Just by reading the title, the fluff has melted into a monster called angst. Ahh, yes. Pre-USM events will play through this oneshot, so bare with me--!

Also, this will be a little longer than usual because I have to go on a little trip (which sadly means no phone to write-- ;w;), so I hope this could compensate for the sudden disappearance and possible drop in uploads.

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Peter had only just finished his nightly patrol of the city. A bank robbery followed by a house burning down. He wasn't able to save everyone. Perched onto a building, replacing a gargoyle that had yet to be replaced, Peter attempted some excuse to cancel a sleepover with Harry, but Aunt May would be suspicious as to why the boy cancelled a plan he was itching for all week.

It was a dreary night, rain pouring from the darkened skies as the roads populated themselves with an assortment of coloured umbrellas are vehicles. He could spot the occasional speeder, but he was sure the NYCPD could handle the smaller crimes like that.

He wasn't supposed to be here anyway.

Despite the Big Apple looking so colourful down below him, Peter found that the world had lost its colour. The hustle and bustle of the city had faded to white noise, a deafening ring in his ears as he recalled attempting to save everyone from the burning building.

He nearly laughed. How pathetic: he couldn't save them all. There was just an innocent schoolboy caught in the crossfire, shot in the head all because Peter couldn't shoot a web fast enough. And three children who died within the inferno. The worse punishment for any parent would be to bury their child, or what's left of them anyway. That guilt felt like a weight suffocating him, wrapping its arms around his throat and squeezing whatever will to live he had.

Despite the city being blanketed in a cover of darkness, New York still shined as bright as a star in the sky. Despite it being a little past a time where families come to meet for dinner or a time where children should be in bed, the city was still alive with the honking of any vehicle and the busy chatter of people running by. Occasionally, the odd police siren would begin to run along his ears.

He was snapped back into the cold reality when his phone started to vibrate in the pocket (well, not really) of his suit, the rain pelted daggers onto his back and head as he checked the ringing device with an almost annoyingly loud ring tone. He looked at the Caller ID, recognising that it was just Harry calling. He answered the call, waiting for the caller to speak.

"Yo, Pete," Harry's voice rang over from the other line, almost audibly dripping with worry, "do you need a ride? Where are you? MJ and I've been waiting for the past half an hour."

Peter nearly chuckled at Harry's concern. He almost felt as if he didn't deserve it. "I'm excited for tonight, Harry," he answered, "just a little held up in the rain."

There was a short beat before another familiar voice answered. "Well, get here, the pizza's almost gone," MJ's voice responded, answering with hidden concern.

"Pizza's almost gone? Save some for me!" Peter replied in a faux jokey tone before hanging up. It was about time he brushed his guilt away; it wasn't a good time for that.

He sighed a little, taking a deep breath before getting up from the ledge he set himself by. Turning around, he leaned back and started to fall. The feeling of wind brushing past Peter's body, attempting to stop him from falling too fast, was one that he had always enjoyed; it reminded him that even if the air wasn't sentient, it did help, or attempt to anyway.

Before he could hit the ground, Peter shot a web toward one of the buildings and let the momentum he gathered propel him from the height, letting him travel upward and defy gravity. It wasn't flying, but it was close enough. Peter swung past the civilians below, brushing past the citizens and narrowly bumping into them as he continued to swing from building to building.

Eventually, he reached the Oscorp building, finding a backpack webbed to the wall of an alleyway where he had left it in case he ever needed some spare change (and a good lecture by Aunt May about losing backpacks). The contents were usually just a spare change of clothes and web fluid, but they were helpful.

Taking the change of clothes out of his backpack, he headed down to a more sheltered area of the alleyway he stuck his bag onto, changing into his clothes before concealing his web shooters and attempting to walk in as if he hadn't just got beaten down by criminals and almost got burnt alive trying to save civilians from a burning building.

He was lucky he was wearing one of his baggy sweatshirts, it easily concealed the bruises and wounds that would otherwise be easy to spot in his usual attire.

He walked into the building and up to the highest floor, the penthouse area where the Osborn family usually rescided. Entering the large room through the stair well (the one thing that made Peter's day even worse was that the elevator had broken. Something to do with someone chucking a cucumber toward the buttons so hard that they broke? Even the lingering employees had sounded confused), he found MJ and Harry immediately jump at him when his phone vibrated in the large room.

