Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. Both matching- yet you swore you saw more colors in his eyes- kind of. The colors you saw were very dull, but they were there. Something stripped him of all his colors, and you hoped to be able to put them back for him. Even if it meant dulling some of your own.
You kind of wished you hadn't been so hopeful or so wanting. You gave him some of your colors without him knowing. He ate them up, yes, but they didn't change him. He just wanted your flowers and something to numb everything inside of him.
You only gave him flowers.
You were his flower girl. You provided him with some very special flowers. A favorite to someone he knew-someone he mourned. Sometimes he remembered you, and sometimes he didn't. It was the times that he remembered you that you lived for. It was like some twisted high for you. You hated it, but you loved it as well. You got a look at who he was before. What kind of man he was before the world destroyed him from the inside out.
One day, he remembered you. He carried out a conversation with you, somewhat.
"I just really love these flowers.", he says, giving you a half warm smile.
"They're really pretty, so I can see why."
A different smile takes over his face, it's big and genuine and your heart jumps upon seeing it, "Heh, you're really pretty too-", he cuts himself off, looking visibly shaken.
You're flattered and for a moment, unaware of why he looks that way. You think it's embarrassment, innocent embarrassment, so you say, "Hey, it's okay-"
He shakes his head, "No. N-No it's not I- you look like her and- and these are hers- hers. I can't. I'm so sorry- I have to go."
Then he's off, leaving you confused and flustered. What do you make of that? Who is she and what had she done to him?
That should've been your first sign. The first big red flag. He loved another girl- his heart belonged to someone else, so therefore it'd be wrong and useless to give him yours. Giving him yours might fill the gaping hole in his chest, but it wouldn't stop the bleeding. It would only leave you empty and cold, and it would make him feel more guilty.
Your flower boy knew he couldn't love you, not the way you wanted and deserved. You deserved someone fresh- a clean slate. Someone who could move forward from their past, and not cling to it like he did. He clung until his hands bled, and even then he refused to let go. His past was his lifeline, it was all he knew. She was all he knew. He couldn't remember who he was before her, and he didn't know who he could be without her. When he had thought of the future, he had thought of her- but she's gone now, so what was his future?
You didn't deserve the baggage he had- the scars he hid. He didn't want you to pour yourself into his empty shell and lose all of what you were. You looked too much like her and he had to constantly remember that you weren't her. It wasn't healthy, but god- you looked at him in such a way..
He had to try, just for your sake. Maybe you'd see just how messed up he'd become and you'd leave. Maybe-
He let himself talk to you and befriend you. You grew to know him, taking it all slow. You learned of his bad habit of mixing his meds with alcohol and how he tended to forget for awhile. You did your best to help him out of it- did all you could to learn him and try to ground him, but he was like sand. You could grab fistfuls and hold onto them, but at some point, only mere tiny grains would stay stuck to your palms. Useless and uncomfortable.
Still, you were hopeful, and so you held onto those tiny grains. You clutched them tight and one day, you swore it paid off.
He kissed you.
His lips had been warm and inviting, despite being chapped. It was a feeling you thought you could get used to. It was addicting- but that was the problem. Addictions were hardly ever a good thing, and though the highs could be amazing, the lows were damn near torture. As soon as the kiss had happened, it stopped when his salty tears touched your lips. He pulled away abruptly, horribly shaken and with such a pitiful look on his face.
"I can't.", he told you, "I fucking can't.."
You'd realized that shaken look was not from embarrassment, but some form of regret. Like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have and that should have told you just how attached he still was, even after such time. You didn't know an entire life had been taken from him, not just one, but two. An entire happy future was ripped from him and he couldn't cope.
His grains of sand were turning into air but you still hung on- you were so sure he would change, so positive this twisted cycle of highs and lows would balance out. You let yourself fall into it- because you loved him. You loved when he touched you and when he held you. You loved when you got to hold him and when you could kiss his tears away. You loved Peter Benjamin Parker and dammit, he tried.
