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Peter felt it immediately. The all too familiar feeling of his Spidey Senses (read: Peter Tingle) going crazy. He’d been on his way home from school when, suddenly, all the hairs on his neck stood on end, warning him about something. And something was definitely wrong. Like, really wrong. He felt weird, like his whole body was shaking. If Peter didn’t know better, he would’ve thought it was yet another panic attack. He’d been having those ever since waking up after the snap and realizing that five years had passed by. But Peter did know better and this just felt different from a panic attack.
He picked up his pace and reached his apartment in record time. If something was happening, he would need his suit and web shooters, though he could’ve sworn he’d packed his suit that morning. And he almost never went anywhere without his web shooters. Maybe he’d just forgotten. He had had a pretty rushed morning after all.
He hurried through the door and made a beeline for his room, the boy coming to an abrupt halt when he looked inside. What was supposed to be his room now looked like any other guest room. There was a bed with a simple bedding, an empty desk by the window, and a closet that looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages. There was no sign of the big Star Wars poster Peter had hanging over his bed, nor was there any sign of his science books, his clothes (Peter knew for sure he’d left some clothes lying on the floor that morning) or his Iron Spider suit which had been charging in the left corner of the room.
He walked towards the old, worn closet, hesitating a bit before opening it carefully. It was empty. Like, complete and utter empty. Like, there was nothing besides the dust, indicating that nothing had been in there for a long time. Peter went to look under his bed, in the desk drawer, on top of the closet, everywhere. There was nothing. No sign at all that a teenager was living there. The boy felt confused. He was trying really hard not to panic as he walked out of his (?) room and into the living room.
It looked normal, though something still felt off. It took Peter a few moments to figure out what exactly was wrong. But when he did, a knot formed in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe properly. It was the photos. Framed photos were scattered all around the living room, but something was missing. Someone.
He reached for one of the photos placed on the coffee table, studying it carefully. It was a photo he’d looked at a hundred times and therefore he also immediately realized what was wrong. Peter knew it was a photo of his ten-year-old self dressed up as Luke Skywalker for Halloween, but there was no one in the frame. And it was the same on all the other photos as well. Peter looked at the smiling faces of his aunt and uncle, knowing that he was also supposed to be in that photo. But he was just gone.
Peter was missing from all the photos like he’d never even existed. And his room looked like he’d never lived there at all. What was going on? If this was some kind of sick prank, Peter sure as hell didn’t think it was funny. He tried his best not to be consumed by the growing panic in his stomach. He needed to focus; needed to think.
May. He needed to call May. She would definitely know what was going on, and if not, they’d figure it out together. He tugged his phone out of his pocket, immediately dialing May’s number. It rang three times before she picked up.
Peter took a deep breath before asking with a shaking voice, “May?”
“Yes, this is May Parker. I’m sorry, who is this?”
Peter felt his whole body freeze, dread filling his stomach. “It’s Peter.”
There was silence on the other end, the only sound being May’s quiet hum as if she was trying to remember something.
“Peter Johnson? The guy in the telephone shop?” she asked after a little while.
Peter’s breath hitched, his hands starting to shake. He suddenly felt really cold.
“N—, No. It’s P—, Peter Parker. Your… nephew.”
May laughed dryly, completely oblivious to Peter’s pain. “Very funny. Is this one of those lame prank calls? I definitely don’t have a nephew.”
Peter didn’t know what to do. What was happening? Why was his room empty of all his stuff, and why was he missing from all the family photos? And why didn’t his aunt know who he was?
“I—, I—, you don’t—, you don’t remember me?” his voice was nothing but a whisper.
“No. Should I?”
Yes, Peter thought, but he didn’t say anything out loud. His aunt didn’t remember him. It was like he’d just been wiped out of existence.
“I’m sorry, but I’m actually at work right now, so you just have a good day.”
And then, Peter was left in silence. He almost felt like he was back on Titan, minutes away from fading to dust. Except this time, he was alone. He wished he could call Mister Stark. He would be able to figure out what was going on; he would be able to help. But Peter couldn’t call him, because Mister Stark was dead. He wasn’t coming back no matter how much the boy wished for him to. Instead, Peter decided to try and call Happy.
“Who’s this?” the voice was gruff and sounded almost bored, but that was just Happy. Peter prayed to whoever out there that the man would know who he was.
“Happy? I—, it’s me. Peter.”
“Peter?”
Peter’s heart quickened its pace. Maybe, just maybe, Happy still remembered him.
“Yeah, it’s P—, Peter Parker.”
“I don’t know any Peter Parker. What do you want?”
Peter’s hope was instantly crushed. The world around him started spinning, and he quickly made his way to the couch.
