Spiderkid oneshots

Coal

TW: death

A realization, realization that he wasn't going to win. The building falling, slowly, so slowly. A sharp piece of rubble, he saw coming down. Sharp pain in his stomach appeared quickly but didn't go away. He couldn't move. A whole warehouse on top of him. Hot blood slowly tracing down his leg. The pain slowly becoming greater every second. It all happened in a second. But it happened so slowly. Why did it have to happen so slowly? Pain and more pain. A rush of adrenalin. The building becoming lighter. The feeling of his hands slowly lifting it up. A deep pain. Another deep pain. Piercing pain in his leg. The warehouse weighing two times more than before. Every second becoming slower. Why did it have to happen so slowly? Slowly, oh, so slowly the pain grew until the pain was all there is. Until darkness was the only thing left. No pain.

A man sitting in the corridor. The beeping sounds from the machines connected to his son's body. The light from the nursery piercing through his eyes. The small hand in his bigger ones. People going in. People going out. Time pacing, but sitting so still. Tears running down his eyes. Guilt swallowing his soul.

If only he wouldn't have taken the suit away. His son would have been going on about his day. His son would be smiling. He would be laughing. He wouldn't have lost so much blood, the doctor didn't know if he would make it. Guilt. If only he would have solved the Vulture case before his son got to it, If only he would have not allowed his son to be spiderman until the case was closed. There was so much he could have done right. But he didn't. So much.

And there sat the man, holding his son's hand, slowly swallowed by guilt. As the minutes passed, as the hours passed, as the days passed. He sat there waiting for his son to move, but he didn't. He waited for a sign. A sign that he was still there. He waited for his eyelashes to flinch. Maybe even open and reveal his brown eyes. He waited for his son's finger to move, Indicating, that he was in control. He waited for his breath to pick up its pace or slow down. Waited for any changes, any signs, anything. He prayed, he begged to the universe. Anything, he just needed something. But nothing came.

No sign, no change, no something, no anything. Nothing came and the man's eyes never dried. He knew he would never get anything. But he didn't accept it. He hoped, he hoped so much. But hope didn't help. And when the beeping stopped, he felt his heart cling. So hard he had hoped. And gotten nothing, Nothing at all. No sign, no change, no something, no anything.

And the doctors came and told him to let go. And his friends came and told him to let go. But he couldn't. He couldn't let go. The hope he had sparked a flame. And it was slowly turning his heart to coal. Finally, they forced him to let go. To let go of his son's hand. To go dress. To see his son buried. But they couldn't force the flame out of him.

The flame didn't die. It kept burning. It burnt himself and everybody around him. It burnt so much, that he sometimes couldn't breathe. It burnt so much, he needed to drink the fire away. He needed to work all the fire away. It burnt so hard, he didn't know what to do. What to do whit his heart on fire? No amount of drinks could drown the fire. No amount of work could extinguish it. The lack of air didn't stop it from burning. And it burned, and it burned for many years.

But one day the man woke up. He woke up whit his heart not burning. All the flames that once had licked it were gone. There was only coal left in the place where once was his heart.