OVER AGAIN | ❝Don't forget the ones you've loved, but allow yourself to love again. That is the tragedy of life.❞
POST SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING | MAY PARKER
A HERO OF HEROES BOOK
Cover by soulofstaars
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𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋. It was smaller than what he was used to, at least, it wasn't necessarily small. Of course, it was one bedroom, on bath, one kitchen, and a closet, but it was a spacious one bedroom, one bath, one kitchen, and a closet, so he couldn't complain, he knew people with much less, but it took some getting used to. Especially since there were boxes thrown about and piled from floor to ceiling.
He groaned as he fell onto his just built bed, the mattress firm and not yet sagging. This entire apartment was a downgrade, a purposeful downgrade but a downgrade nonetheless, yet while that was still true, his mother had ingrained in him the importance of investing in a good mattress, so he still did, even if it was a queen instead of a king.
He reached for his phone to check his notifications, only to remember that there was no one who would try to contact him. Of course, he checked anyways, because he was a creature of habit, and was surprised that he was still disappointed at the sight of nothing but his now generic lockscreen.
"This is really sad," he said to himself, groaning as he pushed himself up from his bed, making his way to his fridge.
"What do we have to eat today, Leslie?" he asked, because he had always had a strange habit of talking to himself when he was home alone, and it was an old habit he hadn't indulged in several years, but was coming back full force, "I really hope that it's something, but it's probably nothing."
He opened his fridge, sighing as he caught sight of it empty, because he didn't fill it with anything, so he shouldn't have expected it to be filled, yet there he was.
"Well, there's no food—I want to kill myself," he said, standing up and pushing himself away, and he paused, realizing what he just said, tacking on a quick, "No, I don't," directed towards the room.
He hadn't said that in an even longer time, not since high school, and that had been a good time ago. It was something he used to say whenever he had nothing to say, along with asking people what time it was, but he always retracted his statement for fear of ghosts or spirits within the room taking him seriously and killing him in order to end whatever suffering he was experiencing.
He was suffering, but he didn't want to die. He just wanted a do-over.
"What time is it?" he hissed to himself, trying to block out his thoughts with verbal words, making his way back to his bed and picking up his TV remote and phone.
He had been there long enough to set up the WiFi and his TV, so he was able to look up a good deli or pizza place nearby while skimming through the channels for something good. Netflix and Hulu didn't have anything appealing to him at the moment, though he did appreciate their existences in his sad life.
"What to do..." he sang to himself, because he always hated the silence, and he was almost certain there was at least some part of a ghost in this new apartment, though it was the only apartment that didn't feel like it had an active presence when he was looking around.
