This one made me cry. I'm not going to lie. I still can't tell if they're purely bittersweet tears or if my heart is just aching for Peter.

Minor trigger warnings, nothing is explicitly stated, but I just wanted to put it in as a precaution. Take care of yourself, all of you. Coming from a complete stranger this will sound weird, but huge hugs!

If it was one thing that Peter had noticed ever since he came back, aside from the obvious organic webs that now resided on the inside of his wrists, was the increased sensitivity of his enhanced senses. At first Peter hadn't connected the dots about his eyesight seeming to pick up the tiniest particles of dust from over twelve feet away. He didn't even notice that the heartbeats in his apartment complex had been magnified enough to cause his entire body vibrate from the force. Ironically, what had tipped him off was when his sixth sense went crazy seven blocks away from a five car pile up. It was something that he hadn't even been able to see at the time, but the pit in Peter's stomach had never been as intense as it had been in that moment. However, as soon as Peter noticed the increased sensitivity, it almost seemed like his body had gone into compensation overload, leaving the eerie feeling of his sixth sense ringing away in his brain. More than that, it left Peter constantly on edge and it never seemed to have any desire of going away.

Peter had never been able to fully decide if his sixth sense had been a blessing or a curse that came with the spider bite. In retrospect it had saved his ass more times than he could count while fighting crime as Spider-Man, but he hated the feeling that came with his spider sense. He hated feeling like he had jumped into a pool of ice, slowly freezing alive while something forcefully scratched up and down his spine. If he was being honest with himself, he would never give it up, but that didn't mean he had to love the consequences that came with it.

Hiding behind one of the columns in the Avenger's training room, Peter was crouched down into his infamous Spider-Man pose as he closed his eyes and opened his senses to what was going around him. Almost immediately, he heard the soft whoosh of a shield hurtling toward him along with a heartbeat coming from his right that was slowly getting louder. At the last moment, Peter jumped into the air, using the side of the column to propel himself off to the side, dodging Steve's shield and successfully webbing Bucky's metal arm to the wall of where he was making his stealthy approach to where Peter had been hiding.

Training with a super soldier and the winter soldier, Peter thought as he rolled onto the floor and behind another safety wall. What is my life?

The adrenaline running through Peter's veins was a nice change from the constant self-deprecation, and provided a nice distraction from everything that had been happening around him. It gave him something to focus on, and therefore it kept his thoughts away from all of the obstacles that his life was constantly throwing at him nowadays.

Ned would freak out, Peter thought as he dodged his way toward Steve in an attempt to subdue the super thought of his friend caused a wave of sadness and bitterness to wash over him. Ned... He'd be lying to himself if he didn't miss his conversations with the other boy.

It's been a long five days since the football game, and two days since Peter had essentially told Ned to leave him alone. The two of them had never been angry at each other for more than a day, and seeing Ned's hollowly resigned face broke Peter's heart more than he wanted to admit. Part of him wanted to find a way to move on, but at the same time Peter wasn't sure if he was ready to face him without saying something he'd regret.

It wasn't until Peter heard the soft whoosh of the shield coming his way did he realize that he got distracted. Turning around, Peter caught the shield point blank with both hands, feeling his hands sting at the impact while his body skidded backwards a few feet from the force.

"Jesus," Tony's soft voice echoed from across the room.

Peter panted from exertion, his thoughts clearing as he heard footsteps running over to him. A hand came to land on his shoulder and Peter looked up to see a worried super solider.

"You okay?"

Peter blushed at the question, "Yeah, sorry," He handed Steve his shield back.

"Are you hurt?" Steve elaborated.

Peter shook his head, "Super strength, remember?"

Steve frowned, "I wasn't holding back, Pete."

"You can't let yourself get distracted," Tony's voice got louder as he approached him. "That was dangerous, kid, you can't do that again."

"He was holding his own perfectly fine," Bucky called from across the room from where his arm was still webbed to the wall. "He's learning."

"No, you're right, that was stupid," Peter admitted. "I don't know what happened, it just came out of nowhere."

