Five-year-old Peter Parker was at his Aunt May and Uncle Ben's house playing in the front yard with his friend, Eddie Brock Jr. Inside, May and Ben were watching him.
"Should we tell him?" May asked.
"He's just a kid. He won't understand," Ben said. "But… I guess now is as good a time as any. It's like taking off a Band-Aid. We just have to get it over with as quickly as possible."
"And what about Eddie?" May asked him.
"Same thing. We might as well kill two birds with one stone." Ben replied with a sigh.
The couple opened the door and stepped outside.
"Peter. Eddie. Could you two come here please? We need to talk," May called out.
The two ran up to them.
"What?" Eddie asked.
"Boys… This is hard for me to tell you, but…" May choked up.
"Your parents… They… They died, Peter. Your dad too, Eddie," Ben said. Peter's eyes widened and he stepped back. The color drained from his face and he felt as if the world just got yanked from under him. Eddie put a shaky hand on his shoulder and stood his ground.
"I'm… So, so sorry… Both of you," May said, fighting the tears. Peter couldn't stand on his own two feet. How could this happen? Why their parents? This couldn't be right. He fell back and fainted.
Over the course of three weeks, Peter moved into May and Ben's house and Eddie moved in with his grandparents. The funeral was short and depressing. Eddie didn't cry once. He didn't talk, or even glance over at Peter. They lost contact after a while.
After the funeral, May and Ben brought Peter back home. May hugged him and wiped a tear off his cheek.
"Oh, dear, I know you're sad. Your mother, my sister, and your father… They were good people… Your father wanted to change the world," she said.
Peter didn't say anything. He just stared down at his hands. Five years old and parentless. There was nobody in the world except for Eddie who felt what he did. No, not even Eddie. Surely this wasn't real. This was a dream. A nightmare.
Ben sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. When Peter didn't look up, he nodded at May and they left the room.
That night, Peter stayed awake all night. He didn't cry. No, he just lied there and stared at the wall. Perfectly still. He didn't let out a single sigh, and no tears escaped his eyes. In the morning he sat up and looked out the window. He saw everyone moving around quickly.
He put his head back on his pillow and sighed. He didn't want to move from that spot. He wanted to lay there forever. Stay away from the violence. From everything.