would you look at that! it's a... blurb... thing...
he looked everywhere. under the piles of unfolded laundry, through his overflowing hamper, even checked the car. twice. his backpack was nowhere to be found. peter tugged at the ends of his hair, running his hand through the unkempt mess, and thinking to himself, "how do you manage to lose an entire backpack?" and it was a valid question.
how do you manage to lose twelve backpacks in two months?
ask peter. but then again, he wouldn't know.
last he left it, it was in the alley. but it wasn't stolen, he walked home with it. and then what? he couldn't remember. where on earth did he leave it last? he always dropped it somewhere after changing into his suit. suit. not costume, as y/n would phrase it. peter groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"everything good, honey?" aunt may called.
he really didn't want to have to tell may about this. she had gotten so upset the last couple of times, and the best excuse he could ever come up with was; "those darn pickpocketers." poor may would just give him a wary look and take an aspirin by the sink. she didn't get paid enough for this. in fact, she didn't get paid at all, to her utter disappointment. aunt may loved peter, but that boy was a job.
he nibbled anxiously on his bottom lip as he stood at the top of a building, dressed in his not-costume. peter had checked everywhere that it could possibly be, and was now brainstorming ideas on how to tell may he needed a new backpack. and a new excuse.
"hey may! i've lost my backpack for the hundredth time! why? oh, cause i'm spiderman." he muttered sarcastically to himself. peter knew that if his told her that, she'd probably go into cardiac arrest. he couldn't even get one himself, aunt may would find out. she always found out.
he swung down to the café he'd been to early, pushing open the door and waltzing in, thank god it was mostly empty, or else the paparazzi would have eaten him alive.
"hey, um, you got a second? cool. i, uh, have you seen a black backpack around here? jansport, um, asking for a friend."
the guy looked up from the counter and raised an eyebrow. "...no?" peter groaned lightly, stomping his foot comedically. "gah, thanks anyways."
he rushed back out, webbing to the lamppost and perching on it. where else had he been today?
the park!
he swung in that direction, looking overhead for the bag. peter squinted at a black lump by the back of the park near the trees. he pumped a fist and and landed by it, feeling well-accomplished. a terrible stench hit his nostrils and he scrunched his nose up.
it was not a backpack. it was a trash bag.
peter cursed to himself, shoulders slumped. he started swinging back to his house, looking down below for it. he let out a small yelp, barely swerving a bird. landing on the front porch, he went on rehearsing what to say, mumbling incoherent nothings to himself. peter unlocked the door, pursing his lips together.
"uh, hey aunt may. i, um, i-"
"yeah, hon?"
as he took a breath, his phone starting ringing, causing him to flinch lightly. "sorry, may, just a sec."
he glanced at the caller, subconsciously smiling to himself at the sight of her name. accepting the call he greeted her, with a small "hi."
"babe?" y/n asked, "you left your backpack at my place, when we were studying."
oh.