PETER PARKER

He lay motionless in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as countless thoughts raced through his head. He hadn’t left his room in three days. Three days ago, everything had changed. Aunt May and Tony had both died on the same day, leaving Peter feeling like the two people who had always been there for him had suddenly been ripped away.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut, and the only sound was the occasional quiet sniffle beneath the covers. He barely ate, barely slept, and hardly spoke to anyone. Every time he closed his eyes, memories of them came rushing back. He missed May’s voice, her warmth, the way she always made him feel like everything would be okay. He missed Tony too, even if he never really knew how to say it.

Peter had always been Spider-Man. An Avenger. Someone everyone expected to keep fighting no matter what happened. But right now, he didn’t feel like a hero. He just felt like a kid who had lost the two people he loved most, lying alone in the dark with no idea how he was supposed to move forward.

“Peter?” you voice called softly from the other side.

“Can I come in?”