to remember how everything felt. How she felt. He immersed himself back in that moment. Her body warmth bleeding into his arm, her hair tickling his neck for that moment, how soft she felt, the strong smell of warm vanilla that came with her closeness. And that opened the floodgates.
All of the sudden, he was overwhelmed with memories of her. Fleeting moments with her. Moments he had previously written off, ignored.
Her shoulder brushing against his in the hallways, their hands briefly touching in chemistry class when they were trying to figure out the correct mixture of chemicals, her boney finger poking him in the back of the neck leaving a mini trail of goosebumps in its wake, how he would feel her eyes on him during lunch but every time he went to look at her she quickly moved her eyes back to her book, how her fingers curled in anticipation and her eyes widened when she got to an exciting part of her book, and how throughout his day there’s always a faint smell of vanilla in the air, and the sweater he was wearing that day at decathlon practice now smells like her.
Moments he thought were the least important thing in the world. Now, she was the only thing holding him together. Now, those moments mean the world to him. His heart bloomed, he could feel her warmth on his body again, he could smell the vanilla, he could feel her frizzy curls brush against his neck. He could feel everything. He could feel.
The world, his world, wasn’t pitch black and freezing and filled with pain anymore. Suddenly, it smelled like freshly baked cupcakes and his body tickled just like when she would poke him in the halls. The tingling spread from his neck to his whole body, everywhere he could remember a moment with MJ he focused on. His neck where her hair tickled, his shoulder where her head rested, his arm and sides where she would poke him, his knees where sometimes they would knock into MJ’s when they sat next to each other, his feet where she would sometimes purposefully step on his feet because she thought it would be funny.
He felt his body come back alive. His soul come back alive. He mentally clawed his way out of the dark and freezing cave he was trapped in. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel, all he need was one more step-
He opened his eyes.
And he was in his home again.
__________
Everything looked just like he remembered it. There was the half empty bowl of cereal he left on the table. His jacket that May told him not to forget laying on the back of the couch, which he of course forgot. The note he left May on the coffee table that read “Running late for the bus, Love You!” because he overslept and she still hadn’t come home from her night shift. His heart felt like someone had shattered into a million pieces. He tried to pick up the note but his hand went straight through the table.
He tried again and the same thing happened. He tried to pick up the jacket, a random mug on the counter, May’s keys, something, anything.
But he couldn’t. His hand just went straight through it.
“No….” was all he could whisper to himself.
He wanted to be home. He wanted to give May a big hug and sit with her on the couch and watch some crappy Hallmark movie that they can make fun of the whole time. He just wanted to be home.
Peter thought he was in another weird dream world, just like the void. He had dreamt up another place to be trapped. He sat on the couch defeated. At least he could sit, he just couldn’t touch. Or feel. He tried his hardest to focus on feeling something, the texture of the couch maybe. But it was like trying to feel air. Useless.
He looked down at himself, and was surprised he was in his shirt and zip up and jeans from the day before, when he was in the school bus on the way to the MoMA. He expected to be stuck in the Iron Spider suit, trapped in it like a coffin. But no, he was wearing the stupid shirt that said “Lettuce, the taste of sadness” on it with a picture of salad. He remembered when May got it for him, she had left for work that morning and returned the night with that shirt. Peter remembered her walking in exclaiming “Look what I got you!! Isn’t it funny! It made me smile I love it,” all while beaming at him. Peter thought it was kinda lame, but then found himself wearing it more often than not. He wished he could see May again. He would give anything to see her smile right now.
And almost like the universe was listening to him, May emerged from his room.
Peter shot up, “May!!” he shouted. She just continued to shuffle to their tiny kitchen.
“May, it’s me, it’s Peter, I’m here. Please hear me…” he begged as he followed her.
She can’t hear you, his heart told him. He shoved that voice deep down.
No, no. She has to hear me. She has to know I’m here.
“May, please,” He continued to plead while she carried on and got out a mug and the herbal tea they kept in the back of the cupboard because May said she would try to get into drinking tea instead of coffee, but never did.
“May please listen to me, I need you, please, I can’t do this without you,” His throat started to close up again, and he felt his heart start to sink.
It hurt so bad. He could see May, she was right in front of him. But he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t tell her I’m here I’m okay I’m not dead I miss you so much I need you please. He could tell she had been crying. She didn’t have her glasses on and her eyes were red and puffy. Her nose was red on the tip and she was wearing the sweater she always wore when she was sad. It was all her saw her in after Ben died. That sight jolted his whole body.
