Mind Full of Roses // Peter Parker

4.3: The Ghost of The Quatum Realm

My breath fogs against the glass and I wipe my hand against the cool surface, trees flying past becoming clearer once I've cleared away the condensation.

Nat and Steve whisper loudly in the front seats of the car but their words float to my ears anyway in small snippets.

"...time travel, it's impossible, isn't it?...."

"...we could save them..."

"...what if it doesn't work?..."

Scott sits next to me, humming to a song that he pestered Nat to put on the radio, banging his head in time to the beat and tapping his fingers against his legs like a pair of drumsticks. The action gives me a painful reminder of Pete and how he would tap his fingers against his thighs whenever he was walking to school with his earphones in. I squeeze my eyes shut and look away before another memory can worm it's way to the front of my mind.

Too late.

Peter is sat next to me, his leg pressed against mine as the bus' engine shudders underneath our seat. I look at him and find him already looking at me, a small smile covering his lips. He's holding out one of his earbuds to me and I take it with a small shake of my head and a laugh.

"What? You didn't think I'd be listening to music without you, did you?" He gasps and holds his heart as though I'd wounded him. "Oh, you think so lowly of me that I may die!"

I roll my eyes to hide the smirk creeping up to my face. "Oh shut it, you dickhead."

He quickly leans forward and kissed my check, the movement so sudden that I don't realise that it happened until he's settled back down in his seat with the music playing and his hands tapping against his leg, occasionally hitting mine.

"Hey, you okay?"

I open my eyes with a start and quickly dab at my wet cheeks. When did I start crying? Nat and Steve haven't noticed anything and their eyes remain on the road. Scott Lang, however, is leaning on his arm, lounging across the seat until he's halfway across the bench.

He's looking at me with concern in his eyes, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. "You want a tissue?"

He pulls out an old of tissues that must have been in his pocket for years since a white cloud of fluff comes out with them. He takes out the least disintegrated tissue and holds it out for me. I look at him for a second before slowly pulling it from his hand and wiping under my eyes with it, blinking away some more fluff.

When Scott walked into the compound, the looks on Steve and Natasha's face made me think they were seeing a ghost. But of course, there was a ghost: Scott Lang. Apparently five years ago no one had heard from him and they put him on the list of The Fallen, along with Peter Parker and Yelena Belova. Yet, once he settled down slightly, he told us where he really was: the Quantum Realm. He explained how instead of being stuck in there for five years, it only felt like five hours for him.

His existence and the fact that he is here should make me feel relieved and happy and hopeful for the others but a small selfish part of me wishes that it is Peter or Yelena say next to me instead of him. That in some different, equally fucked up world, it was one of them stuck in the Quantum Realm instead of Scott. Even just thinking of it fills me with such self-disgust and grief that I have to turn back to the window for a second to blink away the tears.

"Hey," Scott starts, his voice careful so the others can't hear. "It's not your fault, okay?"

White-hot anger clouds my mind and I turn to him before I can think better of it. "Yes it is." My voice is a lot louder than his was and it earns me some stares from the rear-view mirror; a sympathetic look from Steve and a questioning brow from Nat. I swallow as guilt from shouting at Scott creeps up my throat and I keep my eyes trained on my lap and the tissue that has been ripped to shreds. Quieter this time: "I'm sorry."