Steve and Tony shared a glance with one another before Steve asked, "Want to tell us what happened?"

Peter shook his head, "Don't worry about it, it was just my senses being screwy."

"That sense of yours is pretty incredible," Steve admitted. "I heard stories from Tony and Bucky, but it's different seeing it in person."

"You're essentially psychic," Bucky chimed in.

"It doesn't work that way, it's just a feeling," Peter corrected them. "It's like a nasty itch that won't go away."

"I think I have that whenever Pepper tries to slap me upside the head," Tony crossed his arms. "That or I've just gotten better at dodging it over the years."

"Speaking of powers, can you please let me go?" Bucky asked, nodding to the webbing. "I can't break this shit."

Peter's eyes widened, "Oh!" He quickly ran over to the winter soldier, grabbing a handful of the webbing and yanking it free.

Tony, who had been watching Peter's movements, let out a soft startled noise.

Peter, who heard it clearly, turned towards Tony and frowned, "What?"

A curious expression crossed Tony's face before it faded away. "Nothing, kid."

"Are we going for another round?" Peter changed the subject. "That won't happen again."

Steve shook his head, "I think we should call it for the day."

Peter went to protest, but Bucky knocked Peter with his shoulder, "Small steps, Pete, you can't just dive into the unknown."

Peter deflated at that, "Yeah, okay, I have to get going soon anyway. I've got this insane Physics exam I need to study for."

"Natasha said she'd train with you tomorrow if you're up for it?" Steve tried to cheer him up.

Peter smiled at that, "Yeah."

Peter had meant to go straight back to the apartment as soon as he came back to Queens, but he found himself straying from the path before he could think twice about it. Harry had been missing the entire school day and Peter hadn't been able to get a hold of him. All of his messages had been left unread and his calls had kept going straight to voicemail. He had vaguely remembered where Harry had lived after their visit home from the Frozen Snowman with Ned and had grabbed Harry's physics homework as an excuse to go check on him. When Peter walked up the steps to the unit that Peter had remembered seeing Harry walk into, he knocked on the door and hoped he wasn't about to find himself in a very embarrassing situation.

The door opened a few seconds after Peter had knocked and he genuinely thought he had been stupid enough to walk up to the wrong place. The man who had answered the door was strawberry blonde and towered over six feet tall. He wore a stony poker face and had a tattoo sleeve that extended from his wrist to his shoulder on full display from the black tank top he was wearing.

He studied Peter with a curious look in his eyes before he asked, "Can I help you?'

"H-hi," Peter stuttered. "I was wondering if Harry Osborn lived here? I'm his friend Peter."

The older man's face softened at the reply, "You're Peter Parker."

Peter sighed in relief, Okay, so maybe I'm right then. "Yeah, that's me."

He stepped aside, "I'm Harry's Uncle Bill, please come in."

"Oh," Peter fidgeted as he took a step inside the small little town home. The place was relatively bare with the beige walls bringing some natural light into the room.

"What can I do for you?" Bill wondered.

"I, uh, I brought Harry his homework," Peter told him lamely. "Also, he wasn't answering any of my calls."

Bill sighed, his voice tinged with sadness, "He's in his room. You can see if he lets you in, he's been holed up in there since yesterday."

Peter's heart skipped a beat at that, "Oh."

"He might listen to a friend," Bill conceded. "He won't listen to me."

Peter nodded, "Thanks."

"It's up the stairs, first door on the right," Bill began walking toward the kitchen.

Peter watched the retreating form with a small spark of curiosity, trying to wrack his brain to see if he remembered whether Harry had ever mentioned an uncle named Bill. When he came up with nothing but a headache, he gave up and made his way up the stairs, trying to shake the pit of dread that felt eerily familiar.

When he got to the closed door, Peter knocked softly. "Harry?" When there was no reply he knocked again. "It's Peter."

When no one came to answer the door again, Peter waited a minute before he began to think he had made a mistake coming here at all. Just as he was about to leave, he heard footsteps walk toward the door and then the lock clicked.

