Author's Note:
Hey everyone! 👋
These next few chapters are a bit special for me, it's my first time writing in first-person POV, and I wanted to really step into Peter's shoes for once. I've always loved Spider-Man, not just for the action or the jokes, but for the heart behind every choice he makes. Writing this chapter was both emotional and eye-opening, trying to capture what it feels like to be him after everything.
This was so big and heavy I think I'll need a break,
I hope it hit the right notes for you, too. Let me know what you thought in the comments. Your feedback means a lot, especially for a chapter like this one. 🕷️❤️
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I was having a bad week.
It started the day after the invasion ended. I was exhausted, running on fumes and adrenaline that had finally crashed. Harry and Gwen flanked me as we pushed through the crowded emergency health camp set up outside Metropolitan Hospital.
The chaos inside was overwhelming. Doctors and nurses rushed between beds crammed so close together there was barely room to walk. The air reeked of antiseptic, blood, and fear. People sobbed. Others sat in stunned silence, staring at nothing.
First a god declaring his rule over Earth. Then an alien army invading through a portal. And now people resurrected from the freaking dead.
I felt numb to it all. My only focus was finding my family in the crowd.
"May! Uncle Ben!" My voice cracked as I called out, pushing past a nurse carrying medical supplies.
Then I saw them.
Uncle Ben lay on a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head and left arm. His neck was braced. Aunt May sat beside him, her own hands and face marked with smaller bandages, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
"Aunt May!" I broke into a run.
May looked up. Her face crumpled, and she stood, nearly stumbling, grabbing me the moment I reached her. Her hands frantically checked me over, touching my face, my arms, my shoulders. Searching for injuries like her life depended on it.
"Peter... oh my God, are you okay? Oh God, please tell me you're okay..."
"I'm fine, May. I'm fine." My voice wavered despite my attempts to sound strong. My hands trembled as I grabbed hers, trying to still their frantic searching. "But what about Uncle Ben? Are you okay? What the hell happened?"
May sobbed harder, her whole body shaking. She pulled me into another crushing hug, her grip almost painful, like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.
Uncle Ben tried to sit up, wincing. "May, honey, breathe. We're okay. We're gonna be fine."
"What happened?" I asked again, my voice barely above a whisper.
May pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes but not letting go of me. Her voice came out broken, punctuated by sobs. "It was... we were in New Jersey and that Loki bastard... on every screen... and the aliens, Peter, the aliens were real and..." She gasped for air. "We saw Manhattan. The destruction. All those buildings and... and we tried calling you. Over and over. Why didn't you answer? I kept calling and calling and..."
Her breathing got faster, more shallow. The nurse from earlier reappeared, concern crossing her face.
"Your location," May continued, her voice rising toward hysteria. "I checked your phone and you were right in the middle of it. Dead center. And Ben just... he didn't even think, he just turned the car around and..."
She was hyperventilating now, one hand pressed to her chest. "We were so scared. I thought you were dead. I thought we'd lost you and... the traffic and Ben kept saying your name and..."
"Ma'am, I need you to breathe," the nurse said firmly, moving to May's side.
But May couldn't stop. The words kept tumbling out between gasps. "Then we reached Manhattan and there was... debris everywhere and something hit us and the car... oh God, the car flipped and I screamed and Ben..."
She grabbed at me again, her nails digging into my arms. "Ben threw himself over me. There was so much blood. His blood. And I couldn't... I couldn't move and I thought we were dying. And all I could think was you'd be alone. You'd have no one and..."
The nurse was taking May's pulse now, her expression growing more concerned. "Ma'am, your blood pressure is too high. I need you to sit down."
"There were rainbow lights," May gasped out, ignoring the nurse entirely. "Everywhere. Like... like magic. And then this man in red and black, he just appeared and... and he pulled us out. He carried us both and..."
Her voice broke completely. She collapsed back into her chair, still gripping my arms, tears streaming down her face as her whole body shook with sobs.
I stood frozen. Motionless. My aunt's panic, my uncle's neck brace, the bandages, the blood. It all crashed over me at once. They'd almost died. All because I hadn't answered. I'd been too busy being Spider-Man to pick up the phone.
My vision blurred. My hands started shaking so badly I had to clench them into fists. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears.
Gwen appeared beside me, wrapping her arms around me. "Peter..."
Harry was on his phone, talking rapidly to someone.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The weight of it pressed down on me like a physical thing. Crushing, suffocating.
"I can't..." I started, but my voice cut off. My knees went weak.
