The crash seemed to take forever; as adrenaline coursed through his system. They could see there was no hope. Aunt May was screaming, knowing there was no way to avoid it or turn out of it, she did the first thing that came to mind, and flung herself across him. The car was coming headon, there was no time to stop now, the only outcome was a grusome one. A screeching filled the air, as the other car realized they were coming down the wrong side of the road, too late to turn out of it, it hurt his ears and he screamed in equal parts fright and pain. Aunt May was trying to comfort him, telling him that things were going to be okay, when they both knew it wasnt.
Then they hit, a crushing and shrieking of metal on metal, the car spun and they both screamed. Peter's head was thrown forward by the impact, Aunt May too, and snapped back painfully when they hit the guard rail. Darkness overtook him a moment later, the last thing he saw before his eyes closed was Aunt May flying away from him and the feeling of the cold rain drops splashing on his face, then sweet unconciousness won over.
When he came too again, there was the sound of sirens in the distance, and the pounding agony of his blood circulating through his veins. He wished that the darkness would take over again, to save him from having to taste the coppery blood pooling in his mouth. Peter sucked in a breath of the cramped air, it was rank with gasoline, feeling his lungs caving in on themselves, thats how painful it was. He saw the dots in the corners of his vision, making his head feel like the only thing inside was painful static.
"M...Ma...May?", his voice broke from fear and pain, so much worse then before, and he yanked the seatbelt free with his superhuman strength, he knows he shouldn't be moving, but Aunt May wasn't in the car anymore, he had to find her, he had to help her. There was no way he was getting that door to open, even with his super strength, so he clumsily reached forward, hissing as the sharp splintered edges of the windsheild dug into his palms and fingers, little shards of the window sticking and staying there, stabbing him like a hundred little needles, and pulled himself upwards through the shattered window. Glass broke into his hair, blood was trickling down the sides of his face, but he continued to pull himself up until he rolled off the demolished front of their car.
His vision swam again, dangerously, and he swayed in his attempt to stand, falling back to his stomach with a pain filled scream. Peter blinked a few times, trying to clear his own vision, and crawled towards the sprawled figure only feet away, his bloody hands leaving an amber trail along the cement.
"Au...Aun...Aunt...May?", it was her, undoubtedly, her hair slick red with blood, her face a giant bruise, and her eyes glazing more and more by the moment. He was watching another one of his parents die, the last of his family, and he wailed pitifully, "May...ple...please!"
She sucked in a shaky breath, red trickled from the corner of her mouth, and he reached a shaky hand to wipe it away, "P...Pe...Pet'r?...Lo...Love...yo...u.", his hands shook when her sentence drifted off, reaching for her, to shake her awake, to do something, and his sob turned into a scream when she didn't so much as flinch at his touch. Her eyes were staring blankly ahead and he choked down another sob, "I...Imma...Imma get help...Aunt..May!", he kissed her sloppily on the temple and grit his teeth as he made to stand, he knew where they were, he knew this neighborhood, knew these streets. When he finally managed to get his feet under him, and stay there, he turned, limping back towards their car. His backpack lay some feet away, among the crash debris, and he dumped it in search of his webshooters.
Every bone in his body screamed in discouragement when he slipped them shakily onto his wrists, smearing them with the blood seeping from his hands, the only goal in mind was to get help for his aunt.
Aunt May needed him.
Aunt May needed him.
"There is no way that Uber Eats got here that fast."
The cloak nodded in agreement, but Wong was optimistic in the undoubtedly teenaged driver who would most certainly break many traffic laws tonight in hopes of getting a hefty sum in tips. The knocking at the door was a bit much, overbearing, one right after another, and he stalled slightly at the light thump that hit the old door, as if something had slumped against it, frowning Stephen reached for his wallet to pay the impatient young person for their subs.
He threw the door open, and his wallet hit the ground, the boy stumbled in from where he'd slumped against the door. Bloody fingers curled around the edges of his jacket as the youth pulled himself upwards weakly, brown curls slicked back with a rain and red mixture, despite their shaking, he curled his own fingers as best he could into the back of the boy's shirt, if only to balance him lest he crumple to the floor.
"Peter?"
The cloak snapped to attention, from its place next to the librarian, and glided down the stairs with the other man hot on its tail. It curled over Strange's shoulder, the question unasked in the air around them, Wong gave a light gasp of surprise. It was understandable, the boy was a sight to see, Peter choked on a sob, "Ple...Please help her! Aun...Aunt May! Please Doctor!", Stephen was torn, if the boy was in this shape he loathed to see what his Aunt looked like, and he couldn't leave Peter like this even with Wong and the Cloak to watch over him until he returned, "Car...Car...boom...Crash...she...ne...needs...help!", they had been in a car accident and she was in bad shape, there was no other reason that Peter would be in this shape and leave his Aunt there alone. Stephen didn't want to, it was against his better judgement, but he owed that much to the kid after everything he'd been through.
"Wong! Wong, help him to the library, I don't care if you just have to knock everything off the table, but get him up on it and make sure he stays!"
