Nostalgic | P. PARKER

-To the one who grieves

Peter's life was a mess. It always had been. Ever since he got the spider bite the life he had full control over started slipping away from his fingertips. He had to admit that he was excited for a new change, but little did he realize that great power comes great responsibility.

He grazed past the halls of Midtown High, keeping his head down while his headphones are plugged in on his ears, he couldn't stop thinking about Freya Quinn. He thought he was getting better from her death, but he wasn't. He remembered everything, and he didn't like it one bit.

He walked through New York (as usual) to his apartment in Queens. It was a crowded afternoon, people were either rushing past the horde just to get through the train unscathed. Peter made sure not to bump with anyone while going to his destination.

He left his suit at home, knowing that nothing bad would happen if he leaves his suit for a day. It was also the fact that the Parker boy had this feeling that someone would be waiting for him to get home. Or something.

He entered the apartment elevator and pressed his level, letting out a sigh of relief as no one was with him. He patiently waited for the elevator to ring, and once it did, he walked to his apartment door.

It was awfully quiet. Peter assumed his Aunt May was out with her friends to binge episodes of FRIENDS. He made his way to his room, dropping off his backpack in the process. Peter saw another mail on his table, it was slightly different this time. There were no cheerful designs of the sort, unlike the once she sent before.

He opened it and sat on his bed. Slightly wincing at the papercut but quickly averting his thoughts back to the letter.

Hey, Peter.

You aren't attending school and I know it was because of Uncle Ben's death. I really wanted to say my condolences but I realized that apologizing for someone's death won't bring them back. I don't know how it feels to lose yet another parental figure in my life— considering my parents rarely act as parents nowadays— but I want you to know that isolating yourself would probably bring more guilt than ever.

Yes, I know you blame yourself for his death. But Peter, please remember that you shouldn't carry the weight of the world on your shoulder. I know you think of me as a stranger or an acquaintance but I really want to help you— I'm not trying to say that you're a person needed to be fixed. You're so much more than that. You're a person that holds the courage of a hero and sometimes, heroes need consolation too.

I've been trying to copy off extra notes for you a while ago, let's just say my hand was numbing uncontrollably. Although, I can't promise my handwriting would be readable and dandy— it's far from that. Anyways, hope you'll feel better soon.

— Freya xx

Peter frowned at this, remembering all too well the memory that he was trying so hard to bury. Freya was always caring towards anyone, whether she knew them or not. She was a lot like Liz, but no one really notices her. Instead they just call her as Liz's best friend. She was always considered that, now Peter regrets his actions towards her.

At that moment he resorted to downing out a drink of alcohol, but he knew better. He knew he's still underage and he hates alcohol. But the pain and guilt was too much to handle that he slipped to his bed and cried silently. At that moment Peter hated himself, even his alter-ego.