CHAPTER ONE: GOODBYE

NOVEMBER

PETER POV

Contrary to what you might think, I don't hate hospitals. People usually associate hospitals with terrible things that have happened to them and/or their loved ones throughout their lives. But my parents died in a plane crash; my uncle was shot and died in my arms; and although I get injured a lot, I can't go to the hospital, for obvious reasons. Even before I started moonlighting as a vigilante, I never had broken bone as a child or had to get my appendix out or anything like that.

So yeah, hospitals and I don't interact often. Nevertheless, that's where this story begins.

It was only a three weeks ago when Aunt May told me, but apparently she'd known for months. Cancer. She opted out of treatment because since it was in such a late stage, the chances of going through the torture of chemotherapy would only give her a fraction of a percentage that she might get a couple more months. And Aunt May has never one to drag things out unnecessarily. The night she told me, she cooked me all my favorites for dinner, but I was late. Two hours late to be exact, caught up with goblin-related things.

"Sorry I'm late Aunt May! But look I got the milk!" As I round the corner I see the table packed with mac and cheese, pancakes, orange soda, and watermelon (though that looked sort of brown because it's not the season). I slow down and put the milk on the counter. "What's all this?"

She's sitting at the table and sets down a book she was reading as she waited patiently for me. Smiling, she motions for me to sit, and I do. "I haven't made you pancakes for dinner a while, now have I?" She smiles, "And thank you for the milk, you're such a good boy".

I frown, something seems off. "Is everything ok, Aunt May?" I ask, shoving an entire pancake in my mouth.

"Smaller bites please Peter," I shrug as I swallow and she chuckles. "Oh well, I guess it is time that I told you…"

She was always thinking of me: making all my favorite foods, waiting to tell me to protect me from the truth. And how have I repaid her? I lie to her constantly, I'm always home late and worrying her, and now I don't even have enough money to buy flowers for her bedside. She's in so much pain, I can tell, even though she won't show it. It's really bad now, she can't get up from the hospital bed or eat without me helping her. Every breath sounds strained. Today, the doctor told me that he doesn't think she'll make it through the night.

We sit quietly, my hand on top of hers.

"Peter," she whispers. My head snaps up immediately, giving her all my attention.

"Yes, Aunt May?"

"I think that it's going to be time soon," she says, not looking sad or angry at all.

My hand tightens around hers, "Please don't say that."

The edges of her lips curl, "It's ok sweetie, I'm going to be with Ben… and your parents." She sees me flinch, "I think of you as my own son, and I hope that I've been the mother to you that Mary would have wanted—"

"You are Aunt May!" I reassure her.

"I'm so proud of the young man you've turned into . Your smart, kind, and generous, and I'm going to tell everybody all about it when I get to Heaven." We were never religious, but I think she says this to make less upset. I can't help but frown, she thinks so highly of me even though I lie and disappoint her time and time again. Aunt May looks deeply at my expression. "Oh Peter, I know that you think everything is always your fault, but you don't have to carry all these burdens. It's ok to just move on."

I nod, but have my eyes pointed at the ground, not able to look at her any longer.

"This is just my time, please don't blame yourself. You can't save everyone… Spidey."

My head whips up and my eyes widen.

"What— ? How— ?" She's smirking, but there is an exhausted look in eyes that urge me to take a gently tone. "I… I'm sorry. I never meant—"

She holds up a hand, "Peter, I love you."

I choke back a sob, unsure why I'm not quite able to shed real tears. "I love you too, Aunt May."

It's 11 PM. I walk through Forest Hills slowly. It's cold, but I decided to walk all the way home. No subway, no taxi, no web swinging. Maybe I'm not thinking straight, but I stepped out of the hospital and couldn't do anything but put one foot in front of the other… for two hours until I found myself in front our house.

I stand outside the front door, key in hand. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket and pull it out to see the screen illuminated with Gwen's face. I pick up but don't say anything.

"Peter? Are you there?"

"Yeah I'm here."

"Are you okay? How's May?"

I twiddle the house key in my hand, contemplating putting it in the lock. "She died."

I hear her sniffle on the end, "Oh my god, Peter I'm so sorry. Please, come stay at my place tonight."

I pocket the key, delaying the inevitable, and turn around. "Okay, I'm on my way."

YO! I'm back writing a story after 3 years. Just an idea that I wanted to play with. Leave me a comment if you remember me from back then or have read my other stories that I wrote back when I was in high school (now I'm college). Thanks for reading.