"Where are you going!", though his friend was already reaching to help the boy, Peter gasped in pain and red blood dripped from his lip onto the others robes, "Strange you ca-"
"I know Wong! But if there was anything I could do for her and lost her because I didnt...", he was not fond of children, outside of Peter and Shuri, it would tear Peter apart to lose his aunt and it would break him if he was the reason that the boy was so broken. Wong understood as much, and turned to help the small teenager up the stairs, Strange watched them for a moment, before turning to the cloak, "Make sure he stays there. Still.", it nodded and flew after them.
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal.
Wong knew the terrible end when Strange returned empty handed and eyes grim, Peter tried to sit up, tried to look up at him, but the cloak had wrapped tight around him to keep him immobilized. Wong had cleaned away the gravel and blood, his skin pale now and tinted light pink, he'd reset the bones so the boys healing factor could mend them correctly.
The cloak lost the battle and Peter tumbled over the edge of the table, just managing to miss hitting the floor by the cloaks quick catch and Stephen jumping forward. Bandages fingers curled into his top again, his eyes watered as though he knew the answer for when he asked, "A...Aunt May?", it broke something in him when he had to shake his head, and the boy let out the saddest sob he'd ever heard. He legs gave out from under him in his grief, but he caught the boy around the waist, tugging him closer as his fingers curled deeper into his shirt. The Cloak helped, lifting him up from the floor, and they somehow managed to maneuver to the small library couch.
Peter sobbed until he wore himself out and his eyes closed.
A light knock at the door had them jumping, fearing that it would wake the boy who had lost his entire family, Wong jumped from the chair he'd taken at the table, head bowed in his hands. Stephen's phone gave a soft ding.
Neither were hungry anymore.
Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.
-Unknown
When Peter finally comes to again, he blinks in rapid succession, his eyes and throat are sore and it takes him a moment to remember why. He's quickly made aware of the present surroundings he's come to, he is surprisingly warm, something heavy is draped around his lowerback, and it takes him perhaps a minute longer then he'd like to admit to realize that his odd bed is moving. Up and down, up and down, up and down; in a calming sort of rhythm.
Its dark, though a few lights flicker around the room in random placement, candles maybe. No doubt late at night, he can see a window, and he stares into the starry darkness for a long moment.
He focuses on his left hand, bandaged as it is, resting peacefully on top of a blue backdrop. A dark blue shirt. His eyes wander down, without so much as moving his head, in fear of waking who ever he had fallen asleep on. Something red is settled over him, red and thick, its really warm, and he sees the outline of a hand, no doubt from the arm thats curled over his lowerback. Dark pants and white socks, he sees his barefeet and his brow crinkles in confusion, he distinctly remembers wearing his red sneakers and-red.
There was so much red. It was everywhere! On his clothes, his shoes, his pants and his shirt, it was in his hair and on his hands. And Aunt May! Oh god! Aunt May!
"Calm down.", he feels the voice rumble under him more then anything, his ears are muffled by something, and it takes another moment to realize that the thing he'd been sleeping on was not just a living thing, it was someone's chest. Fingers sift through his hair slightly, mindful of any sore spots, and the conclusion is that the thing covering his ear is a hand, "Take a breath.", Peter does as instructed and the panic melts away.
Perhaps his exhaustion helps too.
Yea, he thinks so.
He tries to turn slightly, Peter really does, but he's comfortable in the position despite how embarrassing it is and the man he'd fallen asleep on doesn't seem inclined to order him to move at the moment. Instead he takes a deep breath, his chest rising dramatically and then falling again, the fingers settle between his curls, "Peter. I am so sorry.", this makes it so much more real, and tears burn his eyes again.
"Did she..?"
He know's Aunt May is gone, why else would their be an apology, and he feels horrid that he can't seen to bring himself to feel much about it, he's just so tired. But the tears come, and they drip over his nose into the shirt under his head. If he can't save her the least he could do was make sure that she didn't...
"She didn't feel a thing at the end. Painless. Completely numb."
Thats a relief, though a small one, and he sniffs sadly. The red blanket, the Cloak actually (he just realizes when it moves on its own) curls around them tighter. There is going to be so much to do now, he is her last surviving relative; oh god he's going to have to make the funeral arrangements.
"I can have Wong fetch Stark if you like, just stepped out for a moment, certainly he's on his way back. We can portal him he-"
"Can we just...Just stay?"
It's childish in a way, but calling Mr. Stark means that Stephen's going to have to move and the Cloak might too, and he's too warm and everything is starting to get too fuzy for him to care at the moment. He'll worry about it later. Strange falls silent for a time, the arm around his lowerback tightens slightly, "Of course."
Silence overcomes the room after that. He's pretty sure Stephen fell back to sleep after a bit, every time he thinks he's sure, the fingers in his curls move slightly. But Peter doesn't mind, it's always calmed him down, Aunt May used to joke that he was like a cat, at least part cat, when it came to people running their fingers through his hair. His heart aches at that thought and instead he tries to focus on the beating of Doctor Wizards heart. The ba boom ba boom ba boom ba boom of his heart beat.
And it's in that lullaby that he falls to sleep again.
Crying is a way your eyes speak when your mouth can't explain how broken your heart is.