She thought he was dead. To her, he was dead.
Peter didn’t even know if he was dead. He might as well have been. He didn’t know where he was or what was going on or why May couldn’t hear him. He just wanted all of this to be over. He wanted to have May give him one of her big warm hugs that she gives him after he’s had a bad day. The hugs she used to give him when he was little and she was tasked with taking him to the doctor because his parents were too busy and he had to get a shot, which he hated, and afterwards she would call him “the bravest boy in the whole universe” and wrap him up in a giant hug and then would take him to get ice cream, against his parents wishes.
May has always meant the world to him. And seeing her like this, alone, miserable. It was enough to make him sob. So he did.
Peter burst into tears on the spot, all while trying to reach out to her. Willing some part, any part of him to stay long enough to touch her. But he couldn’t. And he just had to stand there and cry while May was right in front of him, completely unaware. He watched her pour some hot water from the kettle on the stove into the mug with the tea bag. Peter didn’t even realize there was a kettle on the stove, he couldn’t really focus on anything, except for how badly he wanted her to know he was there.
She stared at the mug for a while, looking up briefly to look at the Peter’s note on the coffee table. Her face froze, and he half expected her to start crying, but she just looked tired. There was a deep, deep sadness in her eyes. And that sight cut Peter so deep there would be a scar on his heart from it. Forever.
May quickly focused back on the mug, trying not to linger on the note. She picked it up and started to make her way back to Peter’s room, walking straight through him. It was the weirdest sensation Peter had every felt, like a gust of air going straight through your entire body. It kinda shocked him out of crying for a bit, as he wiped his nose and leftover tears on the back of his sleeve.
“It’s still a little too hot, I would give it a minute before you drink it,” May said flatly while walking down the hall.
Who is she talking to, Peter thought.
Why would she have someone over, who would she let come over. When Ben died she didn’t let anyone come over, people kept messaging her with their condolences and asking if they could bring over a casserole or something. She didn’t let anyone in. She closed herself up in their apartment. The only person she talked to was Peter. She closes herself off when she’s sad. She tried her absolute hardest to be present after Ben died, but she couldn’t. Something broke in her spirit when his parents died, his mom and dad, her sister and her brother-in-law. Then her husband. May had lost so much in her life. But she always said to him, “I’ve lost a lot Peter, but out of it all I got the best gift. You.”
Just then, Peter started to connect the dots. Peter was dead apparently, the tea, the holding back tears.
Wait, he thought as he followed her into his room, Is she…
Then he saw her.
“Thanks, Ms. Parker,” Michelle said, accepting the mug of tea from her hands.
“Please, honey, call me May,” she replied with a motherly affection in her tone.
“MJ,” he whispered to himself.
She looked rough. She was wearing a beige sweater he never saw in her before. She had on her usual ratty and ripped jeans, but this pair had paint stains all over. Her hair was down and frizzy mess, and she kept tucking the same strand behind her ear, but it kept popping back out every time she moved. Her eyes were the worst. She had deep, blue bags under them, and they were also bloodshot and puffy like she had just been crying. But the look in her eyes, that was heartbreaking. She looked exhausted and shellshocked, he could see in her eyes that she had lost everything.
He didn’t know why she was here, he didn’t think he meant that much to her. Some part of him felt like he willed the universe for her to be here, or maybe it was just a coincidence. He frankly didn’t care, he was just so happy to see her. Something started to flutter in his heart, nothing too big, just a tiny beat like the flap of a butterfly. Small, yet significant in a way.
It had been silent in the room for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. MJ scratched at the side of her thumb, a nervous tick Peter assumed.
“I’m…..I’m sorry…..I didn’t know where to go,” she said while trailing off. She wouldn’t take her eyes off the floor, and he couldn’t help but notice that she was shaking a little.
“Oh honey, don’t apologize,” May started with her motherly tone again, “We need each other now more than ever, what’s left of us at least.”
“I just….can’t stop thinking of…..what I last said to him” MJ started but then trailed off again. She was struggling to get any words out, she was trying to hard not to cry. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to put her cup of tea on his desk so she wouldn’t spill it.
