Memories of Home

ɪ. ʀᴇꜰʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ

ACT I:

Light can move in the same ways memories do.

A glimmer of the past, the haziness of hues clouding your vision, a shine so bright you're almost blinded. A trick of the light will make you believe you're seeing things one way, when in fact they're quite the opposite.

Depending on the slant of light, it could transform what was in front of you in any given moment, a mirage and a glow that keeps you in its warmth. Until the shadow comes to pass, and reality sets in.

Memories can trick you in the same way light can.

Into thinking things could look or feel the same in one moment, where in the next they're completely different.

He was all too familiar with that feeling. Living the last few months alone, in his apartment...trying too goddamn hard to look for the light in all of this darkness.

He remembered the way those snowflakes fell all those months ago, Christmas time in New York. It was a magical moment for crowds flocking to the streets. The shine of the Rockefeller tree itself pulsed in the distance. Onlookers watched as the boy made his way through the merry streets, eyes hopeful and set on the coffee shop in the distance.

Other eyes were also on him. Whether from those around him on the streets, or those above on the rooftops. Eyes that were on him, but didn't see him or know him.

Everything seemed to stay just beyond his reach. On the other side of the veil, there was a whole life that used to belong to him. Friends that he fought with. People he loved. For one moment he had it all, and now the simple fact was he could have nothing without the risk of putting those he cared about in danger.

His past haunted him, but these days ...it was Peter who was the ghost.

Those things all felt so far away now.

Time had moved differently in the few months. May's apartment, his home, had been packed up by Happy. Peter remember those early days, waking up each day feeling like he was living in a bad dream. Walking the streets like a wraith....watching from the rooftops across from the window of the apartment he had grown up in with May.

May...

Watching as Happy picked up the life he left into small brown boxes. Taking what little of it was left.

Peter wished he could call in an SOS to Happy again. He knew he sure as hell needed one.

But Happy had no idea who he was anymore. No idea that he had been one of the last people besides Peter to have loved his Aunt May so fully.

But again, it was his fault she was gone. It was his fault any of them were in this mess in the first place.

So he did all he could do.

He waited....until the last box was packed. Watched as Happy wiped at his eyes, closing the door at last.

That night, he swung one last time through that old fire escape. Popped open the window, with its loose hinges on the right side.

The apartment was just a shell without their life in it. A life that didn't even exist anymore.

Silently, he placed his palm on the walls. Tracing them all the way to right outside the door of his room..where notches where etched into the wall ....3.5 ft...4.8 ft...records of him growing up.

But now they were nothing but marks on a wall. Marks that belonged to no one.

The less proof remained, the better. Less questions would mean everyone was better off.

Almost everyone.

This night, he had a different place to be.

This night, the boy kept walking set in his determination, not even feeling the cold biting him. He had carried on so long this way. So numb except for the light he tried to follow. The light that was calling him now, and had been since the day he left.

It had been months since he last touched her. Heard her voice. Ever since Ellis Island.

But..he passed by the coffee shop everyday. Stopping for just a moment, just to catch a glimpse of her. And no matter how many deep breaths he took, it never got easier.

Even after all this time, however long it had been, his breath still hitched every time he saw her.

Maybe he didn't know how much time had passed... but he knew that no matter what, he made a promise. A promise to always come back to her. A promise to May. A promise to everything that they stood for.

It was true, that everyone he cared about forgot about him. But he would never forget about those he cared about.

It's what we do...

The words echoed through his mind, flashes of those faces so similar to his own...though their time had been brief, they were faces that had irreversibly made an impact on him and reminded him who he was to his core. Who they all were.

So...every night he listens for the calls. Each one that he answers, he answers for them. For all of them. For those who reminded him who he was. For those he has to protect. For those who give him something to hope for.

For those people, he has to carry on.

He stands in front of the frosted window panes now. Seeing her looking as beautiful as the first day he met her. For him, she was always bathed in light, and always would be.

So this was how he carried on. Step by step, but not one step closer. Just far enough to protect her. To watch over her. Living for those he loved, on the other side of the veil, in the refraction of the light.

Maybe one day he'll take that extra step. Maybe one day he'll find his way home....or maybe his home will find him.

Either way, he'll keep her safe until she does.