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It was eating at her soul.
What Gwen once thought were the parts of herself she could piece together to resemble who she was were starting to slip away.
It wouldn't be a witty, strong-willed thief who would cause her downfall. Or a vigorous and undefeatable mutant villain. Nor a series of fatal yet heroic injuries. Not even a natural death after the type of decent, peaceful life she longed for.
No, none of those things would be the reasons she'd meet her own end far too early.
It would be her grief. Her guilt. The very feelings that were, to this day, haunting her with every breath she took.
She found it everywhere. In the little reminders of him - the emptiness of the seat beside her during science practicals, the smell of new textbooks, a picture of a lizard on anything ranging from a poster to a sticker. Hell, she even felt it in her happiest moments.
Sometimes it came when she was enjoying her time with her newly acquired companions at the Spider Society (she almost didn't want to admit it because after all this time, it still felt wrong calling anyone other than him, her Peter, a friend). Just a harmless joke, a quick laugh with Hobie and Pav, and in mere seconds she'd be sinking into the abyss again. Like she wasn't really in the moment anymore.
But over time, she learned to hide it excellently. They never caught on, and it would have to remain that way. They shouldn't worry about her, they should never have to. It wasn't fair on them.
So even when she felt her throat constricting, her stomach twisting and her mind reeling and drifting away all at once, she played along. Kept the act up. They wouldn't realise, because eventually, she just got better and better at covering it up with a convincing smile.
Other times it would be while she was drumming.
The steady beat and the well-composed rhythm kept an energised flow of blood coursing through her veins, pumping through to her heart. For a while, it would be freeing, like she was ascending.
Until it wasn't.
Because all of a sudden, It really would become an outlet for her emotions rather than a hobby. And, as promised, it would open the floodgates for unwanted memories she'd much rather have ignored and moved on from. It was one of the few times she'd actually ever acknowledge those thoughts.
Those thoughts referring to the hopeless what ifs, or if only I... statements that she should have let go of months prior, should've buried away and shoved in a box at the back of her mind. Secured with a padlock that had a key long thrown out of a window. There was no point in pondering over how she could've changed his fate, how he could've lived instead of her if at least one of them had to die no matter what - right?
Gwen would bang against the drums harder and harder, until her arms would strain, bringing her back to the present. She'd throw her drumsticks down onto the floor with a smack of wood against wood and let the sorrow drown her for a moment. Let it tighten her airways and threaten her eyes with burning tears, let it clench at her heart with a force so strong she thought the organ might burst within her.
And then she'd peel her eyes open, let go of her fists shakily and attempt to regulate her breathing, her entire body quivering with each drawn out inhale and exhale. The world would feel blurry and dream-like for a while, and she wouldn't feel, well, real. It was something akin to floating outside of your physical body, as if she was just a witness to her own life.
It felt numb.
Everything would lose its colour. Personality drained from her surroundings. Voices became muffled and direct contact felt more like feather-light brushes.
Nothing was right, but she could never find it in her to be slightly anxious or even just a little on edge. The bursts of grief would drain the life from her too. Until she faded into the dull ambiance like an insignificant fill-in figure in a painting.
Gwen hated it.
-
And yet, like all loss and bereavement, she found the little things that helped her along the way.
Such as making herself a steaming cup of herbal tea when it got colder. The heat emanating from the porcelain would warm her hands, and then her throat as she drank it slowly to savour each sip.
Or the breeze sweeping past her as she defied gravity, swinging through the city with her webs, graceful as an acrobat made for exploring the skies. She used to wonder what it would be like to let the wind run through her hair while swinging, and now with her inter-dimensional travel watch, it was possible. No one would recognise her if she was in the middle of nowhere or in some derelict city ruins. There were more than a few benefits to joining the Society, to say the least.
But it wasn't just the physical things that she could experience in real time.
Sometimes, what filled the hollowness within her was the particularly cherishable memories - but not of him. Sure, remembering Peter helped from time to time on the better days, but on others it only made her hurt more. Because a lot of the time, the image of him would appear as a dead boy. Not lively and happy, smiling straight at her. It would be his frozen face, locked in one expression for the rest of time. His still chest would refuse to heave up and down no matter how hard she tried to push down on his ribs to force out another breath. The eyes staring up at her would be lifeless - literally. Just more reminders that he was not here anymore, and he never would be. Forever a figment of her imagination.
Instead, less cruel, brighter memories would linger consisting of dark curls and warm chestnut eyes that were alive, flickering in and out of focus. That sweet, welcoming smile that her mind refused to forget - not that she was complaining.
A smooth voice and the kind, comedic words that came with it.
Miles Morales. The literal angel sent down that she had the utmost pleasure of meeting.
Only once, and maybe never again.
She would have gone to visit him months ago, see how he was doing, ask him all the burning questions she had in her head from the moment they said their final goodbyes. How is it going? Have you gotten the hang of being Spider-Man yet? I assume you have. Is it getting easier to deal with? Do you think your parents would react better than my dad did-
But she'd been strictly forbidden from doing exactly that. Miguel and Jess explained it to her at her initial debrief of what the Spider Society was and her role in it. She was never to go to Miles' dimension, or interact with him ever.
It pained her to no end, but this was her "home". For now, at least. She couldn't mess up, because then she'd have fewer places to stay and a whole lot less purpose in her life.
The irrational part of her believed it was worth seeing him again, but she couldn't. Couldn't bring herself to see him, and potentially put the both of them in danger. What would be the point if his dimension could collapse if she suddenly felt like popping in for a little chat? That would be entirely selfish of her.
So instead, she'd lay in the comfortable silence of her small quarters at the Society. It wasn't much, but it was sufficient. Sprawled out on her simple single bed, Gwen would stare up at the ceiling, letting every thought of him wander back to her.
She deeply regretted not having the chance to grab the polaroid of them together on the bus, it being the only physical thing she had remaining of him. But she was making it work. Maybe one day she could sneak back home and snatch it before finding her way back here, in this same position, just with one more thing she held dear to her.
Maybe then it would get better.
The torment would never truly leave. It was impossible. It would follow her through to the end of her days. It could, however, get easier. She could learn to deal with it.
Until then, she'd remain this way, trying to carefully pick apart her thoughts and replace them with new happier ones. Of a boy that was alive. That she still had a chance of seeing again.
It was foolish hope, dangerous even, and she wanted to scold herself for it. Yet, it was what kept her soul intact, her smile on her face and it let the real her survive underneath all the burden.
It would be worth it someday. She'd make sure of it.