In the midst of all the chaos and confusion, Peter thought the sight of MJ in his room was pretty funny. Also a little embarrassing. He never thought in a million years that she would be in his house, let alone his room. He suddenly became very aware of the embarrassing things he has just laying out in the open. All his Star Wars figurines, various stuffed animals from his youth, dorky t shirts, and dumb pictures of him and Ned taped to the wall. He imagined her making fun of everything and calling him a nerd, but as she looked around now she just looked sad.
May was still silent, looking at her, willing her to finish her sentence.
“It was something stupid…….we were at decathlon practice and…...and,” her voice started to waiver, and she took a beat to swallow roughly, trying to push down her tears. “And he got a question wrong and I just….laughed and called him a loser like I always do, but…….but now…”
Her voice squeaked at the end of her sentence, and May knew she couldn’t finish it this time.
“Michelle, you can’t think like that, we can’t think like that,” she said softly while taking a step towards her and gently resting a hand on her crossed arms. Peter’s eyes stung with the slightest of tears at the sight. He was jealous, he wanted more than anything to touch something. And while that was true, a part of his soul said I need to touch MJ, just once. He tried to ignore it.
“If we do that, we’ll never learn to move on,” May continued, “We can’t lurk on what we last said or what we should’ve done differently. It won’t change anything.”
May was running MJ’s arm with her thumb, she did the same when she comforted Peter. He missed that, he wished he had that. He moved toward the two of them, finally moving out of the doorway. He slowly reached his hand out to try to touch MJ, but then retracted at the last second. He didn’t want to deal with the heartbreak that came with her hand going straight through her. This close up, he could see a single tear escape from the side of her eye, hidden by her hair. He had never seen MJ cry, he never thought he would. It was the most heartbreaking scene he wished he never had to see.
“Have you seen Ned lately?” May asked, changing the subject as soon as she saw her cry.
“Ned!” Peter gasped loudly. Please don’t let him
be gone too please please please please….
“Yeah he’s um…...he’s okay, he’s just been with his family,” MJ slowly replied.
Peter felt the weight of the world lift off his chest of a moment. Ned was okay. He’s okay. That’s all that mattered.
“He uh, he lost both of his sisters though…...so he’s been….a bit more closed off,” MJ finished.
And just like that the weight was placed right back on Peter’s heart. Ned lost his sisters. Ned loved his little sisters to death, they were all he talked about. He loved them so much.
And he lost them.
Then it hit Peter that Ned had lost him too. He was somewhere in the world, in Queens, without his two little sisters and his best friend. The weight on Peter’s chest got heavier and heavier with every thought. He looked around the room for something to ground him, but everywhere he looked was just more pain. Pictures of him and Ned were everywhere, the Lego sets they put together, the stuffed lion he won for him at the carnival all those years ago. Everywhere he looked his heart got heavier and heavier. He couldn’t breathe enough to even cry. It felt like the room was collapsing in on him. His knees felt weak, he didn’t even know if his body was real, but this pain felt very real. He couldn’t stand, and he collapsed onto his bed as his legs gave out. He placed his head in his hands, running his fingers into his hair and gripping as hard as he could, trying to feel anything. He couldn’t. He pleaded, begged the universe to touch, feel anything. Anything at all.
“How about you?” May asked MJ, continuing their conversation.
Peter kept trying to take deep breaths but they weren’t working, he just felt like he was dying all over again.
“I’m an only child so, dodged a bullet there,” MJ replied flatly, trying to deflect with a joke, “My mom is still here, um I don’t know about my dad though. He lives all the way in Rochester, and we haven’t heard from him yet.”
She took a moment to pull her sweater sleeves down over her hand and wipe her cheek, “We keep calling but he’s not answering the phone.”
Another beat of silence passed over the two, Peter was trying to focus on anything but how he was feeling. He was happy MJ still had her mom, he never really heard about her except for the occasional name drop when she was picking her up from decathlon practice. Suddenly Peter wanted to know all about MJ. What she hates, what she loves, her parents, her favorite book, he wanted to be her friend. But it was too late for that now. It was far too late.
“It’s been a whole month since…...since it happened……” MJ continued. This whole time she hadn’t lifted her head, refusing to meet May’s eyes. But this thought was too much for her, and she needed to look up.
“Why did they both leave me?” She choked out while finally looking into May’s eyes.
Peter lifted his head at that. He saw that she was crying now, tears silently streaming down both of her cheeks. May slowly lifted her hand to MJ’s cheeks to wipe away her tears.