“I—, I don’t understand,” the boy choked out, eyes filling with unshed tears.
“Me neither. Listen, kid, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this.”
The phone went silent once again. Peter was frozen in his seat, body shaking and tears finally falling down his cheeks. He cried, because he felt completely alone. Because no one knew who he was. And because he was scared. His head was pounding, and his Spidey Senses were screaming at him; just like on Titan. Was it all happening all over again? Had Thanos found some impossible way to get back? Had Mister Stark died for nothing?
Instantly, Peter was on his feet, running out of the apartment and onto the street. He needed to know if he was the only one feeling this way. Needed to know if half the universe was fading away, turning to dust. Again. But outside, everything seemed normal. There was no dust, and everyone looked calm, doing whatever they had to do in their everyday lives. So, why was Peter feeling this way? Why was his head pounding and why wouldn’t the world stop spinning? Peter’s eyes landed on an elderly lady further down the street. She looked nice, and the boy was thinking about asking her for help, but at that moment, black dots appeared in front of his eyes, and before he could even take one step in the lady’s direction, Peter’s legs gave in. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.
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Peter was flying. It was so bright and nice, and he just felt so calm. Like nothing would ever stand in his way. And there was a voice. A familiar voice. A voice Peter hadn’t heard in a long, long time. And most importantly; a voice Peter had missed terribly.
He followed the voice.
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“Underoos?”
“Hey, Pete.”
“Naptime is over now, kiddo.”
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Peter’s eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the bright light. He was lying in a soft bed with a science themed bedding. It was his bed, Peter was sure, but the room was different from his own. Besides the bed, the room was completely empty. The walls were painted white, and bright sunlight was streaming in through the window to the right. It looked like there was some kind of beach outside, but it wasn’t that which caught Peter’s attention. It was the man stood at the window, staring out at the sea.
“M—, Mister Stark?” Peter couldn’t believe his own eyes. He didn’t dare believe it. Mister Stark was dead. Peter had seen him die; he’d heard his heart stop beating.
“Hey, kid.” Mister Stark smiled, taking a few steps towards the bed.
Peter sat up quickly and pressed his back up against the headboard. “No, y—, you died! Y—, you… you—”
“Peter, hey. Easy, kiddo,” Mister Stark said, as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed, a hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”
Peter felt his eyes burn, but he really didn’t care. Mister Stark was there. Right in front of him. Peter threw his arms around the man’s neck and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. He kind of expected the man to retract awkwardly almost like he’d done in the car after Peter's first mission. That felt like a lifetime ago. Instead, though, Mister Stark just wrapped his arms around the boy and squeezed him in a tight hug. Peter felt tears running down his cheeks and sniffed quietly.
“I missed you.” His voice wasn’t above a whisper, almost embarrassed. But he needed the man to know.
Mister Stark smiled into the kid’s curls and whispered, “Missed you too, Underoos.”
They sat like that for a few more moments until Peter realized what exactly he was wearing. He pulled away from the embrace and stared at his pants, eyes comically large.
“Why am I wearing this?” he asked, his voice high-pitched and embarrassed as he looked at the pink Hello Kitty pajama pants. It was the exact same outfit Peter had been wearing right after Mister Stark had taken his suit. Said man raised his hands as if to show his innocence.
“Don’t ask me. It's probably because you just really love that outfit.”
It's because it reminds me of you, Peter thought, but he would never say that out loud, so instead he just let out a mock laugh and said, “Yeah, because I just happen to love Hello Kitty themed pants and an oversized tourist t-shirt.”
Mister Stark just shrugged, a soft smile on his face. They fell into a comfortable silence until Peter suddenly remembered what had happened before he got there. Wherever there was.
“Mister Stark, th—, they didn’t remember me.”
The man’s eyes went from happy to sad in an instance. He pulled the kid into his side and let out a long sigh. “I know, Pete.”
“And it wasn’t just May and Happy. It almost felt like I wasn’t there. Like I had been… wiped out of existence.” Peter leaned his head on the man’s shoulder, trying to hold back tears once again. “Why didn’t anyone remember me?”
Mister Stark placed his hand on the kid’s shoulder and looked into his wet, doe eyes. “Because they are stupid, Pete. It’s all so stupid.” Peter raised his eyebrows in a question, but he kept quiet and let the man speak.
“They don’t remember you right now, but they will. And when they do, they’ll realize just how big a mistake they’ve made. You’re better than them, Pete, and they don’t deserve you. They’ll realize that. One day.”
Peter felt confused. He wasn’t sure what exactly Mister Stark was talking about, but he trusted the man with his life. And Mister Stark was there right in front of him; breathing; alive. And he remembered.