So many died.

I was there. I was there and yet – they died. I didn't save them. I didn't even understand what was happening. With all my spider-powers, I was frozen. I was useless. I—

Times Square. I'm here with MJ. I don't even remember where we are going, she's all I see. She's smiling, pulling me through the crowd, telling me something. I can't concentrate. I feel her warm hand in mine, and I have to keep reminding myself she's not my girlfriend, like a mantra, over and over again in my head. Otherwise, I can only think about kissing her. What it would feel like to have her soft lips back on mine, to have her body so close I—Here I go again. Mary Jane isn't my girlfriend. She's my friend. Friends don't kiss each other. Friends don't spend Saturday afternoons with their naked bodies pressed together. Friends spend their time doing … whatever it is we are doing.

And then all goes to hell.

My spider-sense, it hits so strong I almost trip. I hear her asking what's wrong, but there isn't time to answer. I push her in the nearest alley, in the shadows away from sight. The danger, I can't tell where it's coming from - I hear the first shot and the woman next to me falls to the ground. She was pushing a stroller. The people start panicking, I try to reach the woman but then I hear another shot to my left, the crowd is changing the direction, another shot to my right. It's coming from everywhere. Again, and again, and again. Shot after shot after shot. And I can't tell where the next one is gonna come from. The people keep falling.

I was supposed to do something. I can't think. The baby in the stroller is crying. I grab her, press her close to me. What am I supposed to do? The people keep falling all around me, I don't know which way to go.

Someone pulls at my jacket. I don't resist. It's her. She pulls me in the alleyway. She's screaming at me, and, yet again, I don't hear her. I can't take my eyes of the crying baby and in my head, I see her mother falling to the ground over and over again. I didn't save her mom. It's my fault she won't have a mom growing up.

And then Mary Jane slaps me, "Peter, do something!" That pulls me out of it. I hand her the little girl and tell her to get away. My clothes are already on the ground, and I run up the wall to find the shooters. But I know it's too late. People are dead. And all I see is red.

I go to her place after it's all over. That's what friends do. And I can't be alone right now. I think I would drown by myself. I climb in through her window.

She's sitting on her couch looking through an old photo album. She looks up at me as I come closer. It's all of us, in high school, in college. Back when life was simpler. I see myself laughing with Gwen. I pull the album out of her hands and set it closed on the table.

"Peter?" she says and stands up. "I saw the news. You know none of this was your fault, right?"

I don't answer. I – I don't know what to do with myself, so I stand still and don't say anything. I leave it up to her to figure it out.

"C'mon, let's take this off," she slips her fingers under my mask. I close my eyes and just concentrate on her fingers on my skin. But then the mask is off, her fingers gone. I miss them. I open my eyes and look at her.

"There were so many shooters, you couldn't have-,"

Again, I don't listen. I don't want to hear it. But now I know what I do want. I put my hands on her face, the tips of my fingers slipping into her hair. She freezes.

"Peter- Don't do this-"

I have to. I gotta get away from the pain. It's a good kiss. Just as I thought, she takes the pain away. I can feel her weakly pushing against my chest, but I can't let go. I reach deeper into her mouth, and she gives up. She reaches back. We crash.

My hands are down to her waist, pulling her t-shirt out of her pants and then going under it. She presses her body closer to mine. I unhook her bra, pull of her shirt and she lets the bra fall to the ground. Her hands are going under my costume, but she is too slow. I take the top off myself and then I need her back. My mouth, my tongue it's on her skin. I kiss down her neck and her head falls back. She's breathing hard. I feel her pulse with my tongue. It's strong. She's alive and here, and with me. Nothing else matters.

I need less between us. I need more of her. I push, with my whole body. She has nowhere to go but back down on the couch. I go down with her. Her legs go around my waist and I let my hips crush into her. I feel her breasts pressing into my chest and some other time I would have slowed down, savoured the moment, but I'm desperate now. My tongue is back in her mouth and there is no resistance from her. She doesn't try to fight as she used to when she would try to make me submit to her. When it was a game. She usually won then. Now, she lets me do whatever I want. Whatever I need.

I reach down between us and unbutton her jeans. The zipper slides down and I'm pulling them off. I have to sit up to get them off completely but now I have her naked legs brushing my sides. While I'm up, I push my own pants out of the way and now she is pulling me back down to her.

She gasps as I push into her, her nails digging into my back. I know I'll hate myself for this later, for causing her pain. I don't care. The nails let up and the gasps turn into moans. I hide my face in her neck, in her hair. I bite into her skin to which she replies with more red marks on my back. Her breathing gets quicker, and she arches her back. I push harder and she comes. I'm right there with her. My moans are muffled but hers are right into my ear, and she holds onto me.

We both stay like that for a moment, breathing hard. And here it is. I knew it was gonna come, but it still hit harder than I expected. The disgust.

What did I just do?