Aftermath:- A closed starter for @marvelsior ♡
The tinge of orange which stretched its way across the expanse of his ceiling started to recede, the last rays of the afternoon sun withdrawing behind the next building over. Peter watched the transitory of time with a solemn expression in place, blunt nails digging deeper into the fibres of his worn carpet. It didn’t seem fair to him, that things continued to persist in the same routine when so much has happened, when so many things have changed, when so much loss was suffered. He noted it on the added lines to May’s face, the now bare residence of Mr Gary from the shabby apartment block adjunct to their own; or the lack of his favourite hotdog stand on main. It was staggering how different things were all of a sudden, yet it was equally as unconceivable how much things stayed the same.
The teen heaved a sigh, grip relenting on his bedroom rug to rub at his tired lids, for once relieved that May had a double shift to seize her hours. Peter loved her something crazy, but her constant hovering following the funeral, the hesitant little smiles every time they made eye contact or the urgent grasping for his hands and face at random intervals (almost like she had to remind them both that he was still there) was really starting to wear him down. It made him feel guilty for ever leaving that bus, for leaving her and Ned and he did not want that, not when he knew it was the absolute right thing to do. Not when he knew deep down that he would make that same choice when presented with the opportunity.
In all honesty what Peter Parker really needed was to speak to someone, someone who was not snapped away for five years like a cheap Vegas act. It was just a shame that the only person he really wanted to talk to, disappeared off the face of the Earth--that or she really was avoiding him, maybe both given the insane state of things. Not wanting to fall down another black hole of 'sad Peter thoughts' the boy started to twist his hips to flop over onto his stomach, fingers stretching underneath his bedframe for his discarded phone. The black hole seemed like a welcomed reprieve when he remarked that all nineteen of his calls and his one stuttered attempt at a voice message had gone unchecked.
With a dejected whine Peter started to think that he might have imagined the whole battle Upstate, for there was no way that he held on to the Infinity Gauntlet (like a lifeline) for as long as he did, no way that he saw someone he thought to be long gone, but clearly wasn’t. For even though she seemed different, older, always wiser—and even though there was sparkly portals, alien armies and so much blood and debris, his wildest imaginative genes could never conjure up the best part of his formative years just like that. So it simply had to be *real*, he just wish he could figure out what he did wrong for her to be avoiding him; it didn’t help that these last few days were nothing but a blur but god he had to do something.
Brown hues lifted toward his backpack were it was flung into his desk-chair, momentarily entertaining the idea of asking for Karen’s input, but that idea was discarded before it could even fully form. He was not ready for that yet. So instead he unlocked his phone, finger pads sliding against the cracked screen with what little bravado he could muster. Since he didn’t know what he did wrong, he might as well cover everything in what he hoped to be the world’s most heartfelt text--
Gwen please, I’m Sorry :( -PP
--His thumb coming down hard on send before he could change his mind and banish his phone back under the shadows of his bed. Urgh maybe he should have asked Karen first after all...