“I know honey, I know,” she said softly while wiping the last of her cheeks with her ring finger. “I miss him too.”
That sentence was like a bullet to his anxiety. Did…..MJ…..miss me?, he thought to himself. While she didn’t say it directly, he knows she was talking about him. Just like May did. He wanted to reach out to her and hold and her hand and just tell her he missed her too. That she got him out of the void.
The sharp ring of the landline pierced the silence that hung over the room, making both May and MJ jump a bit.
“I’ll get that, try to relax sweetie,” May said with one last arm rub before she left the room.
MJ finally uncrossed her arms and Peter could see how badly she was holding in her shaking. Her arms were shaking so badly it looked as if she were freezing. She ran her hand over her arms trying to soothe the shivering. “Calm down, you have to calm down,” she whispered to herself. Peter felt utterly hopeless, completely invisible to her, unable to help or console her. It hurt him all over again. This whole process of being a ghost in his own home was the most painful experience, it was like having his heart ripped out and then shoved back into his chest over and over and over again. He imagined it wasn’t that different for those that were left behind. Those who lost family, friends, lovers. He didn’t know which category he fell in with MJ.
“I didn’t know I meant anything to you,” He said out loud, knowing she couldn’t hear him but finding some comfort in saying it. “You know it’s funny, I didn’t really think of you that much until today,” He continued, “Or a month, I guess. It’s been like a few hours for me. But I guess time doesn’t work in the void, or whatever that place is.”
He saw her now looking around his room, as the figurines and pictures and random nick nacks on his desk. He saw her finger gently brush against some things, a mini keychain of the Death Star, a picture of him and Ned taped to the wall, a Princess Leia figurine. She picked up the joke book Ned got for him last Christmas, and flipped to the pages with dog ears. Peter had thought it was the stupidest gift in the world and he absolutely loved it. He would skim it most nights before bed and dog ear the pages with what he thought with the funniest jokes and circle them with a pencil. He usually told them to May because she was the only person who actually found them funny.
He saw MJ read a few and smile to herself, and Peter’s heart leapt. He had never seen her really smile, and it was beautiful. But there was still something heartbreaking about it, her eyes were still harboring so much pain. He thought to himself what her smile would look like when she was happy, and she couldn’t help but smile. It would be like a glorious sunrise, fleeting, so beautiful you can’t look away, and unforgettable.
Peter shook his head as to clear his thoughts, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep thinking of you and I don’t know why. Why you?” He continued with fiddling with his sleeves. Even though she couldn’t hear him, he was still terrified to say all of this out loud. It felt like he was baring his soul, and in a way he kind of was.
She put the book down and scanned the rest of his desk, when suddenly her face froze and her eyes changed. Her eyes were locked on a framed picture on Peter’s desk. It was a picture of the whole academic decathlon team, right after they won in DC and came back to Midtown. He remembers that day the picture was taken, everyone was on his case since he wasn’t even there when they won. They kept saying he shouldn’t even be in the picture, but then MJ was the one that told everyone to shut up and leave him alone. Not surprisingly they obliged, since she was the one that answered the final question and got them that trophy, and everyone was kinda scared of her.
She slowly picked up the picture frame and continued to stare at it. Peter couldn’t read her face, it went from smile to complete stone in three seconds flat. She was focused on one part of the picture, eyes unwavering. That was when he noticed her legs. They were starting to wobble just like his did. Her knees were starting to give out and she too ended up seated on Peter’s bed, right next to him.
He could see what she was looking at now. In the top left corner was him, Ned, and MJ. He was doing his classic school picture smile, closed lip simple smile, Ned was beaming with the widest smile he had ever seen, and MJ was right behind Peter smirking while doing bunny ears over his head. Peter hadn’t looked at the picture in a while, and didn’t really notice her gesture. He remembers getting the pictures the next day and groaning to himself about MJ being classic annoying MJ. It meant nothing to him then, but now, it means the world to him now.
MJ was so close to him, just the slightest movement and their knees could touch. Not like it mattered, he would go straight through her anyways. Weirdly enough, he got the faintest scent of vanilla. He was probably imagining it.
He noticed the iron grip MJ had on the frame. Her knuckles were starting to turn white, and he was scared she was going to break it. He also noticed she hadn’t taken a breath since she laid eyes on it. Now he looked at her face, and saw pools of tears resting on her eyes. She refused to blink, knowing if she would start crying she wouldn’t be able to stop. She slowly took one hand and gingerly placed her finger on her and Peter.
