[WHITE]
{YELLOW}

Peter was feeling pretty confident that he'd scared off Deadpool.

[Come on, Pete, he was a merc too. I'm sure he cut off a dick or two in his day.]

{Probably ate them, too,} Yellow sighed wistfully.

"Really, 'cause he looked a little squeamish."

[Getting a dick thrown in your face can do that to people.]

"You just said that—"

[Well, it's not like he was expecting it.]

"It doesn't matter. He won't come looking for more trouble."

[He might.]

"If he does, I'll just throw another dick at him."

{Oh, I'd appreciate it if you did that to me.}

[You don't have a dick.]

{I meant if he threw it at me.}

"Can you guys shut up? I'm trying to read." It felt weird, doing something as normal as reading after such an unusual encounter with an Avenger. But it was a chemistry textbook, so reading that for the fun of it wasn't exactly too ordinary. After all, he had to find a way to make his webs stronger, maybe do more damage.

[Wouldn't that be fun, razor-sharp webs. Like the most lethal floss ever. That's actually a good idea. Have you ever thought about flossing your victims to death?]

{I once read a book. It was horror. The author killed off three main characters and then made a twelve-year-old disembowel himself.}

"We all read that, Yellow."

{Of course, we did! I don't have eyes or hands or a body. Therefore, it's physically impossible for me to read that book.}

Peter ignored the boxes' argument and tried to concentrate on reading. Not that the textbook was very engaging. Stark Industries probably had a way.

As much as he hated Tony Stark, he had to admit that the man was smart. And rich. And although those were both things that Peter also was, he couldn't flaunt his wealth by starting his own company or buying buildings. As far as anyone else knew, Peter Parker was a normal kid.

How could a normal kid get that much money?

{You should go to school tomorrow, lest they call Aunt May and find out about your . . . predicament.}

[Besides, I think there's a new student.]

He did not want to go. It would make the whole distancing-himself-from-others thing way more difficult.

[Go to sleep, Spidey. You'll figure it out.]

{Get some food. Tacos, maybe.}

That reminded him of Deadpool. What had happened to the merc? What could be so good about being a hero? Obviously nothing.

The Avengers weren't heroes anyway. They'd taken so many civilian lives, and the press just looked the other way. The Avengers saved the day! Again! But at what cost? The damage they caused, how could that outweigh the good they did?

Peter had to admit that they'd done a good job on occasion. But wherever they went, chaos ensued. Innocent lives were lost.

They couldn't save everybody, so they shouldn't save anybody.

Just like how Peter couldn't save Gwen.

[If you think like that, Pete, you'll just fall deeper into the hole.]

{It wasn't your fault. It was Norman's. And the Avengers. If they'd just helped—}

[If they'd listened and understood that Green Goblin was a threat—]

{Gwen would still be alive. Aunt May would still be alive. You'd be swinging through the city in your lame old suit, helping people.}

[A hero.]

"I'm glad I'm not a hero anymore. They never appreciated me anyway," Peter whispered.

{Are you seriously about to cry?}

Peter put his head down and sobbed.

Her face was one of terror, staring up at him with pleading eyes while broken clock parts rained down on them. Begging him. And Peter would make it in time. He would save her. It didn't matter that his foot was throbbing horribly. The only thing he could see was Gwen, falling, terrified, screaming. He shot out a web, needing to catch her and hold her in his arms, promising that she would be okay. Apologizing for letting her come so close to death.

He reached forward. They were so close, so close, but too close to the ground.

She no longer looked scared. Her eyes closed as she accepted the fact that Spider-Man couldn't save her, couldn't catch her in time.

The web reached her.

Her head smacked against the ground with an audible thud.

She didn't move. Peter felt panic overcome him. No, no, no. I saved you. I saved you.

He dove down, removing the web from her body and cradling her in his arms. A trickle of blood was running from her nose.

"Gwen?" His voice was shaking. He was terrified that his fear had come true. "Gwen, please, no."

He was a superhero. He was Spider-Man, the most versatile hero that could save so many lives and had before. He was Spider-Man. And he couldn't save Gwen.

"Gwen, please. Stay with me. Stay with me." His voice cracked as he rocked back and forth, holding her. "Gwen. Gwen, no. I love you. Please come back. I saved you."

Norman Osborn killed the woman Peter loved.

And for that, he was going to die.

The fact that Peter was hiding from himself, though, was that it wasn't Norman Osborn at all.

It was him.

Peter Parker killed Gwen. And there was no way he was ever forgiving himself for that.