Spiderson Oneshots

Hope--May and Peter

Warnings: Mourning, fluff, and long.

Peter's P.O.V.

Hope was a fickle thing. It lifted your spirits until it got bored and let you drop. I was done with hope. Done with hoping that anyone cared. Done with hoping that I was needed. Done with hoping that things would get better. Because they wouldn't. I'd given up on hope. I just wanted to be okay.

No one else knew that, of course. No one knew what went on up inside my head. They didn't see the poison that had held me up, stringing me across its line of lies. It corrupted my vision. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was the reflection of the things that I lacked. All I could see was that I was a mistake. It should have been me instead of Uncle Ben. Should have been me instead of Mom and Dad.

I had grown up lonely. Anyone could see it. When Mom and Dad had died, I became a shell. I used to be so happy. I had so many good days. But now I knew that they were only born of naivety. Kids always did see the best in everything. But when you got older, you become so blind to it. It hurts, wondering if you ever had been happy. Wondering if you were the only one.

The silent sound of loneliness seemed to follow me everywhere. Sure, I had friends. But for how long? How long until they realized how worthless I was? How long before Ned didn't invite me over to build his LEGO sets? How long before MJ started calling me a loser without the affection that she did now? How long before the Avengers realized I was just some silly kid and kicked me out? How long before May realized that I'd be the cause of her death? How long, how long, how long? The words seemed to nag at me.

The thing was, I knew that it wasn't supposed to be that way. I knew that there had to be an antidote somewhere. But I'd lived with poison all my life, knowing it better than I knew myself. How would an antidote help but to alienate me even from my environment as I tried to figure out how to heal?

But the biggest question was how long it would be until I lost this blessing? How long until the spider in me died? How long before I really was the real loser? How long before I was nothing again?

I don't remember what started it. I don't remember what set me going down. I don't remember how it all started. It was too stubble to notice at the time. It was jokes at first. Then I started believing it. I hadn't realized it. No one did. I don't think they do still.

The savannah of my mind was diseased. It was torn with mountains and shook with earthquakes. It wasn't the innocent place it used to be. It was dark. Everything was dying. I couldn't remember how beautiful it used to be. Not a thought could escape without being poisoned too. And I can't help wondering where the pureness went. Where did the sunrise go? Where did the glistening lake go? Where did the flowers go? Where had the beauty gone?

People say that the human mind is a wonderful creation. It can decipher a paragraph of words with only the first letter and last letter in place and understand. Half of it can be taken away and have no effect. But all I see is poison. I see disease. I see a danger to myself. It's destroying me from the inside.

The thing is, I don't want to get better. What will I be if I heal? What will I have left? All I can ever see is this poison, and there's no end in sight. I don't want it to end. What if they don't like what they see? What if they hate me even more?

Hope is fickle. It leads you astray. And I've had enough of that. I just want to be. If only the poison weren't there. If only I could've gotten the antidote in time. If only.... 

---~---~---

I didn't know what to do. Healing was what I wanted, but I knew the pain, and I'd grown around it. Healing was scary. And I was at my breaking point. But I kept going. On, and on, and on. My destination was unknown. But I couldn't keep going without looking back. For every step forward, it was two steps back. And I couldn't move.

Someday I'd be better. Someday, I'd be wiser. Someday. But that day was far. Too far. I couldn't see it. Because the poison keeps on spreading. Because the antidote keeps running. Godspeed was all I could wish to the antidote. Wish that it could heal someone else and not waste it on me. I wouldn't be here long. Others deserved better than me.

My job was never to think about myself. It was to look out for the little guys and girls. It was to protect others, not myself. It was to live for others, not myself. I couldn't be selfish. I couldn't take what others needed. If never had been about me. I was to deliver the antidote. I wasn't to take it.

It wasn't their job to help me. I was supposed to help them. It wasn't supposed to change. That's just the way it was. I wasn't supposed to question it. The poison told me so.