Their heads cocked toward the boy, and they immediately ran toward Peter. Harry immediately embraced the other in a worried hug while MJ just asked whether he was all right, also concerned over the well being of one of her best friends, to which Peter only answered that he was all right, saying just got caught up in sidewalk traffic (a really bad excuse that the two somehow bought).

It hurt to lie to his friends this way when he could remember the faces of hopeful families when Peter had to break the truth to them.

"You couldn't save them all~" the voice of one of the fire victims snickered into his ear. He heard them talk before, and their voices remained a guilty reminder of not being able to rescue those civilians. He shook the thought away, letting himself get (or watch Harry try) dragged onto the couch. Setting himself down next to Harry, several still half warm boxes of pizza set on the table by the couch with a movie still playing in the background.

Of course, it looked to be another horror movie. With a reduced budget, which made the jumpscares even more comical than scary. A small experience that Harry decided to invite MJ to this time.

In the middle of the movie, when things have died down slightly and the detectives are left to talk about the elusive murderer going around and killing children for stealing candy, Peter only noticed that MJ passed out. From boredom, as the movie really was starting to get boring. Harry was still awake, fighting to stay conscious and finish the movie.

Not paying attention, a stupidly loud sound had played, causing MJ to jolt awake and for Harry to almost drop the slice of pizza he was lazily eating. Peter nearly jumped out of his seat and nearly stuck to the ceiling, which would have been a bad move.

After that little scare, the trio laughed over the situation before unanimously agreeing to just knock off and sleep for the night. Switching the movie off, the three walked up to Harry's bedroom. The three were able to position themselves in such a way that they could fit on the king sized bed. Peter was placed in the center of the bed, MJ and Harry surrounding him with a limb hanging off the side.

Eventually, Peter let himself give into sleep.

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The bell was blaring. Peter swung by the bank where several thieves had almost finished the job, attempting to escape the punishment for their crimes. Carrying a large bag of money in their arm, a thief had exited the building with their bounty of money in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Landing in front of the goon, he prepared to take them down. The police should arrive the minute he got him captured.

Expecting him to take a shot at the spider, the thief did something unexpected, turning toward the busy crowds behind the commotion, and targeting someone. Peter only realised what he was doing, but only before it was too late.

The web from his hand wasn't fast enough, and he couldn't jerk the thief's hand fast enough to have him shoot the air or wall. Instead, he watched the bullet travel toward a schoolboy. It pierced the boy's chest, causing him to stagger back and land on the ground in a pile of his own blood.

The mother of this child panicked and screamed, causing the people from behind the entire scene panic more. Peter froze, before immediately taking the thief down, shooting a web toward the pistol and yanking it away before kicking them toward a lamp post and webbing them onto the pole.

He immediately rushed to the boy, his mother trying to wake him up despite her fruitless attempts. His heart began to ache as she watched the life drain out of her son, only making Peter hate the situation even more.

He nearly wanted to scream, and was unsure of what he could do. The voice in his head cursed him, screaming bloody murder and silencing the panic from the outside world. Without a second thought, he whispered a dejected and broken apology to both the boy and his mother. He shot another web, and felt forced to leave, knowing that another second there and he would have ended himself immediately.

He swung by the skyscrapers, his ears almost immediately picking up the screams of several civilians from down below. Immediately, Peter followed the sound of the screaming, spotting a large building burning down in an inferno. Peter landed in front of the crowd, asking one of the civilians who may still be in there.

"My children are in there!" he replied, "my neighbour's daughter couldn't escape!"

"My grandmother's still inside!" Another voice called out. Peter couldn't hear all of the crowd's talk over one another, only adding on another weight of pressure pressed down on Peter, but he immediately sprung into action, going from floor to floor and calling out for anyone who may still be in the burning building.

He was able to save a man's grandmother, another mother's daughter and a woman's wife. He was tired at this point, but knew that there were more people to be saved. The children of several families, who were at the highest floor. With all the burning debris, Peter was almost afraid that he wouldn't make it in time. He did, however, the damage in the highest floor the worst.

