crushing pain

please someone help me

please

"I wasn't aiming for you"

"If you're nothing without the suit you shouldn't have it"

Dust everywhere, filling his lungs.

it hurts

oh god it hurts everywhere

please i'm down here-

Peter shot up from his bed, his breathing hurried and yet all caught in his throat. He couldn't get enough air in his lungs. Every breath seemed impossible and his hands shook.

His eyes blurred, Peter could no longer focus on anything. Deep down, he knew that he was not trapped under the concrete rubble of a building he once thought would be his tomb. But logic didn't seem to matter when it felt like Peter was fighting for every breath.

He needed to get out of the building. The brick walls felt like they were closing in on him, the ceiling looked more unstable by the minute. He needed fresh air, he needed to be free. He needed–

With a shaky breath, and the wall as a support, Peter managed to stand up from the corner of the room he managed to push himself in during his panic. He staggered, slowly at first, up the flight of stairs that led to the roof.

Slamming open the roof's door, Peter became intoxicated by the fresh air and sounds of night. It was around 4am, so he had only around gotten two hours of sleep. Despite knowing he needed more, he couldn't stomach the idea of trying to go back to sleep. Not after the panic attack he was still trying to subdue. Being out of the building seemed to help control his panic a little. Or maybe it was the time rolling by. The body can only panic for around 20 minutes, so the attack was starting to die off.

Shutting his eyes tight, Peter took in the largest breath he could and leaned back till he was lying on the cold floor of the roof. When he finally opened his eyes again, the panic that filled his chest seemed to dissipate. Peace returned to his mind once more.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Only then did Peter notice the sky. For the first time in Peter's memories, the night sky was completely clear—nothing covering the bright stars and glowing moon.

For what seemed like hours, Peter sat there looking at the sky. The moon, the stars. Everything was still.

When the sun finally started to rise in the east, Peter remained still. He listened to the sound of the city waking up to start its day. The sounds of cars, birds, people on their way to here or there. Peter closed his eyes, and imagined what it would be like if he had never been bitten by that spider all those years ago. In a world without aliens, superpowers, Thanos or any heroes at all. Just people living their life day by day without the threat of danger constantly hanging over their head.

He thought of waking up in his apartment to the sound of Ben and May talking in the kitchen. Seeing Ned at school and not talking about Spider-Man, but about them. He imagined getting a good night's rest, free of memories he was trying too hard to forget.

The saddest part was how impossible the idea felt. The idea of a normal life. Even now, as he had a chance to try and fix things, he wouldn't be able to have a normal life.

When he was younger, his uncle would tell him that everyone's life was a movie. That his would be a coming of age story until he was old enough to decide what genre he wanted it to be. But now, Peter's life just felt like a tragedy. One with unsettling music playing throughout every scene. With depressed characters and an ever shortening cast list. One with no happy ending, just the melancholy acceptance that some people aren't meant to get the girl, find their purpose, or have their happy ending.

Some people are just meant to be understudies in a movie that used to be about them.

Ben was wrong, you don't get to pick the genre of your life story. It is written for you through everyday growing up. Where every moment is a note to the story's main theme. With sorrowful moments being flat notes and lost friends being rests.

Perhaps that is why his life always seemed to play in a minor key.

Nothing is ever in your control. Free will is an illusion painted by the generations before you to make you think you have a choice. Peter didn't have a choice to become Spider-Man, when the world handed him this life he couldn't just stand by and watch it burn. He had to help.

Everyone who has ever been a hero had no choice but to be one.

But Peter didn't feel like a hero anymore, he didn't feel anything. He was just a kid. No matter how much he hated to admit it. Despite this, he was always saving others his whole life, when others should have been saving him.

Did it matter though?

He would have grown up anyway, now he was just doing it a little earlier.

Gathering his strength Peter stood up from his spot on the roof. Only then did he realise it was around 8am. He really had been sitting there for ages. His grumbling stomach reminded him of his hunger.

Which was fine, he had money now. He could eat—but he had to be careful. He could spend all his money at once, he needed to save some in case of emergencies.

As he walked back down the stairs to 'his room,' he took the $50 out of his jean pocket. Two 20s and a $10 note.

Ok, Peter thought, I will save 30, spend 10-ish on breakfast and 10 on lunch. And do the same with the money I earn tonight.

