Spider-Man; Revealed V.2

Chapter 22- Grief Isn't Linear

Peter almost forgot. That was the worst part. He had almost let himself forget what that specific day meant. What it brought. What it reminded him off. What it represented.

When Peter woke up that morning he hadn't expected anything, just a nice normal day. Until he turned on his phone and saw the date. 

With one glance, Peter's happiness was gone. How could he have almost forgotten. What this day symbolized. 

It was the date of when Gwen had died. When she was thrown from that height, when his web had been the thing to barely catch her, but also be the thing that killed her instantly. 

He could still hear the reverberation of her spine snapping. 

He had relived that moment a million times. 

There were days when the grief was almost non existent. But then this day rolled around, every year, and it was like he was back there, holding her body, hearing her heart stop, all over again. 

Peter existed with his grief on mute, but then he would feel it, in its entirety. Like a wave washing over him that he couldn't escape. 

He couldn't move, he was paralyzed, knowing that everything he was feeling was his own fault. 

The reparations he paid for what he did. Or rather what he couldn't do, or failed to do. He deserved everything he was feeling. 

He had taken her away from her family. Her mother, her brothers. They would never know what it was to see her smile one more time, or hear her laugh echoing their home again. 

They would never get to be uncles and a grandparent to her children. 

"I took that from her." Peter said aloud. 

He forced himself out of bed, knowing that he would be late to meet Tony. They were going to go to lunch, at some fancy restaurant Peter had finally let Tony convince him to go to. 

But what was once something Peter looked forward to, was now a reminder that he was here. And she was gone. 

Peter looked at himself in the mirror, not recognizing the person staring back at him. This shell of a person, someone hollow. 

This is what he deserved. This was his penance. To live like he was dead, because she died so he could live.

It wasn't right, he should've been the one gone. The one dead.

Peter smashed the mirror, cutting open his knuckles, blood dripping down his hand. Pieces of glass smashing down to the floor. 

Peter looked at his reflection, now looking right. A fractured man, alone, unrepairable. 

This is what he was.

It was what he deserved. 

Peter rinsed his hand off, half heartedly wrapping it, then threw on whatever clothes he could find, grabbing his phone and taking off out the door. 

Walking towards the sleek black car Peter berated himself, telling himself how he didn't deserve any of these nice things. 

Tony knew the moment he saw Peter that something was wrong. It was the way the kid carried himself, the way he looked half dead, the injury to his hand. 

Tony knew something was deeply wrong, but he couldn't help but drive off towards their destination the moment the kid had sat down in the passenger seat. 

The drive was quiet, Peter could tell that Tony wanted to ask, but he didn't. For whatever reason the man held his tongue. 

Peter didn't know if that was better or worse. The silence was deafening. The ringing in his ears grew louder.