🕸Spidey Son

《30 It's... Him》

A/N: There might be a few trigger warnings for a little depression and mild panic attacks in this chapter. So I'll just put ⚠️TW⚠️ at the start of one, and a ✰~TW Over~✰ at the end of it. Keep in mind that only some paragraphs will have them. Also, this is a long chapter- er... its about 7 pages in the google doc I'm writing it in at least. So you can be the judge of that. 

Peter POV:

Around the end of the second movie, I started to fall asleep. My head had already been leaning against Tony for the better half of the movie, and so naturally my eyes started to close. As I was drifting off, I vaguely remember Tony picking me up and carrying me somewhere. And then I fell asleep.

{Wittle time skip brought to you from the 'road work ahead' sign I saw today, and the I-Sure-Hope-It-Does community]

⚠️TW⚠️ 

Eight year old Peter opened the door to his small bedroom and sighed. As he walked over to the corner of the room, he set his backpack down. All the sadness, - all the memories, - of the day were finally catching up with him. He went over to his bed and flopped down face first into the thin sheets. Not a moment later, the tears started. He sat up after a few minutes, and just lay there on his back, crying softly to himself. After about 20 minutes, he built up enough composure to get up and sit on the dingey bed. Hugging his knees, he thought about this day. His birthday.

This day, one year ago, he had failed his last remaining family. Uncle Ben and Aunt May had died one year ago, and it was all his fault. If he had only been there sooner, instead of walking past the small little store on the corner near their apartment. If only he hadn't stopped to gawk at the shiny action figures in the windows... if only. He could have saved them. If he hadn't thought of himself, his only family might still be alive.

✰~TW Over~✰

Finally managing to calm himself down, the eight year old wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He then dabbed his eyes with his old torn sweatshirt. Slowly, he stood up and made his way to the other side of his bed. The side that was close to the wall with the only window. It cast a dim light into the room, creating shadows on the walls that looked like they were reaching out to grab him.

Kneeling down, young Peter carefully removed a floor board, revealing a little hidden section in the rough floors. A small hole in which something lay there. A single item, a wrapped item. Brightly colored paper covered all sides of this rectangle shape. And this, it was a present. A birthday present. His last birthday present. Untouched, paper all wrinkled. But not once had it been attempted to be opened. It's been there, sitting in the little hole in the floor, for just about a year, collecting dust. Peter, not having the nerve to open it. For so many reasons.

The fear of what lies in the box. For he knows exactly what it is. But if he were to tear open the gift, destroy the last thing his loving family got for him... It seemed as though he was practically tearing away their memory. So the young boy just started at it, losing track of time. He probably watched the box for an unknown amount of hours. But the next time he took his eyes off of it, it had grown dark outside. Knowing that dinner would be happening soon, and that the worst thing he could do was be late.

Peter stood up, and put the floorboard back. After that, he wiped his nose again, and started to make his way towards the door. But no sooner had he gotten to the door, did the shadows on the walls come alive.