"Peter, clean your room."
"But, Gwen-"
"Clean your room now. Or else no movie."
"Geez, you're really taking after Aunt May."
"Good. Now clean your room while I go help Aunt May make dinner."
Gwen shut the door behind her as she left the room.
Peter stood there with his hands on his hips and stared at the clothes sticking to his ceiling. What had he been thinking using his webs to stick his dirty clothes to the ceiling? He was starting to regret inviting Gwen over for dinner. He was really starting to regret sticking his clothes to the ceiling.
Peter sighed and reached up to pull down a bundle of webbing.
The webbing was stuck there. It wasn't going to come off without a little strength. The webs clung to the crumpled clothing as if they never wanted to let go of them.
Just like Uncle Ben, Peter thought. I can't let go of him.
Peter shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought.
Peter tugged at the webbing and it peeled away along with the clothes. The bundle that came down felt heavy in his hands although it was just a few pieces of clothes and webbing. His eyes scanned over the crisscrossing patterns of the webs. He started to idly pick at the strands, trying to tear them from the clothes. Most of them held on tightly, until Peter used his strength to rip them completely off. Peter dropped the webbing onto the floor, strand by strand. It was nothing to him, useless and worthless.
His hand clutched the clothes even tighter.
"You're a stupid bundle of dirty underwear. Why am I having such a hard time letting you go?" Peter snapped.
But Peter wasn't talking to the clothes; he was talking to Uncle Ben. Images of his uncle flashed through his mind.
I am the webbing, he realized. I am gripping onto Uncle Ben because I don't want to lose if I don't ever let go, will I ever move on?
I have to.
He looked down at the clothes in his hand again and dropped them onto the floor. Words echoed through his head. Peter pictured Uncle Ben saying them to him.
Some things are easier to let go, Peter. Others need time and a little bit of help. She's pretty, Peter. She's good for you. Don't let her go.
The door opened behind him, and Peter looked back to see who it was.
"You doing okay?" Gwen murmured. Peter took in her blonde hair and freckled face. He noticed the way she held herself comfortably and the way her eyes shone in the light.
Uncle Ben was right. She was pretty.
"Yeah, I'm just getting started. It shouldn't take too long."
And she was very good for him.
"Okay." Gwen smiled. "Dinner will be ready soon."
"Okay, thanks. I'll be down right away," he said, smiling back at her. Gwen turned around to leave and shut the door behind her.
"Don't worry, Uncle Ben," he whispered. "I won't ever let her go."
That's a promise.