❝ goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky ❞
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026. my boy only breaks his favorite toys
𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐓. The fight was over. The Green Goblin was cured, along with the others. Yet, despite the victory, the massive, ominous rift in the sky — an unnatural tear spilling flickering streaks of violet— remained. Dr. Strange was doing everything he could to contain it, but Peter could see the strain in his movements, the grim determination on his face. There was only one solution now, and Peter knew it.
The realization sat heavy in his chest, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it. Not yet. Not when he had more pressing concerns.
As Peter’s feet hit the ground in front of the statue, his heart lurched when he saw them running toward him — his friends. Ingrid reached him first, with MJ and Ned close behind, all three looking winded but determined. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. They were alive. They were okay. For now.
Peter’s voice was urgent, almost desperate as he scanned Ingrid's face. "Are you okay?" He asked, stepping closer. His hands hovered awkwardly before he let them fall back to his sides, like he was afraid to touch her.
Ingrid gave a quick nod, her breaths coming out in short bursts. "Yeah, we’re okay," she managed, though the faint tremor in her voice didn’t escape him.
But Peter wasn’t convinced. His gaze locked onto her face, and his expression twisted with worry. Before she could react, his hands were on her, cradling her face gently but firmly. His thumb ghosted over a fresh cut on her forehead, where blood trickled in a slow, crimson path down the side of her face. "Oh my God," he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. "You’re bleeding."
Ingrid blinked, startled. "I — what?" Her fingers instinctively reached up, brushing against the wound. When they came away smeared with blood, she frowned, almost confused. She hadn’t even noticed. "It’s nothing," she said quickly, brushing it off. "I’m fine."
Peter shook his head, his grip on her face tightening ever so slightly as his eyes darted back to hers. "Are you sure?" His voice cracked, a mix of fear and disbelief.
"I’m fine," Ingrid repeated, her voice steadier this time. To reassure him, she cupped his cheeks, only to wince at the feel of his battered skin. The cuts, bruises, and swelling beneath her fingertips made her stomach turn. "I promise," she added softly, her eyes searching his.
Peter didn’t seem satisfied. He carefully pushed her bangs aside, examining the cut with an intensity that made Ingrid’s heart ache. His brow furrowed deeply, his lips pressing into a tight line. But then she smiled — soft, tired, and warm.
For a moment, Peter let himself believe it. He let the weight in his chest ease as he mirrored her smile, his lips tugging upward despite himself. The chaos around them faded into a distant hum. It was just the two of them, standing on the edge of a collapsing world.