When the door opened to reveal Harry, Peter wondered what the hell had happened to make his friend look like he had been put through a grinder. "Did you really just say, 'It's Peter' as if you were some stranger?"

Peter felt his cheeks flush at that, "No? Well, I mean, yes, but..."

Harry let out a strained chuckle, "You're such a dork."

Peter felt a weight lift off his chest at the jest. He held up his backpack and said, "I came bearing gifts."

"Physics is a gift?" Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

Peter frowned at the statement. "How'd you..."

"Physics is the only class we have together," Harry shrugged. "What else would you bring to me?"

Shrug off that paranoia, Peter scolded himself as he dug Harry's book and assignment out of his bag. "I was thinking maybe we could do it together? We have that exam on Friday."

Harry looked uncertain at the question, as if he was about to decline and Peter's heart sank.

"You don't have to," Peter told him. "I can leave..."

Harry shook his head, "You look like someone kicked your puppy. Just come in, would you?"

Peter walked into Harry's room and noticed the pair of bean bags that surrounded a flat screen TV that was mounted on the wall. It seemed rather out of place in a small room like Harry's.

Harry, who had closed the door behind Peter, saw what Peter was looking at and snorted at his friend's reaction. "Dad thought it would've been funny to leave me his TV of all things."

Peter's attention perked at the mention of Norman Osborn and it was then Peter saw that Harry's eyes were puffy and red as if he had been crying. Suddenly Harry ghosting him made a lot more sense.

"You're missing him, aren't you?" Peter wondered.

Harry walked over and sank down into one of the bean bags, "Not much to miss of a man who thought you were this robot that needed to be controlled."

"Harry..." Peter walked over to crouch in front of him.

Harry, who realized what he had confessed, recoiled sharply. "That wasn't... I didn't mean... His death day was yesterday and I just..."

"You miss him," Peter repeated. "That's perfectly normal..."

"It's not that I miss him," Harry shook his head. "I mean I do, and I feel like I should, but at the same time I don't really know what to feel. Ever since Mom... Our relationship just got really complicated."

Peter got quiet for a moment before he offered, "Someone once told me that it's better to get something off of your chest when you go through the dark times."

"What's there to talk about?"

Peter shot him a knowing look. "Take it from someone who knows more than you might think."

Harry gritted his jaw and Peter could've sworn he saw the tears forming in his friend's eyes. "He left me a letter saying he hated me."

"What?" Peter was shocked.

"Dad had been on the verge of developing his own research company, but I guess you lose all inspiration when your blood relative gets dusted off the face of the Earth," Harry told him bitterly. "He never even told me he loved me, not since Mom died. All he did was drag me away from the only place I ever called home and find the smallest things to belittle me and shatter my self-confidence."

"I bet that's not true," Peter began, before he flinched at the reply. "That... that was inconsiderate, I'm sorry."

"You're not the only one to tell me that," Harry admitted. "Uncle Bill tried to tell me that too, and he was only his brother in law, you know? Dad... he wanted me to succeed, I know he did. He just didn't want me to succeed in things that I wanted to do, he only wanted me to pursue something that was better for his interests. He was always on me about being this breakthrough scientist but I never wanted that. I always dreamed of being an engineer, I love building things, physical inventions. I was never one for all the scientific method bullshit."

"But you still loved him," Peter's heart broke for his friend.

"Despite everything, he was still my Dad, you know? I wanted to find a way to hate him, I searched for it for years."

"And you couldn't," Peter smiled sadly.

"I miss him," Harry confessed. "I never thought I would, but dammit Pete... I still hear his voice in my head, but I'd do anything to hear it in person. What if I forget what he sounds like? What if I grow to forget him?"

Peter reached out to grab Harry shoulders. "That will never happen."

"You don't know that," Harry denied.

Peter's eyes softened. "I know more than you think. No matter where you go or what you do, he'll always be with you in some way. The physical memories might fade, but as cheesy as it sounds, he will always live in you."

Harry scoffed, "I know, he always called me his greatest damn creation."

Peter's brow furrowed at that and he fell silent for a minute before he said, "Ben was shot in front of me."