He called out for any signs of life, looking around to see a small group of kids (consisting of what looked to be an older sister holding a baby a hand and keeping another boy close to herself. Peter called out and reached toward them, but a loud bang had interrupted his line of speech, blowing him out of the building and causing him to crash into another, denting the wall behind him.

He inmediately scrambled up to see how severe the damage to the apartment building may be, but it wouldn't take a fool to know that those children were long gone.

He... couldn't save everyone.

Their blood... was on his hands.

All because he wasn't fast enough.

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Peter's eyes shot open, and he looked around the darkened room. He tried to stay silent enough to make sure he didn't wake MJ and Harry, but moved off the bed and quietly walked out of the bedroom, trying to find a source of fresh air.

He made it out to a balcony, taking in breaths of fresh air, unlike the bouts of smoke he had inhaled in that burning apartment. He knew that if it hadn't started raining, the smell would stick to him like the guilt had so expertly done, weighing the boy down more than he liked.

Even now, it was still raining. He was getting drenched, but it (in a way) elevated some of the pressure off. It was like the rain was beating him down to teach him how to raise himself up.

"You should have saved us," one of the voices whispered again. He only sunk deeper into his hands, his posture only lowering the more he thought over the situation.

"Your blood is on our hands," another voice eerily spoke, their voice like a haunting melody to his ears. Smooth and childlike with the lack of its innocence. This is how a horror movie would begin.

"Why couldn't I see my family anymore? Oh, right; all because you couldn't get to us fast enough," his face tried to hide what a punch to the gut that was, warm tears starting to escape his eyes. He almost didn't notice since it was raining.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed someone walking in behind him. He wouldn't have cared if someone had attempted to push him off this building. It would make up for the lives he was unable to save. Wiping away his tears, he listened for anyone to speak.

"Hey," MJ's voice gently called from behind. He knew MJ was standing behind him, and quite closely too. He wondered over whether she was carrying an umbrella or if decided to be exposed to the rain like he was. Either way, he would still be drenched.

Wordlessly, Peter moved aside to let MJ settle next to him, watching her move forward and set herself next to him, her arms dangling off the surface of the railings as she leaned forward. They both exchanged comfortable silences, both not necessarily fond of small talk when things feel too awkward. One of those moments were now.

"Is Harry still sleeping?" Peter suddenly asked, his tone so tired it almost made him wince. MJ didn't seem to note it, and even if she did, she hadn't said anything. She only answered with a hum that sounded like a yes.

"Why aren't you?" she asked, turning to meet his eyes. He couldn't think of a real answer that wouldn't blow his cover. It was only a year since he became Spider Man, and to be completely honest, he really wasn't ready to have his cover blown this way.

"Just... had a rough day," he answered, leaving the response as vague as he could manage. Just to make sure MJ wouldn't suspect anything else. He really wouldn't want to blow his cover this way.

"Well, we all do, you aren't alone in this," MJ responded, almost causing Peter to chuckle at how he wished that were really true, "even if you were, you have Harry and I to be there for you."

He should have been there for them, too. He couldn't pull any more of those disappearing acts, despite it being for the greater good of the city.

He wanted to just live another day normally, without this so called gift.

Just one day.

He'd like for everything to go back to how it was; live a life where the biggest problem he faced was trying to boost Harry's grades.

"I notice things have been different nowadays," MJ sighed, as if she had been reading Peter's mind, "I know that things have been rough for you, and it has been rough for us, too. I know you can't help but disappear when something comes up that you desperately need to take care of. But for the love of everything good, reach out to someone: Harry. Aunt May. Me. Just talk to someone."

"If only it were that easy," he nearly muttered, only saying it in his head. He knew that talking would be the eventual death of him; he'd be endangering everyone he had ever known and loved. Instead of saying anything more, MJ gave him a silent embrace. Somehow, it made Peter feel better about the situation.

Despite not being able to talk to someone, he should continue to do what he is doing. If he doesn't, there wouldn't be a place Peter could live in anymore; his friends would be destroyed the way his home was, and no one would even blink an eye or know how he felt. So to avoid anything like that, he decided to stay a little longer. Instead of just sulking in his own sadness of being unable to save a few lives, he wanted to learn instead.

After all, he may never know what might come up in the future.

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Inspired by OfficialUSMWriter