-Unknown
"I thought you said you don't practice any more!", Peter backed away from the needle carefully, his legs were still weaker then he'd like to admit they were, but they seemed to be holding him just fine now, Strange raises an eyebrow at him, "I'm not a practicing neurosurgeon anymore. I can still give immunizations if the need arrises. As I've told you already six times."
Peter shook his head, it seemed a bit redundant to be scared of getting a shot considering the car accident he'd been in two days ago. But sue him.
"I don't even need it!"
"Your chart says otherwise."
"You have my medical record!", the boy takes on an offended expression, "Thats...That's not cool!"
Stephen smirks at him, "Neither is the records lack of tetanus immunizations.", he looks pointedly to the syringe he holds and back to the boy. Peter shakes his head, ready to make a run for it, despite the instructions to take it easy and his bodies warnings against it. Strange heaves an exasperated sigh, turning slightly, "Get him.", the Cloak shoots from his shoulders, and Peter doesn't have the time to say that using the Cloak like that is so cheating before he's wrapped in it's clutches and it lifts him up off his feet. Stephen smirks again, stepping forward towards the bound spider child, and the cloak lifts an edge to allow him access to the boys bicep.
"This is so cheOWating!", he whines at the prick and pouts to the doctor as he tries to appeal to the better nature he's coming to think doesn't exist when it comes to him. The doctor rolls his eyes, and if there is fondness in the action neither make any mention of it, motioning for the Cloak to do what it wants. It uncurls from its cacoon and wraps around his shoulders instead, rubbing an end to his cheek, Peter smiles at the outerwear, "Nah I'm not mad at you buddy."
Stephen motions for him to follow and he does, they head towards the kitchen where warm cookies wait on a cooling rack. He may not be able to perform surgeries any more, but Peter and Shuri had made the discovery, that Doctor Strange makes truly magical cookies (pun completely intended). He grabs a plate, the Cloak takes it from his hand, and stacks three large cookies on top.
"Doctor Wizard where will I go now?", his voice wavers, "I don't have anywhere else?"
They haven't talked about it much, usually when they do he starts crying and the Cloak curls around him in an apt impersonation of a bear hug. Stephen hums from around his own cookie, leaning back in his chair slightly, he swallows first, "I do believe Stark would be more then happy to take you in.", Tony was, more than happy, he'd been there for so much. He'd helped clear out the apartment because he couldn't do it himself, he'd helped him in making the arrangements for Aunt May's funeral and calling friends and such to attend, Tony had said he was more then welcome and that his room was still made up for when he wanted it.
Peter fiddled with the edge of the Cloak, and it allowed him to, petting the other against his cheek again, "Can I...Can I stay here too?"
He didn't look up, but he could feel Stephen's eyes on him, "Of course Peter. You know you are always welcome. You and your friends that never seem to hang out at their own houses.", that brought a small smile to the boys face, a small victory in this heart wrenching battle they faced. The Cloak, traiter that it was, stole his second cookie and gave it to the spiderchild instead, "Hey!", and that bit of theivery brought them a small, almost unnoticeable giggle from the child.
And if that meant he had to sacrifice a few cookies then he'd do so wholeheartedly.
No person is ever truly alone. Those who live no more, whom we loved, Echo still within our thoughts, Our words, our hearts.
-Unknown
The funeral is a small one; Peter is there obviously, some old friends of Aunt May and Uncle's Bens, Tony, Ned and MJ, Liz sent flowers, Stephen and Wong, Shuri is there with her brother. They all gather around and share the tears and the memories. The ones who don't know her all that well; Tony, Stephen, and Wong, listen to the stories that the kids have to share about her.
They stay until the last of the dirt covers her now, Stephen waves a hand over the fresh grave, as the other is clutched by the teens fingers, and fresh flowers spring to life (all of Aunt May's favorites).
Ned and MJ stay until the light starts to fade from the sky and the street lamps come on, and then they give him a hug each (MJ a bit longer then Ned) and bid him a soft farewell and promises of texting him later that evening. Shuri takes his free hand and gives it a squeeze, her and T'Challa are there for the month, and he still clutches at the Doctor's wrist. Strange's fingers brush intermittently over the inside of his wrist. The two teenaged geniuses stay up late at night, Shuri tells him about the time after her father's death and how things will get better as they are tend to do, and it helps them both sort of heal. It's a slow process, but a process none the less, and that's all that could be asked.
All his stuff has been moved to his bedrooms between the Compound and the Sanctum.
Tony has guardianship of him, he still has a home to go home to, two homes if he counts the Sanctum (and he does). His adopted parent slings an arm around his shoulders and whispers his condolences again as the Cloak settles over his shoulders in its own version of a hug that does not disturb the others positions.
It's weird, a bit complicated, but Stephen Strange agreed to sign as secondary guardian with no prompting.
Pepper has dinner at home, warm and waiting, the other Avengers wait there too. They all came to pay their respects and left shortly after Ned and MJ had.
He gives his Aunt one last smile and a soft farewell, allowing them to turn him in the other direction, and walk out. He'll come visit her again, once everyday for the first week, and then thing's will start to get better again.
As they tend to do.
God has you in His arms. I have you in my heart.