It was in the cobwebs of his closet corners, and the dirt that covered the tops of old buildings. It was in the silence of an abandoned subway station, and in the scrape of dead leaves as they skidded over the sidewalks.
It was in the choked inhales and exhales as his chest rose and fell.
The blinding light of a setting sun that he would not live to see rise the next day.
The red, the dull red, devoid of life, the dust that swept across a desolate planet.
The ash that trembled in his lungs and under his tongue and inside his ears. The warning that shrieked on his nape. The tight, swift grip of terror that enveloped him as he understood what would come next. The fear that seized control of his consciousness, demanded that he escape, when there was nowhere for him to go.
These were the places, the feelings, the memories that haunted him. They tracked him day after day, night after night. He lived his days, he drifted through school and homework and fled from the memories. But they persisted.
They lingered behind him most of the time, shifting in the shadows and slinking in the corners of his eyes. They lurked; waiting, watching.
It was as simple as an ill-timed sneeze, and as easy as dodging a fallen moon.
Just a sneeze, and the memories lunged for him, tearing through his tentative defenses until he could do nothing but let them take over and drag him down to the surface of the red planet that he would die on.
Sometimes, as he relived his death, he wondered if they really had won. Was he alive, or was this reality simply a merciful afterlife? Perhaps his body was still scattered ash in red sand. Maybe that was why he could never get it out of his lungs, no matter how much he coughed and gagged.
He had tried to forget, tried to leave that day behind to focus on the present, but the memories were relentless. He didn't know what they wanted. He didn't know how to make them stop, how to get them to leave him alone.
He just wanted to forget. Forget the hopelessness that clothed him like a ill-fitted suit as he fought a being that could have snapped his body in half like a Kit Kat. The fear that settled in his bones when the said being snapped something else - something that should have been harmless, but instead wreaked havoc that the universe could never have imagined.
He wished he could forget it.
But he was here, alive or not, running from the shadows that trailed him and dodging the musty scent of dust and panicking when he sneezed. He was here, watching red light flicker and burn out behind his eyelids when he closed them.
He was here, flying above the familiar streets of a city that trusted him. He was here, sharing precious laughter with his closest friends. He was here, nestled in the warmth of an embrace from the only family he had left.
He was here, and maybe that was enough.
This is my first MCU fic - I've always been a hardcore DC guy but I'm borderline obsessed with MCU's Peter Parker, and I've always loved Spider-Man. So here's this short thing! I don't usually write in this stylistic format, so I'd love any feedback you have.