"Snowflakes fall like glitter, The sky is the perfect shade of blue, The choir sings along to some sappy Christmas songs, But the only thing missing is you" - Alessia Cara, "The Only Thing Missing"
...
Peter has been blessed to never have to spend Christmas alone. When he was very young, his parents were there. When they passed away, it was Aunt May and Uncle Ben. After Uncle Ben was gone, Aunt May did her best to make it magical.
Now, at just 17 years old, he feels the sharp pangs of loneliness and grief that come with spending the holidays alone and also barely existing in the world. See, he would've been okay if he could just be with Ned and MJ. But they didn't know him either. He could stop by the diner, but who knows if MJ would even be working?
Knowing her, she would be making fun of the carolers in Central Park or something, laughing at how ridiculous they look.
In another world, maybe he would've been there with her keeping her warm.
He gets up from the springy mattress to look outside–it's flurrying lightly, but the sun is out and the sky is blue. May would've loved the weather today.
Peter sighs. For the second time this week, he finds himself walking to May's grave. His breath is foggy and so is his head. He doesn't know what else to do.
What is Christmas to someone who doesn't really exist?
The graveyard is a bit packed, but Peter is surprisingly sad that Happy is nowhere in sight. It makes things easier, for sure, but way lonelier. He crouches down by May's gravestone.
"May, Merry Christmas," he says and puts a mini wreath on the ground. "I know if you were here, you probably wouldn't remember me either. But if I told you the story, you would've believed me."
Peter takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky.
"I hope that I'm making you proud May and that I keep doing it. As much as I wish I could decorate cookies with you or give you a gift, I know that you're safe, and that everyone else that I love is safe. I love you so much, May. I miss you."
His head is against the gravestone and a tear drips down his face.
...
Despite the frigid New York cold, Peter has been pacing in front of his apartment building for 15 minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Does he go to the diner? Does he patrol? Does he try to find MJ by visiting carolers? Does he go home and sulk?
What would the other Peter's do?
Suddenly, the thought brings him back to reality. They taught him about the sacrifice for the greater good and about making other people happy.
He imagines Peter 2 walking around with tinsel attached to his arms and legs, granting children over the city their Christmas wishes–meeting Spiderman.
He heads upstairs and gets into the suit. At the dollar store, he finds some tinsel and quickly pins it to his midsection. Now he's basically a staircase... great.
He shouts to the cashier before leaving, "Merry Christmas!"
For a second, he almost forgot that some consider him a villain and a murderer still. But a sense of relief washes over him when he remembers that MJ and Ned are safe. So what if Spiderman is deemed a menace? J Jonah Jameson needs to take a hard look in the mirror.
As he swings around the city, he only gets one candy cane thrown at him, which Peter considers a success. He ends up stopping a fistfight between two drunk guys, ensuring a 7-year-old that Santa is real, and making a stop at the diner against his better judgment.
MJ, unfortunately, is not there. And although every cell in his body wants to swing by her house to see how she is, he knows that it's creepy.
So, in the cover of the dark, he goes to Bryant Park and perches above the ice-skating rink.
Bells ring in the distance, and he can tell that the well-off New Yorkers are getting to the end of their rooftop parties.
Peter turns to his side for the girl of his dreams but stops midway.
She isn't here.
Memories flood his mind–holiday plans that they made months in advance, gifts that he wanted to get for her (and Ned) that will never be. Well, at least not soon.
His heart races and the feeling is the bad kind of familiar.
Panic attack.
Peter jumps up and does the only thing he knows he can do 99.9999% right to take his mind off of his loss.
He patrols.