It would be wrong if I didn't start this imagine without thanking Stan Lee for the wonderful characters he created and brought into this world. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have made the friends I have now because of this account. I wouldn't have such a desire for writing. Every cameo he had brought a smile onto my face and every character he created became my hero when I was at a young age, sitting on the basement steps reading my dad's Marvel comics.

It's a sad loss today for Stan's family, friends, coworkers, and fans, but he still lived a long and full life. He left a legacy on this world that will live on forever and ever. 

Thank you, Stan Lee. Thank you for making characters that made me feel not so alone. Thank you for making strange, weird characters that are celebrated for their differences. Thank you.

This is something small I put together just because I need to get something out there. Sadly, I started running a fever right after class and haven't felt better since. Plus this is another imagine dealing with grief (I had already written before the news of Stan's passing) and I might as well post it today.

I announced it a little while ago, but the Titanic Retelling that was going to be released to those that were told they were being sent the sneak peek has been delayed because of my sudden fever. I will make sure to send the first chapter tomorrow night and then Wednesday morning I will release the soundtrack & the first chapter to everyone.

Thank you all for understanding.

///

"Hey, have you seen ___?"

Ned looked up from his phone as Peter leaned over the desk, his backpack and jacket still on. "Uh... no? Why?"

Peter sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and walked to his seat, which was in the row next to Ned's. He took his backpack off and dropped it to the floor.

"Pete, what's going on?" he asked. 

"___ had a rough night last night is all," he said, shaking his head. "Because of... you know."

"Oh. Yeah." 

"Yeah." The bell rang, and at the same time, you rushed in, looking like a mess. Peter stood up and held out a hand, helping catch your books as they slipped out of your arms and onto the floor. Flash turned around in his desk. 

"Oooh..." he taunted. You ignored him, Peter flashed his a look at him - annoyed.

If he had any idea what you'd been dealing with...

Peter put all of your things on your desk and when you sat down, he slipped into his desk (the one behind yours) and then tapped your shoulder. You turned your head and pushed your messy, unbrushed hair from your face, tucking it behind your ears. 

"What?" you whispered. Your teacher was taking attendance. 

"Did you eat?" he asked. "Breakfast?"

"No," you said, almost shamefully. 

He nodded and reached into his bag. He pulled out a pack of PopTarts - your favorite flavor - and then a bottle of juice. He handed them to you. 

"You're bringing food for her now?" Flash mocked. "Jeez, what is she giving you in return for all this free food, Parker?" 

"Stop, Flash," Peter warned. 

Flash snickered and whispered something to Cindy, who rolled her eyes. 

You quietly opened your PopTarts and took a couple of bites. 

"Okay everyone, pass up your homework," your teacher said. "Come on, come on, come on, I don't have all day, class!"

You turned around and looked at Peter. "We had homework?"

"Yeah," he said. "You didn't do it?"

Your eyes filled with tears. "No, I-I didn't-"

"Well it's okay!" He was quick to reassure you. "It's fine, I'm sure she'll give you another day to-"

"Why would she? It's not like they passed away yesterday, it's been years!" Your hands were shaking.

"Relax, okay? This isn't the end of the world-"

"Gosh, Peter-" You turned away from him.

"Whoa, everyone," Flash decided to announce, "___'s crying!" He pointed at you and laughed. "Parker, what'd you do to her?"

"Knock it off!" Peter half shouted.

"I mean, it's pathetic, right?" Flash asked his friends.

You couldn't take anymore. You got up and left, leaving all of your stuff. Your teacher called your name - not like she cared, more like she was reminding you that you weren't allowed to leave. You still ran away.

"Jeez," Flash continued, and Peter stood up.

"I said shut up, Flash! You have no idea what she's been through." He grabbed his bag, grabbed your things, and left the classroom, too.

He chased you down the hallway and stopped you before you were able to turn into the women's bathroom. "Stop, stop, stop," he said, pulling you back. "Hey. I know you don't want to be alone right now."

You wiped your eyes. "How do you know that?" you asked as a whine.

"I know you, ___," he said, pulling you with him. He sat with you on the floor, his back pressed against the sets of lockers. The hallway was empty and quiet. "I know you hate being alone."

"I'm alone so much," you breathed, putting your face in your hands. "I don't know what to do."

"You're not alone anymore, okay?" He grabbed your hand. "I'm gonna take care of you. You know that."

You nodded, but your face was twisting up with sadness. You pressed the heel of your hand to your nose. "And Flash in there, just..."

"Flash is an idiot, okay? He just wants attention, and when no one will give it to him, he'll get bored. It'll be okay," he said. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close. You leaned your head against his chest and he lifted his other hand, letting you intertwine your fingers with his. 

"You're always saving lives, Spider-Man," you murmured. 

He laughed softly. "Not always."

"You've saved mine," you said, "so many times."

"I'll always save your life," he said, "I promise you." He turned his head and pressed his lips to your forehead. "And if that includes me beating Flash up or humiliating him before the end of the day, so be it."

You laughed a little, which was exactly what he wanted.

"Want me to?" he asked. 

"Hm... maybe," you said. "I haven't decided yet."

"Well, let me know if you want me to. I'll be right here. All day." He kissed your forehead again and just let you sit there with him.

"What would I do without you, Peter Parker?"