Whumptober 2024

Burnout - Day 29

Peter Parker, better known as Spider-Man, perched upon a lonely gargoyle on the old St. Christopher Church. Below him, the world repeated the same cycles of life and struggle, but it all felt different today. Peter felt an unsettling heaviness in his chest, an exhaustion that clung to him like a shadow.

He sighed deeply, the air filled with a tang reminiscent of bustling streets mixed with the occasional whiff of street food. It was a familiar scent, one that normally invigorated him. But today it tasted bittersweet. The streets were busy; crime had slowed down, but that was hardly what weighed on him. It was the pace of life, the ever-racing demands of being both a hero and a man on the brink of adulthood.

His phone buzzed, breaking the spell of his pensive reverie. It was a message from Aunt May.

"Hope you're coming home soon. Dinner's ready!"

He could hear her voice in his head, filled with concern and warmth. Peter wanted nothing more than to be at home, sitting around the table, eating fried chicken with his beloved aunt. But he also knew there was more to it than just feeling drained; he felt like Atlas, holding up the very world—but with every day, his grip was weakening.

He pushed himself off the gargoyle, swinging into the evening sky, but his usually graceful movements felt sluggish, as if he were encased in molasses. He landed on a rooftop, taking a moment to catch his breath, staring out across the sprawling city. For all his super strength, this fatigue felt like the creeping fog of despair that had begun to engulf him.

Just then, a flash of red and gold streaked across the sky, and Iron Man's voice crackled over the city's comms. "Parker! We've got a situation downtown. I need your—"

"I can't," Peter interrupted, panic tightening around his chest like an invisible hand. "I'm not... I can't do it right now, Tony."

"Peter, this isn't like you. We're out here risking our necks, and you can't just back out—"

"Just give me a moment!"

The connection broke, and for once, he didn't care about the consequences. He slumped down in a nearby alcove, the darkness mingling with the orange and purple streaks of the sunset. "I can't do it," he muttered, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "I can't keep pretending."

Days turned into months, a continuous cycle of villains, responsibilities, and masked faces. It was exhausting—mentally and physically. Just today, his genes could only afford to be human.

In that moment of vulnerability, a vision of Uncle Ben flashed in his mind. "With great power, comes great responsibility," he had always said. But what they never discussed was the burden of those powers, the never-ending task of being the 'hero' even when you felt like a coward.

With a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and texted Aunt May.

"I'm coming home."