he feels sick even before he approaches the podium. normally, the spandex — red and blue, hand-sewed — is enough to make him feel confident, more confident than peter parker has any right to feel. ordinarily, the mask is enough to give him a sense of bravado disproportionate to peter parker, the man. peter parker, the high school chemistry teacher.
tony had made it sound like a good idea. the only good idea. rational and one that makes sense in a way that peter feels foolish for not recognising before. he thinks of all the times that people had been hurt because of him, thinks of ben and then thinks of gwen. thinks that maybe gwen would be stood off to one side instead of mary jane if he'd shared with her who he was rather than hide it.
he thinks, too, that maybe she wouldn't, but maybe she'd be sat at home, watching this on tv with mixed emotions. mixed because they'd planned on getting married — they were going to graduate college and buy a home. they'd spoken about the white picket fence and the children in the loose, vague way that only young adults could.
they'd imagined they'd have the rest of their lives ahead of them.
peter had thought that it'd mean they'd have years. decades. he hadn't imagined that gwen would have him for the rest of her life, whilst peter would have her for only a moment. he'd known, loosely speaking, that being spider-man was a risk. that it endangered the people he cared about. ben first, then george, then gwen. he'll carry ben's death with him for the rest of his life in a way that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words, but gwen's death is something else entirely.
he was supposed to be better than that. he was supposed to know better and do better. spider-man was anonymous, a masked man to stop that from happening. gwen should never have died, he should have been able to stop it. norman should never have—.
so, he thinks, maybe he was wrong. tony was right: the only way to really protect the people he cares about — the only way to protect may and to protect mj; the only way to protect queens and manhattan and new york and the world is to admit the truth. ]
My name is Peter Parker, [ he says, pulling the cloth mask from his face. his hair, mussed from where the mask has been pressing down on it, curls messily about his forehead and his eyebrows. he's approaching his late-twenties, if his appearance is anything to go by.
there's a breath of a pause as a series of flashes capture him in film. capture him digitally. capture him on video. his gut twists, and he thinks he's going to throw up. his mouth is dry and his head's spinning ], and I've been Spider-Man since I was 15.
[ he doesn't know how long he's in the bathroom.
tony tells him it's been twenty minutes.
peter thinks it's been longer. he thinks he's made a mistake. he thinks he's spent twenty minutes vomiting food he ate five years ago. he thinks, too, that it's been longer than twenty minutes, and he hopes it's been long enough that the reporters have dispersed. that everyone who's interested has had their fill in looking up who peter benjamin parker is on the internet.
the results are unexciting, he imagines: orphaned as a very small child; uncle killed at 15; freelance photographer for the daily bugle; permanent member of staff for the daily bugle; principle photographer of spider-man—
which, given the reveal, makes sense.
peter feels sick and he feels, simultaneously, like there's nothing left in his stomach to vomit.
he sits in front of a hospital bed and he feels, more than anything, guilt.
he'd felt guilty for ben. for gwen. for everything that he might have made a difference for but none of it compares to this. he'd thought may being diagnosed with poisoning from his blood had been one of the worst moments of his life, but it's nothing compared to this. his head swims and he's not sure that he can focus on anything other than the knowledge that this is his fault.
it was his choice to side with tony. he'd known, all along, that revealing his identity would open up everyone he cared for to being hurt. he'd asked, but he thinks that almost makes it worse. he'd asked, despite knowing what he could lose. despite knowing what mj could lose. what may could lose.
he'd been selfish when he should have known better.
may is in a coma and peter doesn't know what he'll do if she doesn't make it. if mj is his world, may is his universe. he wouldn't be who he is without her: she's strong and kind and incredible in all the ways that peter aspires to be, and peter imagines that if he loses her, he'll fall apart.
peter feels sick, and he thinks again of how he'd approached the podium before telling the world that peter parker was spider-man. he replays it in his mind, twisting the white cloth of the hospital bedsheets between his fingers. he thinks of what he could have done different, and all he can think is that may and mj deserve more. they deserve better. ]
โeleven
[ peter feels sick.
