When Peter didn't show up at school on Monday, you were concerned. He'd never miss school, unless you guys were all going on a mission with the Avengers or if he was deathly sick. But he didn't give you any notification or signal, no text, no call to tell you why he wasn't here.
So when he didn't show up on Tuesday or Wednesday, this got you to panic. "Ned? Ned!" you called out, waving him over.
"Yeah, what's up?'
"Do you know where Peter is? I haven't seen him all week."
"No...he never called me...did he call you?"
"No, he didn't. Did MJ say anything?"
"Well, she told me that she didn't get anything from him either. I just came back from asking her."
"Oh," you said quietly, looking down at the ground. "Well...see you at lunch."
"See you," he waved, walking off. You sighed and looked around, hoping that he'd come back soon.
-----
It was really long and boring to wait for the clock to strike 3 p.m. You zoned out in half your classes and didn't eat anything during lunch, still worried about Peter's whereabouts. You barely paid any attention to your surroundings, and neither did Ned or Mj. All of you were kind of just, well, zoned out.
Maybe he was sick?
Maybe.
But hopefully not.
You waited outside on the curb until Happy pulled up in the black sports car. "How was school?" he asked.
"Fine, but Peter didn't show up today, again," you replied. "Do you have any clue on what's going on?"
"Sorry, kid, but no. Tony has been trying to get in contact with him as well, but he wouldn't pick up the phone."
"Oh, alright."
With that, you headed back to the Avengers compound, pulling into the driveway within twenty minutes. Again, you asked everyone the same question: where Peter was. All of them answered either "I don't know" or "Where is he?" or "I literally have no clue. I stay inside all day and don't bother with the outside world" (That last response was Vision, who preferred to lounge around and eat all the desserts).
Dinner came, so did the evening training session, and you were restless. Everyone was asking everyone about where he was, but nobody could successfully contact him, because his phone went straight to voicemail every time.
Convincing yourself that he'd be fine and that he'd come back within the next day, you continued on with punching the punching bag in front of you. You let out all your frustration into it with so much force that it explodes, the sand inside spilling out onto the ground.
Pietro zooms in with a broom and a brushpan, sweeping the mess up within seconds. "Thanks," you thanked him.
"No prob." He zooms away, broom and brushpan still in hand, along with a tiny trash can.
Later that night, you're having trouble doing homework, and falling asleep. Thoughts of Peter keep invading your mind, causing you to stay awake and not be able to close your eyes for longer than ten seconds.
So you get up and head to the living room, sitting down on the couch and turning the TV on, flipping channels when bright, flashing letters interrupt you:
BREAKING NEWS: DRIVE-BY ON 52ND, 2 KILLED, 5 INJURED
The reporter begins to explain what happened, and as she starts talking you hear wailing sirens, ambulances with paramedics loading people onto stretchers, but the worst part is, you can literally see every little detail, the blood and gore and everything, causing you to gag and turn your head away.
Then you see Peter, in his Spider-Man suit, kneeling on the ground next to a man, which you make out to be his uncle Ben.
Oh god, no.
So he was sneaking out on missions without telling anyone.
His mask is on, but you could easily tell that he was crying, as he reached a hand out to touch his uncle's forehead.
Tears stream down your face as you watch the horrific sight on the screen in front of you.
The reporter turns to Peter, holding a mic beneath his chin as she's about to ask him a question, but he shakes his head, turning back to his uncle and whispering a final goodbye as his body is also put onto a stretcher and carried away.
Twenty minutes later, you hear a soft knock on the door. Your gut told you that Peter was here, so you wiped your eyes with the hem of your shirt so he wouldn't be able to tell that you were crying. You knew that every time you even shed a single tear, he'd go nuts and feel even worse about it, crying around him wasn't an option.
You open the door to see Peter there, his mask crumpled up in his right hand. His normally perfect, angelic face was streaked with tears and dust, and you have to watch in agony as his bottom lip begins to quiver, him trying his best to hold it all back.
"I-I wasn't fast enough...I couldn't save him..." he says, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence. "I was too late. I didn't make it in time. and now...he's fucking dead. Hold me, please..."
Letting out a choked sob, you open your arms and let him run into them, falling into you and sobbing into your shoulder, his entire body shaking violently as you clutch onto the soft fabric of his suit, his tears staining your sweatshirt with dark spots. "It's my fault...if I was just a minute earlier, maybe I could've saved him...stopped him from getting..."
"Shh...it's not your fault. It's not your fault. You were a hero out there! You saved all those other people, and you know that you tried your hardest to make it to him in time. Don't blame yourself. Stop beating yourself up for the events of something you can't control. Peter, please don't cry," you beg him, seating him on the couch with you. "It'll be alright. I'm right here."
Peter looked up at you with so much pain in his eyes that it made your heart break into a million pieces. "He's dead..." he whispered. "He's dead..." He buries his head back into your neck and holds you tight.
He didn't deserve this.
Ben was like a second father to you, ever since your dad left when you were a baby, you were fatherless and had no one to support you because your mom was always so busy. You and Peter were really close to him, and now, to see that he was gone, forever, was almost unbelievable.
You pull his head into your lap and rub soothing circles on his back, hoping and trying your best to calm him down.
You couldn't even imagine how he felt if your heart was already hurting this much, as if it was going to explode from so much emotion building up inside.
Dead.
No longer alive.
You both fall asleep on the couch together, holding each other as if the world was going to end if you let go.
-----
Breaking the news to the rest of the team wasn't an easy feat. One by one, their happy expressions turned grief-stricken as you told them the news, Peter breaking down into tears again as he was pulled into Tony's arms.
"I know, son, I know," Tony murmurs. "It's hard. It hurts at first, but the only cure is time. All you can do right now is wait."
"I miss him so much," Peter sobs. "What if I was a minute earlier...would he still be alive..."
"No no no no no. Do not blame yourself," he stopped him, repeating what you'd told him last night. "You did your best. Death is inevitable, and there is nothing you can do to avoid it."
"Mr. Stark, I miss him so much..."
"I know, I know. We all do."
Pepper walks over and places a hand on Peter's cheek. "Peter? Can you do me a favor and eat some breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, sliding into his seat and putting his head on the table.
"You need to eat, or your condition will get worse," she warned. "Just eat a bit."
He reluctantly took a few bites of his toast before trudging off to his room, flopping onto his bed.
"I'm worried about him, Tony," you say.
"Is that why he hasn't been at school lately?" he answers.
"Apparently, but the whole shooting thing happened yesterday," you explain, swallowing hard. "He's been sneaking off to missions during the school day."
"Did Aunt May contact you about the funeral?"
"Yeah, actually," you pull out your phone and show him your texts. "It's in about ten days."
"I'm sorry. I know this is hard on you too, Y/N," he apologizes.
"Yeah," you sigh again for what feels like the millionth time, "Peter and I were practically joined at the hip when we were younger, and because my dad was never there, Ben would take us everywhere and he basically became my dad, I guess."
You could say that there was one thing people had in common: it wasn't that they were weak, but because they'd stayed strong for too long.