Harry's head snapped up at that, his face wrecked, "What?"

Peter sank down so that he was sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest. "The night that he was killed... We had this fight and I had ran off. I stopped by this small corner store to pick up some Tylenol for Aunt May, because apparently I had forgotten to do that on my way home from Ned's." More or less. "All of this over a damn bottle of over the counter painkillers."

Peter found his throat tightening at the memory. "He told me that I was being irresponsible, and that I had only been thinking of myself, and the thing is that he wasn't even wrong... I had been being selfish recently and it had been getting worse. May had said it came with being a teenager, but Uncle Ben always found a way to remind me that he had taught me to be better."

"Peter, you really don't have to..."

"I told him he wasn't my father before I stormed out of the apartment," Peter's voice broke but pushed forward. "And the thing is? I didn't even mean it. I was just trying to find a way to make him leave me alone, but I regretted the words as soon as they had came out of my mouth. I saw his entire face fall and I could see how much I had hurt him, but I just... I ran. His face that night is forever engraved in my brain and it will never leave me alone." Peter sniffled. "He was out that night looking for me and it was my fault. There was this guy who was robbing the counter and I hid behind a damn shelf like a fucking coward. The guy got away, but as I exited the store I saw him and Uncle Ben wrestling with a gun and then..." The lump in Peter's throat choked him and he cupped his face in his hands.

He had to take a few deep breaths before he was able to speak again. "I was a mess after that, so much so that I almost did the unforgivable. But May found me at his grave on that day and had brought me back home. I was scared too, like you are right now, but they never leave you. They live in everything that you do. The physical memories might fade, but everything that your father ever taught you will always be there when you need it the most. Uncle Ben... he's still in my head after these years. Your dad will never truly leave you. He's in here," Peter pointed at Harry's heart. "That's where he lives now, and that's where he'll stay."

Tears were falling from Harry's eyes uncontrollably at that point and Peter's heart ached in sympathy. "You can't let yourself bottle it in," Peter said.

It'll just find a way to destroy you in the end, Alex's words echoed in his mind and Peter felt his emotional resolve begin to break for an entirely different reason.

Harry used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away the tears before he asked, "Can we just study?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah. Distractions, right?"

Harry's lips tipped upwards in a faint smile. "What would we do without them?"

When Peter found himself walking back to his apartment that night, he felt hollow inside. The talk that he had with Harry had dug deeper than Peter wanted to admit to himself. Seeing his friend so vulnerable had unlocked the instinct of Peter's past self to find a way to support those he cared about no matter the cost. The cost in this case was showing Harry how vulnerable he was by sharing his darkest moment in the face of what had happened with his uncle. Seeing how those words made an impact with Harry made Peter realize that everything that people around him had said wasn't so different than when he was mourning his uncle's death.

In a way, Peter was still mourning a death, but that death had been his innocent self, the Peter that had never been to space. The Peter that still hadn't grasped the horrors that superheroes like the Avengers faced on a daily basis. The Peter that had tried so hard to be happy because he had felt like that was the only way to make his Uncle Ben proud. The Peter that had been too naive to realize that everything comes with consequences, and that every little thing you do will always require some sort of sacrifice.

I don't mean to lecture and I don't mean to preach. And I know I'm not your father... Uncle Ben's words rang in his ears.

Then stop pretending to be!

Peter recoiled at the memory and it made his stomach twist nauseatingly. Those were the final words that his uncle had ever heard from his nephew before he died. Those were the words that Peter would regret for the rest of his life.

When Peter walked into the apartment, he saw May sitting on the couch, her legs tucked off to the side with a book in her lap. She looked up at the sound of the door opening and her face softened when she saw the familiar haunted look in her nephew's face.

