Saving The Lost: Spider-Man

Part 1/3

It had been a whole month now since Peter had lost his place in the world. Doctor Strange had set him up with an apartment, and things to furnish it with. The wizard seemed to be filled with remorse and sympathy, something he wasn't used to, and wanted to do anything he could in between his busy schedule to make sure Peter could live comfortably amongst the growing chaos in his mind.

Unfortunately, time-and-space wizard magic seemed to occupy a lot of time, and left little room for the friendly neighborhood spider to have a couple check-ins from someone who understood.

The surmounting loneliness reared its ugly head the most at night, where his dreams always seemed to morph into flashbacks, turmoil, blood, war, and most importantly: the disappointed faces of the people he couldn't save.

This night would be no different, he assumed. The day had been productive enough for him though, he actually went to his SHIELD assigned therapist without rescheduling and started to build more of his photography portfolio in a neat black binder. It had been a while since he'd been out in his suit, and there it sat, in the corner of his closet, taunting him. He closed the binder and stared at it, through it, around its colors until it turned into a blob through his tears.

That's when a noise ripped him out of his thoughts. His phone was ringing. He hoped it was a call back for one of the thousands of applications he'd thrown out into the area, but when he read the contact, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Flash?" He pressed answer and stood up from his bed in surprise. "Hello?" There was a second or two of silence, so he had started to pace.

"Hey, Parker... I was calling cause all the news stuff about your name and identity literally went poof online a bit ago and I'm pretty confused, honestly. Haven't heard anything about you from The Bugle either and I wanted to check in."

He remembered his name? He. Knew. His. Name. He knew about Mysterio's doxxing. He knew he was Spider-Man. He had his number. Peter made no time for small talk or explanations. He needed to see Flash. Now.

"Where are you?" He didn't mean to sound so stern, but he didn't want to falter immediately into a fit of sobs instead.

"I'm at home... are you okay?"

"Send me your address. I'll be there," and with that, he hung up. He ripped the homecoming suit off its hanger and suited up in record time. His phone buzzed and he popped the address into Karen's navigation system. "What the fuck is going on?"

He swung there as fast as he could, heart pounding. The tightness in his chest was refusing to leave, and his throat was burning from pushing back tears and panic.

"Your heart rate appears abnormal and rapid. You should reach safe ground to sit and regain a steady heart rate."

"I'm fine, Karen!" That was another thing he was getting used to. Even the AI in his suit had forgotten his name. He still hadn't bothered to program it back in and set it up. He usually turned her voice off anyway now.

He sat perched in a tree outside Thompson's bedroom window and tried to take a deep breath. It didn't feel all that helpful, and the cool brisk wind wasn't helping the lump in his throat. He came up to the window, removed his mask, and knocked. Three gentle knocks with shaking hands. Flash let him in.

Peter almost knocked him over in a tight hug. He was so touch starved lately, and he had no one. So, he held him so tight until Flash was struggling and pushing away. "Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry." The tears had started again without his permission. He was holding onto Flash's shoulders to prop himself up before his legs gave way.

Flash lowered himself to Peter's crouched position and hugged him again. Clearly something was very wrong. "Hey, what's going on? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Peter shook his head. He sobbed out the only words he could. "Aunt May's dead. E-everyone's gone."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Peter. Fuck." He squeezed him firmly in comfort and let Peter cry into the crook of his neck. His knuckles were white from clinging onto the hem of Flash's hoodie. "Deep breaths, okay? You need to try and get more air in, you're hyperventilating."

"I- I can't!" He choked out, trying his best to breath, but it became more and more panicked again. Flash took his hand and put it over his heartbeat. Something he'd learned to do for his little sister when she had panic attacks. He then took deep breaths for Peter to follow.

"Just focus on my heartbeat. Breathe, please. I don't want you passing out on my floor. I don't think I could lift you, man," Flash joked at the end, trying to be lighthearted. As much as Peter appreciated it, he couldn't show it.

"Th-thank you for remembering me," he whispered into his neck. And with that, his breathing went back to normal... and his body went slack.

"Peter? Hey, Peter?" Flash shook him a bit, but he had already knocked himself out. "Shit." What did he mean by that? Thank you for remembering him? How could he forget? He was his high-school envy that he bullied the hell out of, who turned out to be his favorite superhero! Who would just forget that? He just assumed poor Parker had reached some level of delirium before passing out in his arms.

...

Now that joke from earlier wasn't so funny. He really did have trouble lifting him onto his bed. It was damn hard, but he managed. He set him down gently, covered him in his comforter, and brought back up some water, ibuprofen, and a change of clothes for when he woke up.

Hopefully then he'd get some answers and be able to help.