he feels sick even before he approaches the podium. normally, the spandex — red and blue, hand-sewed — is enough to make him feel confident, more confident than peter parker has any right to feel. ordinarily, the mask is enough to give him a sense of bravado disproportionate to peter parker, the man. peter parker, the high school chemistry teacher.
tony had made it sound like a good idea. the only good idea. rational and one that makes sense in a way that peter feels foolish for not recognising before. he thinks of all the times that people had been hurt because of him, thinks of ben and then thinks of gwen. thinks that maybe gwen would be stood off to one side instead of mary jane if he'd shared with her who he was rather than hide it.
he thinks, too, that maybe she wouldn't, but maybe she'd be sat at home, watching this on tv with mixed emotions. mixed because they'd planned on getting married — they were going to graduate college and buy a home. they'd spoken about the white picket fence and the children in the loose, vague way that only young adults could.
they'd imagined they'd have the rest of their lives ahead of them.
peter had thought that it'd mean they'd have years. decades. he hadn't imagined that gwen would have him for the rest of her life, whilst peter would have her for only a moment. he'd known, loosely speaking, that being spider-man was a risk. that it endangered the people he cared about. ben first, then george, then gwen. he'll carry ben's death with him for the rest of his life in a way that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words, but gwen's death is something else entirely.
he was supposed to be better than that. he was supposed to know better and do better. spider-man was anonymous, a masked man to stop that from happening. gwen should never have died, he should have been able to stop it. norman should never have—.
so, he thinks, maybe he was wrong. tony was right: the only way to really protect the people he cares about — the only way to protect may and to protect mj; the only way to protect queens and manhattan and new york and the world is to admit the truth. ]
My name is Peter Parker, [ he says, pulling the cloth mask from his face. his hair, mussed from where the mask has been pressing down on it, curls messily about his forehead and his eyebrows. he's approaching his late-twenties, if his appearance is anything to go by.
there's a breath of a pause as a series of flashes capture him in film. capture him digitally. capture him on video. his gut twists, and he thinks he's going to throw up. his mouth is dry and his head's spinning ], and I've been Spider-Man since I was 15.
[ he doesn't know how long he's in the bathroom.
tony tells him it's been twenty minutes.
peter thinks it's been longer. he thinks he's made a mistake. he thinks he's spent twenty minutes vomiting food he ate five years ago. he thinks, too, that it's been longer than twenty minutes, and he hopes it's been long enough that the reporters have dispersed. that everyone who's interested has had their fill in looking up who peter benjamin parker is on the internet.
the results are unexciting, he imagines: orphaned as a very small child; uncle killed at 15; freelance photographer for the daily bugle; permanent member of staff for the daily bugle; principle photographer of spider-man—
which, given the reveal, makes sense.
peter feels sick and he feels, simultaneously, like there's nothing left in his stomach to vomit.
he sits in front of a hospital bed and he feels, more than anything, guilt.
he'd felt guilty for ben. for gwen. for everything that he might have made a difference for but none of it compares to this. he'd thought may being diagnosed with poisoning from his blood had been one of the worst moments of his life, but it's nothing compared to this. his head swims and he's not sure that he can focus on anything other than the knowledge that this is his fault.
it was his choice to side with tony. he'd known, all along, that revealing his identity would open up everyone he cared for to being hurt. he'd asked, but he thinks that almost makes it worse. he'd asked, despite knowing what he could lose. despite knowing what mj could lose. what may could lose.
he'd been selfish when he should have known better.
may is in a coma and peter doesn't know what he'll do if she doesn't make it. if mj is his world, may is his universe. he wouldn't be who he is without her: she's strong and kind and incredible in all the ways that peter aspires to be, and peter imagines that if he loses her, he'll fall apart.
peter feels sick, and he thinks again of how he'd approached the podium before telling the world that peter parker was spider-man. he replays it in his mind, twisting the white cloth of the hospital bedsheets between his fingers. he thinks of what he could have done different, and all he can think is that may and mj deserve more. they deserve better. ]