Chemistry: (NEW) Spiderman X Reader [ DISCONTINUED ]

Where have you gone?

It's been a week since the blip. They say he did it to make the world better, to save it from its inevitable fate, but no one smiles anymore. The sun almost never shines and its always windy. Everyone seemed to lose someone. Everyone, including me. I was at an assembly in my school, and marching band was playing our school anthem. It was all over social media, the moment when the trumpets stopped playing and the cheering turned into screams ridden with fear.

The news blew up, police stations unavailable from the loss of officers and order, the phone lines busy with 911 calls, and the streets full of people running from something that scares us the most... The unknown. The worst part of it all was that I didn't see Peter this week. Not before, not after. Ned said he was sick and had to go home, but was I honestly going to believe that Peter Parker is actually sick? He's always gone. I look for him in the halls everyday, wondering when he'll be back, but he never shows up to any of his classes. I even called his aunt to make sure he was okay, but, she didn't pick up after it all happened. New York was evacuated while the Avengers tried to save the day again, but everyone could tell it was bad this time. Something more than an avengers level threat. A world- no, universal threat. When I saw Tony Stark's face all over the screens, I knew that Peter had to be connected to his disappearance. 

What hurt me most of all was that I could remember his smile and his laugh, but I knew I couldn't hear it again. I look at a picture of us on my phone with tears in my eyes, growing heavier for my eyelids to contain. 

"Where have you gone...?" 

Five years later, I'm 20 and I'm alone. Who knows if my parents are alive, I didn't bother to check. I started a fan page called rememberourspiderman, to give myself something to do other than mourn. Lots of people from my school follow it, considering Spider-Man is practically our mascot after the DC trip incident. I give out stickers of my drawings of him to keep his name remembered, but when I'm alone at night, I cry his real name into my pillow. 

Now, I lay in my room, watching a new video of Tony on YouTube brushing away paparazzi at the market. Since his return, he refuses to speak about Thanos and what's happened. The man is practically retired, living with his wife and daughter somewhere outside of the city according to paparazzi. I turn it off and pull up Google on my phone. I google possibly the most obviously disappointing search ever, Tony Stark's phone number. You can guess how that went. I tried thinking of other ways to get into contact with him, but I couldn't keep it off the back of my mind that I'm just a nobody. Tony Stark doesn't deal with nobodies. Then I remember the summer of my freshman year, when... he was here. 

"Why the long face, Pete?" I asked as I propped my arms on his back, looking over his shoulders. He flinched and turned off his phone, but I already read the name Happy Hogan in the message contact. 

"N-Nothing! Nothing, I just-"

"Just what?" 

"I just can't talk to this guy from work. He's not answering my texts. And I sent a lot..." he said, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, his phone in the other. 

"Maybe he's just busy. Work as in the Stark internship?" I asked, my hands playing with his locks of brown hair. I felt his head hang low as the brunette curl left my fingertips. 

"Maybe." He said, sighing with the blubbering of his lips to express his disappointment. "He's supposed to call me, whenever Mr. Stark needs me, but I guess... he doesn't." I moved around the bench and crouched down in front of him, holding his hand. 

"Look at me," I said, my hand squeezing his. His chocolate puppy eyes looked at me, a faint blush glowing underneath his cheeks. "So what if he doesn't call you. Maybe it's just not time yet. After all, I enjoy having you around for once, even if you jet out the door as soon as the bell rings. Look, Peter, I know you look up to him, but the Stark internship doesn't make you who you are. You are just as strong and important as any other person he talks with, which by the way, he talks to LOTS of people- You just have to wait for your turn." 

A small, unsure smile creased into his lips and he squeezed my hand back to reassure me.

I walk over to my desk where Peter's notebook I kept lied. I open the cover and run my thumb over the sharpie-printed name, Peter Parker. Letting go of my breath, I flip through the pages, looking for any phone number of some sort. Peter is- was, the type to write things meant for no one else to see, in dumb, obvious places. After about 2 minutes of searching the pages, I found a whopping total of two phone numbers and also a little note of what my favorite color is. I smile slightly and start dialing the phone numbers. The first one worked, passing me to the dial tone. After I hear it stop, I listen as a low-pitched voice says,

"Hello, this is Alex from Joe's Pizza, answering to all your greasy desires and cravings." The voice sounded the opposite of enthusiastic. I hang up and sigh, dialing the next number. I bite my bottom lip as I listen to the same dial tone, begging that this is Happy's number. I hear a cackle through the phone as someone picks up. I hear dishes clanking in the background before I hear,

"Hey, I'm not interested in free slippers, I literally clicked that ad one time-" The voice was amazingly familiar. I turn a little and look at the floor, focusing on the voice.

"Wait! Don't hang up! This is- um, this is (Y/N)- Nevermind, you don't know me, but I'm an associate of Peter's." I can hear a sigh from the phone.

"Oh great, what are you, his girlfriend?"

"N-No-" 

"Riiight, well he can't come and play okay, he's not here, goodbye."

"MR. STARK!" I yell. After a few moments of silence, I don't hear the triple beep of the hang up tone, and I make sure to get out what I want to say before it's too late. "He looked up to you. He- he thought of you like a father figure to him. He wanted nothing more but to help out, and-and to make you proud. All I know is that he's gone and you're not- and that you're the smartest person probably ever, and I just want to know what happened... I have to..." I let myself breathe as I listen closely to the phone. Silence follows and I peek at my screen to make sure  he didn't already hang up.

"I lost him, okay? I told him to go home, but he came anyway. I tried. I really did. I couldn't beat him. I couldn't stop him from taking the stone. He was in my arms and then he... And then he wasn't. Listen, kid, don't dwell on it. Move on. It's what's best." Tears roll down my hot cheeks, and I bite my lip hard. 

"How can you tell me to move on? He's not here and he's probably never coming back! How can you be so calm? He was the only thing that made me smile. His s-stupid jokes and movie references-"

"Kid,"

"HE LOVED YOU. I loved him... How can you be so cold-"

"You think I don't think of that kid EVERYDAY? Everyday. Everyday I blame myself for not being as hard on him. For not just flying his optimistic ass home to his aunt myself. Guilt aside, he's gone. More gone than dead. Do you really think I wouldn't give everything away just to see his face again?" I wipe my eyes as I hear the shakiness in his voice. He makes a sigh and says,

"Don't call this number again." 

The hang up tone echoes in my ears.

I fall to my knees, the phone slipping out of my hands. I press my hands to my face, sobbing.

He's more gone than dead...