Spider-Man Oneshots

Another Empty Bottle

A/N: Sorry Jayden, you are gonna hate me for this but whatever. In this fic Peter is Spiderman, Uncle Ben is still alive, and Peter only sees Tony twice a week. Based of the song Another Empty Bottle.

TW: Suicide, Alcoholism, Character Death

I RECOMMEND HAVING FLUFF READY FOR WHEN YOU FINISH THIS FIC

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Peter lies in bed, reflecting back on memories. He lets his mind drift until he lands on the time when everything went wrong. It was when he was only 7 at the time, too young to watch his  word crumble. He had moved in with Aunt May and Uncle Ben at age 6, so it hadn't been long. One night, he woke up to the sounds of his Aunt yelling. He peeked out of his room to see Uncle Ben, who was clearly drunk, coming home from a long night out. His aunt was yelling at his uncle, questioning where he had been. Abruptly, his world fell apart with just one sentence.

"I've been with another woman."

Well, Peter is almost 100% sure that is not exactly how he phrased it, but it's what his small child brain heard and processed. Even though he was young, he knew what it meant. He quickly crawled back into bed and sobbed till morning, when he swiftly wiped away his tears right before Aunt May came in to wake him up, never telling her that he heard. Almost every night since then, he heard the Uncle Ben and Aunt May fighting at night. 

He was jolted out of his memories by Uncle Ben and Aunt May's fighting of the night, seemingly fighting over money this time. He stared at the door he never unlocked anymore, wishing the walls in this small apartment were thick enough to block out the shouting. He thought back to how his aunt and uncle used to sing him to sleep every night, especially when he woke up from nightmares about his parents. How he missed those nights, but they were long gone now. No use thinking back on them. Still, it was nice to cling onto those memories. 

He moved his eyes up to the ceiling, where he stared till his eye sight began blurry with tears he had to try to blink them away. These are the times he tries to dive into his memories, block out the fights and think back to when they were a happy family, but all he can think about is how that happy family will never return to him. He laid in that bed till eventually the noises of the fight quieted and everyone else went to bed, leaving him to blissful silence.  He peeked out his room for just a moment, staring at the empty bottle of beer on the table. Well, you now how the saying goes, another empty bottle takes a life.

A month later, Peter is walking around the empty school hallways, avoiding going to school. If only he could be with Tony today. Not like Tony would ever want to spend much time with someone as broken as him. He just wishes he could fix his family, then maybe his family could fix him. 

He walks home, quickly heading to his room and locking the door. He pulls out his earbuds and sticks them in his ears, trying to drown out the noises. He could tell his uncle was drinking, even if the fighting hadn't started yet. He had a few pretzels from his stash of food to snack on while he worked on homework and just laid around, getting lost in his own daydreams. He goes over the memory of that horrible night when he was only 7, remembering how in the next few days he watched his uncle sit on the couch, staring blankly and the cries of May crying in the bed where she and Ben once slept together, before he started either falling asleep in his recliner or spending the nights with other women. 

A few days later, he spends the afternoon with Tony. When he asks him how life is going, he responds with the most upbeat answer he can muster.

"Best it's ever been!"

If only he knew it was all lies. If only he knew the what he does at night, what he hears. On his walk home, he lets a few tears fall, longing to come how to a happy family with his aunt and uncle. He lays in bed that night, going over his usual routine of remembering. It's normally a great coping mechanism, but tonight all it does is make it worse. According to the shouts, Ben tried to bring a woman home this time, and May is not pleased. He feels his insides go hollow with four words, just four simple words.

"I don't love you."

(Warning People, this is where the most triggering content happens)

The words feel like daggers entering his skin, and suddenly his wishes their really were daggers going through his chest. It would make it better. He tries to squeeze his eyes shut and force himself to sleep, knowing his dreams would feel so much better then this. Make him feel so much more alive. But sleep won't come, and he feels himself painfully fall apart at the seems. 

When his Aunt enters to wake him the next morning, after he didn't come out to the kitchen like usual, screams echo through the house. Ben seems to waken from his dazed state long enough to come running and let out a similar shriek at the sight he sees. It's Peter, but he's dead. He's laying in a pool of his own blood. Dead. There's cut all over him, from his wrists to his thighs to his neck and face. It's all cut up and caked in blood. Tears stream from their faces as they read the note, it's only words are the saying they knew all to well.

"Another empty bottle takes a life."