He tried so hard to love you, but it just wasn't enough. He couldn't do it.
He'd never been more sorry. His soul was infected with sorrow and emptiness- and he let it eat away at you. He did- and so once he was gone, so was that part of you he took..
You remembered losing it all as if it'd happened hours ago.
"Things are getting crazy out there..", he tells you, leaning against the wall near your window. He peers out of it, awaiting the signal for him to go.
"You don't have to leave.", you say, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around him. You hug him tightly, but he remains stiff as he always does on low nights.
"I do. It's my job, you know that."
"Your job is what hurt you. You're miserable, and other heroes exist for a reason."
He sighs and lets his head drop. It's the same conversation you've had since he let you in a little. You tell him he doesn't have to, he insists he does. It always ends in scratchy throats and tears and he's so so tired. He knows you are too.
"I know.. so.. after this, after tonight, I'll stop. I know I've been unfair to you. I know... I know it hurts when you hear me talk about her or forget everything so.. I promise. After tonight.. I'll try."
Your heart soared- you'd been waiting for this cycle to end. For the coaster of hurt to finally come to an end, "Really?"
"Yes.", he said, and he'd been sincere. He hopes you know.
He never intended for it to come to what it had. He'd kissed you and held you and you felt so much relief. Maybe it was selfish of you, to press and press and press. You wanted him, but at the end of it all, he was never yours. He belonged to another girl, to another life. Maybe if things were different- maybe if you'd met him first or he left her on mutual terms.. maybe, none of this would have happened.
"Spider-Man down! Everyone is in shock, Queens own hero was last seen falling from a skyscraper.."
People were screaming, some were crying. The sound of reporters buzzing surrounded you as you ran to find him. You remember how your lungs burned and how your legs felt like they might fall off. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, but at the same time it had felt like it had simply vanished. You shoved past crowds, gaining strength you didn't know you had. You tore through that yellow tape, dashing into the debris despite the screaming officers behind you. Iron-Man and some others were still around, shouting to you to go, but you couldn't. You saw how he fell.. where he fell..
You found him on the ground, a disgusting dark puddle surrounding his head and shoulders. There were tiny bits and pieces of something mushy surrounding him, but you refused to let yourself identify them. His limbs were twisted in unnatural ways and he was gurgling slightly. His suit was torn, showing off more, less fatal, injuries. His accelerated healing kept him alive- anyone else would've been long gone. However, Spider-Man couldn't escape this, the healing wasn't fast enough.
You shakily reached for his mask, but he stopped you with what strength he could muster.
"Don't.. it's...no.."
"You promised..", you say, feeling a lump rise in your throat, "You promised, Peter.."
He coughs, "M'...s-sorry..but I... I see her..", he starts to choke again, his mask trapping the blood dribbling out of his nose and mouth, "I see them.."
"Peter! You promised! Peter- don't leave me! Please! I'm sorry I pushed so much, I'm sorry! I only wanted.. I just..please.."
What did you want? What was it? You knew him- but did you really? Did you when you ignored the way he sobbed quietly next to you every night he slept with you? When you turned away and tuned him out every time he tried to set you free? When you clung to a tired and broken man for all this time? Did you really know him? Did you really love him?
Or did you assume he'd bounce back to who you thought he was- to the bright happy man you saw in that diner that one night? To the man his Aunt described him as- the one she hoped you'd find and bring out of him.
"Sorry..", he gurgles one last time, leaving you there alone in the mess you let fester.
Dark hair, dark brown eyes. Both matching- yet no man ever met the criteria you were looking for. You tried and tried- but you never got what you wanted- what you craved. You just left more empty souls in your wake. You blame yourself-
He blames himself..
"Iɴ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ᴀ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɴᴇᴘʜᴇᴡ, ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴏ. Nᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛ."
"Iɴ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ sᴏᴜʟ. I'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ I ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.."
"Welcome home, Peter. We've been waiting for you."