[10 days earlier]
If there had been any resident still awake in Forest Hills at two in the morning, and if they had happened to glance out the window, they would have witnessed something they would, without a doubt, struggle to forget. After all, it was not every day that one saw a Spider-Man reduced to bloody rags trying to land on the pavement and failing miserably.
Peter hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, bouncing once before rolling uncontrollably across the rough concrete. Each turn tore a new scrape from his already lacerated skin, every impact reigniting pains he swore he was getting used to.
"ARGHH-MMMMMMMM" The fact that Peter managed to smother the cry of pain at the last second was a feat of endurance on its own. Even so, the price for not waking the neighborhood with his misery came in the form of a metallic taste flooding his mouth, the result of biting down on his lower lip hard enough to split it open.
Now, on top of countless other injuries, Peter had blood running from his mouth. Not that the addition made much difference to his deplorable appearance. And the pain there hardly mattered. The real agony was elsewhere.
For a few seconds, he remained motionless, staring at the night sky spinning slowly above him, the stars reduced to flickering blurs. Peter blinked hard, trying to steady his vision.
"C-come on, Peter... you made it this far somehow. Y-you can take a few more steps. We're almost there," Peter whispered to himself in a trembling voice as he fought with every fiber of his being to stand. The world swayed dangerously when he rose, and for one terrible moment, he thought he would collapse again.
But he found strength somewhere—perhaps in the thought of May finding him like that, perhaps in the sheer stubbornness that had always defined him—and forced himself upright, beginning to limp slowly down the dark, deserted street. His left hand, the only one that obeyed his commands, pressed against the right side of his chest, trying to contain what he feared was more than just a bruise.
Unfortunately, with each step he took, it became painfully obvious that those few meters would be the hardest to cross. The adrenaline from his fight against Norman was fading fast, further intensifying the pains that were already nearly unbearable throughout his body.
'Let's see... a twisted leg, if not broken, a ridiculously dislocated arm, a dozen cuts, probably internal bleeding, possibly ruptured eardrums since this ringing hasn't stopped, a split lip, countless bruises, one hell of a concussion if this blurred vision means anything and... yeah, I think that's everything.' Peter mentally catalogued his injuries, trying to distract himself from the pain threatening to snuff out his consciousness. 'But aside from that, I'm great.'
His feet dragged heavily along the sidewalk now, each step a reminder of his fragility.
Peter continued like that until he finally caught sight of his fence. But any sense of relief that reaching home might have brought vanished the moment he noticed, to his horror, that the living room lights were on.
His heart sank.
'No... no, no, no. Don't tell me May is still awake.' Peter froze for a second, dread overpowering even the physical pain. If his beloved aunt saw him in that state, she would surely collapse. Or worse: have another heart attack. The mere mental image of that happening was so terrifying that Peter felt his stomach churn.
He would not survive that guilt.
Crossing the yard at a snail's pace, Peter used the cover of night shadows and cautiously approached the front window that faced the living room, peering in through the corner of the glass.
There she was.
'Oh... May...'
As he feared, his aunt was sitting on the couch. But to his sorrow, she was not awake. She was asleep in a clearly uncomfortable position, her head tilted to the side, resting awkwardly against the back of the sofa. An unfinished crochet piece lay loosely in her lap, the needles still caught in the yarn, as if she had fought against sleep and eventually lost the battle. The television was on at a low volume, casting dancing shadows on the wall, probably some late-night talk show she had put on for company.
She had fallen asleep waiting for him.
***
Disclaimer: This story and its characters belong to Sony Pictures and Marvel Comics (Disney). This is merely a fanfiction written by a fan, with no intention of infringement.