"Peter..." She raised her arms from where she sat on the couch, turning her body so she was sitting criss cross and facing him

Peter immediately came towards her, sitting in front of her so that he could fall into the comforting embrace of the only true mother figure he had in his life. He shamelessly buried his face in the crook of May's shoulder as his shoulders trembled with the small sobs that he couldn't suppress. The next several minutes passed by in a blur and when Peter felt emotionally drained enough to return to reality, he realized that May had repositioned him so that his legs were bent over his aunt's lap and he had curled himself into her so that his head was tucked under her chin. It was a position that he hadn't found himself in since he was younger and had nightmares of his parent's deaths. May was slightly rocking him back in forth and softly humming the Beatle's "Yesterday" in his ear.

"I miss him," Peter confessed quietly, his voice hoarse.

May paused in her humming, her hands tightening around him. "I know, Peter, I know."

"I hate this time of year..."

"October 1st... The worst time of the year," May agreed.

Peter flinched at the vocalization of the date and May just continued rubbing a hand up and down his back in a comforting manner.

They were silent for a few minutes before May said, "He's still proud of you."

Peter felt the tears return, "Why?"

"Because you've been through so much," May told him. "And you've shown how strong you are. You continue to show your strength, and more than that you give back to your family, friends and your community. You're a good man, and that's all he's ever wanted of you."

"But I'm not strong, May, I haven't been since..." Peter began sadly.

"You're wrong, Pete," May cut him off. "You're the sole definition of someone who is doing their best to do the right thing despite everything they've been through... despite how much they've been hurt, and despite how much they're still hurting."

"What if I'm not the same person I was from before?"

May paused for a moment in thought, before she asked, "Do you know why Ben loved that Beatles song so much?"

"Other than he loved crying to it?" Peter felt himself smile at the memory.

"It showed how vulnerability shapes who we are, and the choices we make," May said. "Just because Yesterday is gone, doesn't mean the shadows will linger forever. It doesn't matter if you cry or if you feel helpless or if you want to hide from everything crumbling down. In the end, those events will just show your strength in how you overcome those obstacles. It teaches you that even through those dark tunnels, there will always be some sort of light to guide you back to where you're always meant to be."

"He always used to sing it to me whenever I couldn't sleep," Peter reminisced. "I always found it funny and asked why he didn't just sing a happier song. He always told me I'd understand when I was older... I think I get what he means now."

May laughed quietly at the memory, "He was a strange one, wasn't he?"

"Sometimes being strange is what makes you special," Peter smiled at the familiar words.

"Quite wise, too, if I may add."

"The wisest," Peter agreed. They fell into silence once more before Peter timidly askeed, "Will I be okay?"

"No one can decide that for you," May told him genuinely. "We can show you multiple ways on how to find the right path, but you have to realize the destination for yourself. But you can be damn well sure I'll do my best to nudge you in the right direction. You're allowed to not be okay, and you're allowed to mourn all you want. You just need to know that eventually you have to face it, it doesn't have to be today or tomorrow, but you can't stay there forever. Do you remember Ben's analogy of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly?"

Caterpillars bid their time, gaining the strength they need in order to evolve into what they're destined to be, Peter recalled by heart. He found himself smiling in amusement, "Yeah, I do. He was famous for his analogies and metaphors, wasn't he?"

"Despite them being dramatic or annoying sometimes," May chuckled. "He's always a beacon of where we started, but he will always be the strongest supporter we have in finding our way into who we will become in the future."

"I'm tired of being sad," Peter confessed.

"Just another part of the entire process," May promised him. "It won't last. It may linger and it may try to bruise you up, but I know you. You're the strongest kid out there, and even if you don't believe it, I'll believe it for the both of us."

"Yesterday

All my troubles seemed so far away

Now it looks as though they're here to stay

Oh, I believe in yesterday

Suddenly

I'm not half the man I used to be

There's a shadow hanging over me

Oh, yesterday came suddenly"

- "Yesterday" by The Beatles

P.S. I'm just beginning to write the biggest twist ever and I'm not prepared for it whatsoever.

P.P.S. Anyone willing to make a cover art for me? I keep picturing a Peter, a tree, Ned, Alex, Tony and Harry. Not much context, but still looking for inspiration as I am not artistically creative in the drawing department.

Was it good? Was it bad? Feel free to let me know!