Five minutes went by, and the alarm clock was still ringing. Peter had been up an hour prior to his alarm going off, however, he was staring at the wall – so many thoughts and worries were ravaging his mind.

The truth was, he just wanted to lie in that bed, and never have to worry about anything again. He turned his head to the other side of the bed, and closed his eyes in despair, feeling the cold and untouched side. I guess I should get up, he thought to himself, and finally shut off the alarm clock.

Peter hunched over the side of the bed, and got up to change into his clothes for the day. He started to put on a pair of pants that he found deep in his closet, but realized they were a way too tight in the waist. "Jesus Christ", he murmured.

In the twenty years since he was blipped back from the snap, and the mess that followed from Mysterio, Peter had a very stressful and depressing life. In order to cope with that stress and despair, he turned to eating and binge drinking. However, because he wasn't as active of a Spider-Man as he was a few years ago, the food and drinks got to him.

Once Peter was dressed he headed for the kitchen, and made his usual breakfast: scrambled eggs with bacon and cheese, potato chips, and a Bud Light to wash it down. As he was about to eat, he heard the police scanner go off, "all units. We have a hostage situation down at the pier."

Peter rolled his eyes, and said to himself, "can't I just get a fucking day?!" He shoveled down his food and beer, switched out of his clothes, and into his very snug Spider-Man gear. He then sighed, and swung out of his window.


Peter got to the scene just in time, and found the culprit of the situation. "Okay bud, you made me shovel down my breakfast for this shit, let's just finish this."

The man laughed and said, "oh lookie here! It's the fatso Spider-Man! What are you gonna do, sit on me?"

At this moment, Peter threw a punch so hard towards the man, that it knocked him out in one punch; he forgot to monitor the punch so it didn't kill him. Shit, Peter thought to himself, and ran over just to be sure the man was okay.

Looking at the passed out man, he noticed he was breathing, but he would have two large black eyes. Noticing this, Peter sighed a breath of relief and swung over to the cops. "Looks like you guys should be good from here, thanks for the help."

"Thank you, Spider-Man", one of the officers said, "it's good to see you out this morning." The officer grinned.

Years ago, Peter would have loved that the cops were finally on his side after the PR cleanup that was done after Mysterio revealed who he was. But like everything else in Peter's life, things changed for the worst, and he didn't care anymore.

So, instead of responding back to the officer, he swung away and headed home. I'm done for the day, he thought to himself, as he crawled into the window. He started to change back into his clothes when he noticed the voicemail notification from his phone on the counter. He picked up the phone to listen to his voicemail, and realized who it was – he forgot that he had called her last night in a drunken stupor.

"Peter", the tired voice said, "it's MJ. You called me last night – I assume you were drunk – but I wanted to make sure you were alright." There was a small cry that followed her sentence, and she continued, "please, just please call me so that I know you're okay?" The phone clicked.

Immediately, Peter called her. It didn't even start to ring, and she was already on the line. "Peter?! Are you okay?" Michelle sounded stressed and exhausted.

I'm not okay, Peter thought. However, he didn't want to put her through any more than he already has, he lied. "Yeah, MJ, I'm fine. I uh- wasn't myself. I'm sorry I woke you up last night." It was silent on the other end of the line. Worried, Peter spoke. "Hello? MJ?"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" MJ finally answered after a few seconds.

Knowing exactly where this was going, but wanted to still hear her voice, Peter asked, "what do you mean?"

Sighing in anger, Michelle blurted, "you know exactly what I mean. Ever since our son died, you haven't been yourself. You have become an alcoholic, you can't keep a job, you rarely do any Spider-Man activities, and you pushed me away. I lost him too, you know. I grew him for nine months, and he came out lifeless. Do you know what that did to me?!" Michelle started to cry excessively on the other end of the line, but continued, "instead of us dealing with his death as husband and wife, you turned to drinking, and left me to grieve alone!"

Tears were streaming down Peter's face, but he couldn't talk. He knew he wasn't a good husband to Michelle in those moments, and that was where their marriage started to crumble. In all honesty, Peter blamed himself for their stillborn son – he always thought that his DNA caused issues with their baby. He couldn't ever tell this to Michelle, because he didn't want to worry her, but it turns out that it hurt worse this way.

Thinking that he should say something, Peter softly said, "I-I'm sorry."

Michelle sighed, and said, "I can't keep doing this. I know we are divorced and all, but it needs to be final. Please don't ever call me again, I'm blocking your number, and don't follow me in your Spider-Man suit. I need to move on with my life, and I can't keep enabling your unhealthy habits."

Feeling as though his heart was in his stomach, he rushed, "M-Michelle, wait pleas-!"

The phone clicked.

Peter collapsed to the floor, and cried for the rest of the day.