He quickly realised that buying food from cafes would cost more. If he went to one of the smaller, local grocery shops he could get some fruit or canned goods that won't go bad and keep them at his home for future use. And he could save more money to get clothes and such.

Stuffing the two twenties under the pillows he called a bed, Peter made his way out of his building and started searching for a grocery store.

—

The shop itself was small and the lady at the counter was old. Her greying brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, she smiled at everyone who entered the store and everyone smiled back. It felt like a little family, and she treated them all as such.

"Hello. Welcome to my store, can I help you with anything?" the woman asked, her smile could be heard through her words alone.

"No, ma'am. I'm just getting some food."

"Ah, don't call me ma'am, makes me feel older than I am. Call me Auntie Camila."

With a smile Peter responded, "Ok, Auntie Camila."

The woman simply smiled back as Peter began looking around the store. Spotting a packet of 10 muesli bars for $4. He grabbed them, if Peter knew one thing it was that muesli bars had a fair amount of calories in them. He used to always keep them in his school bag in case he got hungry, they were easy to play off as small snacks so he could eat a lot with his metabolism.

He also picked up a bag of apples which also cost 4 dollars. It would be enough for today, and he would have some food left over for tomorrow.

Walking over to the cashier, Peter pulled out his ten dollar bill and placed his items on the counter.

"This all, sugar?" Auntie Camila asked as she began to scan his items.

"Yes please, ma'am," Peter responded with a faint smile. The women gave him a stern look. Realising, Peter amended;

"I mean Auntie Camila."

She nodded at his response and handed him the food which she had placed in a paper bag for him.

"That'll be $8."

He handed her the money and she slipped it into the cash register. As she handed him back his $2, she also gave Peter a small chocolate bar.

"Oh, uh. I didn't pay for this."

Shaking her head, she refused to take back the chocolate.

"That's for you, sugar. This is your first time shopping at Auntie's store so it's a little gift. You take it and have a nice day now, yeah?"

Playfully rolling his eyes Peter took the change and the chocolate, after thanking the lady of course, and left the story and once again began making his way towards his home.

—

With a temporarily satisfied stomach, Peter watched the minutes on the clock tower tick by. He could barely hold in his excitement.

In just an hour, he would be at SI. Not just to visit, but with a chance to get to return every week. A chance to regain the normality he missed so much since he had arrived back in time. Peter was practically vibrating with excitement. He had spent the time since returning to his "home" to go through everything he could ever need to know about science—which Peter quickly realised was a lot.

Other than probably being science related, Peter had no idea what the questions on the test would be on.

Chemistry? Maybe.

Physics? It could be.

Electronics? Possibly.

Or every other type of science out there. There was no telling what it could be, so Peter had to think about everything he had ever learnt to prepare. Which was a lot, in case he hadn't already said.

If this was back in Peter's time, he would have got Ned or Mr. Stark to quiz him. But they weren't here, so all Peter could do was run through everything he could remember and try to quiz himself. Which was hard, if he didn't know or remember something he wouldn't know to quiz himself on it.

Peter continued to go through things as he began his walk to SI

The walk wasn't long, but not pleasant either. It just was like every other walk he had been on in the last three day. Peter wasn't sure he had ever walked this much in his life, he was so used to taking the subway or the bus to get around. Though his feet had long since gotten used to the dull ache.

Nevertheless, Peter soon arrived at his destination, a full ten minutes early. But hey, it was better to be early than late.

Nervously making his way over to the reception desk, Peter noticed there were some other people who looked his age and older standing around the lobby as well—most likely other people here to take the test too.

Looking up at the man sitting at the reception desk Peter asked;

"Is this where I go for the internship test?" Curse his voice for how nervous it sounded, he had hoped to hide it.

Not yet looking away from the screen, the man replied "It is, and your name would be?"

"Peter, Peter Parker."

The man typed something into his computer, scrolled for a bit before finally looking at Peter. Then back at the computer. Then at Peter again.

"All your information is here, you are all good. Take a seat over there. We will call everyone over when we are going to start."

Thanking the man, Peter turned to find a set in the area the receptionist pointed to earlier. As he turned, he saw him sitting on one of the couches. Peter didn't know how he hadn't seen him before.

Eugene Thompson, better known as Flash had made himself comfortable on the white couch and was currently bragging to someone about how sure he was that he was going to get in.

Shit.