And then she started to cry.
It was soft at first, she blinked and the tears streamed down her face like a river. She took a shaky breath in for the first time in forever, and started to cry even harder. With each breath she took so started to cry harder and harder. Peter couldn’t stand it. She shakes when she cries, he thought to himself. Her whole body was shaking, and she couldn’t stop. The tears were pouring out of her now, and she was trying as hard as she could to be quiet, but it was near impossible.
Her sobs were the worst sound in the world, Peter felt tears of his own stream down his cheeks. He felt hopeless. He couldn’t touch her, talk to her, help her. He couldn’t do anything. All he could do was sit and watch. She cried and cried and cried, hugging the picture frame to her chest. She rocked back and forth all while shaking like a leaf.
“MJ…,” He whispered, “Please don’t cry, please I’m okay..”
But was he? Peter was technically dead, to May and Ned and MJ he was dead, and there was no getting him back. He didn’t know what this was, if he was a ghost or this was all a dream, if he was still stuck in the freezing inky blackness of the void and this was all a hallucination. He didn’t know. He just had hope. He could hope this was real, he could hope he would come back.
He hoped he could hold MJ in his arms while she cried.
It all became too much for him, his heart was beating faster and faster with each second. Something deep deep inside him spoke and said Reach out. He didn’t know what that meant, or how he could ever do that. He was invisible to her.
Reach out, it said again.
He watched as MJ looked back at the picture and laid her hand over where her and Peter were photographed. Her cries were softer now, but more desperate.
“Please,” she sobbed out, “Please come back, come back to me.”
Reach out, now.
Peter took a leap of faith and ever so slowly lifted his hand and went to place it on MJ’s. He hovered an inch over her hand for a second, scared to see it go straight through again. He was about to pull away, when a force unbeknownst to him moved his hand and closed that last inch.
His hand didn’t go through.
It landed right on top of her hand caressing the picture, the sensation of her skin on his startled him so much he stopped crying. He could feel the warmth, her skin, even the texture of her sweater at was halfway up her hands. She was soft and warm, something cracked open in his chest and it felt like sunlight was pouring in, drowning him.
He didn’t even notice that MJ stopped crying. She had stopped breathing. He looked at her and noticed she was looking right at him. Right in his eyes. She looked like she had just seen a ghost, and technically, she had. They sat there, frozen, looking into each other’s eyes.
“Peter…” she barely whispered.
He froze. She can see me, he thought. That feeling of sunlight in his chest was overwhelming, it’s like it was pulling him away from this. From her. But he couldn’t let go, not yet.
“You….can see me?” He choked out.
She just looked into his eyes. Her face was written with disbelief and shock, but her eyes were filled with warmth, relief. Love.
His were the same.
She hadn’t said anything back, and she didn’t need to. They just looked into each other’s eyes. Peter noticed he could smell her again, the strong waft of vanilla came over his senses, and he breathed in as much as he could.
You’re running out of time, the same voice before spoke once more.
Peter could feel it too. That bright feeling was taking over his whole body, it was almost like when he was turning into dust, but less painful. It just felt like he was drowning in sunlight.
He took his hand and slowly brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face, tucking them behind her ear. He finally rested his hand on her tear stained cheek, trying to take in as much of her as he could. Her cheeks were insanely warm, and it felt like a taste of heaven. After being in nothing, to being nothing, her warmth was so angelic it caused another tear to slip out of his eye. In that split second, he felt everything rush back into him. Every feeling, psychical and emotional, he has ever felt in his life. The joy the pain the sorrow the love, he could feel it all.
Say goodbye. Now.
He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t say goodbye to her. He just got her. He couldn’t leave her. But he didn’t get a choice. He was leaving again, whether he wanted to or not. So he said the only thing he believed.
“I’ll come back. I promise.”
Time’s up.
______________
Oh shit we got another one
God not him
Shut up Sam, help him up for crying out loud
Fine, fine
Kid, are you okay?
The voices were muddled and hard to make out, but something felt familiar about them.
“Hey, kid,” he heard one of the voices say. He knew that voice, he had heard it before, in Germany.