Gwen's grip tightened, holding me up. "Peter, breathe. Just breathe. They're okay and more importantly they're alive. Look at me."
After about fifteen minutes, two men appeared, walking quickly through the emergency ward: George Stacy and Norman Osborn. Both looked frantic until they spotted their children.
George saw Gwen hugging me, saw the Parkers on their beds, and his expression shifted to understanding. He exchanged a wordless nod with Norman.
"Peter." George approached, his cop voice softened. "What's everyone's condition?"
I tried to answer but my throat closed. Harry stepped in, explaining quietly while Norman made a call to arrange a private room.
The next thing I knew, it was night and I was waking up on a sofa in a private hospital room. My family had been moved here. The space was quieter, cleaner, with actual beds instead of cots.
For a horrible, disorienting moment, my heart hammered. Then I saw Uncle Ben sitting beside Aunt May's bed, and reality crashed back.
I sat up too fast.
Uncle Ben sat beside Aunt May's bed, now able to move despite the neck brace. His unbandaged hand gently caressed May's hair as she slept, her breathing finally even.
"Uncle Ben..." My voice came out strangled.
Ben turned, smiling despite the obvious pain. "Hey, kiddo. You're up."
I stumbled across the room and threw myself at my uncle, wrapping my arms around him despite the bandages and neck brace.
"Uncle Ben, I'm sorry." The words tumbled out in a rush, thick with tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've... I didn't answer and you almost... you could've..."
I began to cry. Shaking sobs that I tried to muffle against Ben's shoulder so I wouldn't wake May. Tears and snot and gasping breaths that I couldn't control.
"It's all my fault," I choked out between gasps. "If I had just picked up your phone... if I had run away instead of helping them... if I just stayed in the bunker, none of this would have happened..."
I couldn't finish sentences. Couldn't get enough air. My whole body shook with the force of my crying.
Ben's shaky hands moved to my hair, gently stroking it. "Peter, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, son. It was natural for us to worry about you." His own voice was thick, unsteady. The pain medication and emotion mixing together.
"Why?" I pulled back, tears streaming down my face. "Why are you not angry? Why are you not mad? All I do is take and take from you and May... Just take and take and I can't... I'm not even..." I gasped for air. "I'm not even your son."
Ben's hand stopped mid-stroke.
Silence filled the room except for my ragged breathing and the quiet beep of medical monitors.
I wanted to take it back. Wanted to swallow the words. But they were out there now, hanging in the air between us. The secret fear I'd never said out loud.
Ben looked down at me. Even through the sharp pain running down his neck, even through the medication making everything fuzzy, his expression was nothing but love. Pure, absolute, unconditional love.
"You know, after your parents' crash, when we took you in, May was really worried. She asked me what we should do."
My breathing hitched. I tried to wipe my face with my sleeve, but more tears kept coming. "What did you say?"
Ben smiled, reminiscing. His voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "I said, 'There's only one thing to do, May. Only one thing we can do. We're his only living relatives. We'll bring him up, dear. Like our own son.'" He paused, his own eyes growing wet. "And you know what? We never had to pretend. Not for one day. Because you ARE our son, Peter."
My sobbing, which had been calming down, broke again. Harder this time. I buried my face in Ben's shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I said that. You're my family. You're..."
"Shh," Ben whispered, his hand still stroking my hair. "I know, son. I know."
Finally, when my sobs had quieted to shaky breathing and occasional hiccups, Ben spoke again.
"Hey." Ben pulled me back into a gentle hug, mindful of his injuries. "Peter, you need to go rest. Properly, in a bed. We'll be fine. I already talked to George. You'll be staying with them for a while. Just until we're back on our feet."
"No." My response was immediate, almost panicked. "I should stay here. I need to... what if something happens? What if you need me? I can't..."
"Peter." Ben's voice carried that particular tone that meant the discussion was over. But it was softer than usual, understanding. "Go. We'll still be here in the morning. And the morning after that. And the one after that. I promise, son. We're not going anywhere."
I wanted to protest. But looking at his exhausted face, at my aunt sleeping fitfully, I knew arguing would only add to their stress. And I'd caused them enough pain already.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay."
As I gathered my things with shaking hands, I heard a familiar voice calling my name from the hallway. "Peter! Peter!"
Gwen appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath from running. She crossed the room and hugged me again. "Let's go home, Peter."
I sighed, all the fight draining out of me. I was so tired. Tired in a way that sleep wouldn't fix. "Yeah."
George's voice came from behind Gwen. "Come on, kid. Everyone's tired. Let's get some rest."
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