He couldn’t see, everything was blurry, all he could make out was a faint light and shapes kneeling beside him. He was scared he was in another void of some sort. Oh god please not again not again, he thought. He tried to stand, but immediately fell back down.
“Whoa there, don’t try to stand yet, you have to give time for your body to adjust,” the voice said again.
It took awhile for his eyes to adjust, compared to the void this place was the complete opposite. There was a soft orange glow everywhere, it looked and felt like that same light that was inside him earlier, that was drowning him. He looked around, trying to blink away the haze. He could make out multiple shapes spread out all over the vast orange plane, there were two familiar figure next to him. He recognized them, from the fight in the airport.
“Hey, metal arm,” was all he could spit out. He could barely talk, barely breathe. He felt like he got sucker punched in the stomach and rib cage.
The man chuckled, “Name’s Bucky, that’s Sam,” he said while gesturing to the man on the other side of him, “Your name’s Peter right?”
He nodded, it hurt too much to do anything else. He could barely think.
“Well Peter, congratulations, you made it to the Soul World.”
“The what?,” he groaned. He looked down and noticed he was back in the Iron Spider suit. The one he died in. He felt his heartbeat rise and his chest cave in. His body hurt too much already he couldn’t do this he didn’t know where he is or what was going on he just wanted her back. “Where’s MJ…” he asked, delirious with anxiety and fear.
“Hey buddy, calm down, you’re okay,” Sam said from the other side of him, “You’re not dead, not technically.”
“Sam.”
“What, I’m just telling him the truth.”
Bucky scoffed at his friend, “Peter, you woke up in the dark right after you turned to dust, right?”
Peter nodded.
“That’s where we all started out, you turn to dust and get spit back out in that place. The only way to leave to connect to your soul, which you obviously did because you’re here.”
“That doesn’t-“ Peter started but stopped because his ribs hurt too much to talk.
“Hey don’t try to move too much, it takes a while for your body to recover. Traveling through dimensions isn’t as kind to your body as you’d think,” Bucky continued to explain.
“Basically kid, you went from one dimension, the darkness, to wherever your soul needs you to go. It takes forever to be able to recognize though, and then you end up here, the Soul World. We don’t really understand it any more than you do, but that’s what we pieced together.”
Peter tried to take it in but it was all too confusing. I traveled through dimensions? He thought. This is too much. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to back home, home with May and Ned and MJ. With MJ. He wanted to be there. Not, wherever the hell this place was. Dead, but not really dead. Alive, but not alive enough.
“I have to get back to her. I promised” he managed to croak out. Peter went to sit up, and it felt like every bone in is chest had been crushed, grinded up into dust. He tried to cough but even the slightest inhale caused a kaleidoscope of pain to radiate all throughout his torso.
“Peter, hey, listen to me,” Sam said, trying to prop the relentless Peter up along with Bucky’s help, “I know you want to get back, we all do, but we can’t do anything about it now.”
Sam spoke in an understanding and somewhat comforting tone, the complete polar opposite of what he was like in Germany. Peter didn’t want to believe he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t just sit here and wait.
“I can’t just- I have to go,” Peter said hoarsely. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.
“I- I can’t do this.”
Bucky sighed, searching for the right words to say to him. “I have people I care about out there too. People I love. But we didn’t get a choice in this. We’re stuck here until they figure out a way to get us back.”
“And you can do this,” Sam chimed, “You got out of the darkness, a lot of people still haven’t been able to do that, but you did.”
I did, he thought.
Peter instinctively wiped his face, he didn’t even notice he was crying again. He got out. It was MJ that got him out. She saved him. Peter looked around the orange-yellow plane, and saw it was full of people. Some standing, some sitting, some crying, some laughing. He recognized a few of them from the battle on Titan. He saw the bug girl and Mr. Strange a couple of feet away from, she was going around introducing herself to the various people, while he was sat solemnly, alone.
“I got out of there, she saved me.” he whispered while slowly laying back down. He was so tired, his body was beat to all hell, he had traveled through multiple dimensions, had to see the aftermath of his death, and realized he loved her, “She saved me.”
He saw Bucky crack a small smile while helping him back down, “Yeah, you did.”
“And you’ll see her again.”
MJ’s eyes was the last thing he thought about before he drifted off to sleep. Those warm, soft brown eyes that can hold a universe of emotions and words in them.
Yeah, he said to himself, I’ll see her again.
You will, said the voice inside him, I promise.
_______