333(A/N: I do not own Spiderman. That right belongs to Sony
Also, just a fair warning. Read the summary before reading).
There was a time and place in which Peter Parker had felt he was on top of the world. Much time had passed since he last had that feeling
It has been almost 3 months since Norman Osborn's funeral and when Gwen chose to stay with Harry even after her and Peter agreed to get together by breaking up with their boyfriend and girlfriend. Peter's heart was torn in 2 as a result because not only was he not getting with the girl of his dreams but also because he didn't even have his now ex-girlfriend Liz (Who hated his guts now because he broke up with her) to go back to who he cursed himself for breaking up with too soon.
Peter also hadn't heard a word from either of them since the funeral that day. They hadn't visited, they hadn't called, not even a damn text message. It's like they weren't even friends anymore. Though, maybe it was for the best. Would he even have wanted to spend time with them? Would he have wanted to see Gwen in Harry's arms when he had no one and when Gwen was supposed to be with him? He doubted it heavily. It would have drove him mad with depression, probably.
If there was any sort of saving grace in all this, it's that Mary-Jane was still a friend who hadn't abandoned him. He told her about his and Gwen's agreement and the fact that they weren't talking to him. As a result, she went into a sort of protective friend overdrive. They would then constantly do things together. However, despite the fact that Peter really appreciated this, it didn't really help. Whatever they did, Peter was still depressed whether whether they would go out out to the Silver Spoon for a sundae, see a movie together, play video games together (Even though that wasn't really Mary-Jane's thing, etc. However it was all in a vain. The Peter Parker from before was gone, replaced by a depressing carbon copy.
Peter didn't let his depression deter him from his duties as Spiderman. However, because of his depression, he no longer had any quips to give. It was just stop the villain and that was it. The playfulness and the fun was completely taken out of crime fighting for him.
That was another thing. His supposed best friend Harry was still pissed at him for having a job photographing Spiderman to help out at home. It was all to help out with his Aunt May but whenever someone (namely Gwen) pointed that out, it always fell on deaf ears.
Peter couldn't really blame him considering the recent circumstances but really? As time went on, he honestly thought Harry was being a big baby. Even if he and Spiderman weren't the same person, how would Harry expect someone like him to deal with Spiderman? Call the police? That wouldn't have done anything. Peter couldn't have fought Spiderman and kept all his bones in tact. How exactly was he supposed to valiantly save his criminal father from the evil clutches of Spiderman? He didn't have an answer and neither did Harry probably but that didn't matter. He was still a 'bad friend' either way.
So that's how he was doing in a nutshell. Emotional trauma after another, there was nothing more that could be done. He felt empty. A broken shadow of his former playful, happy self, replaced by this stoic, miserable and depressed shell.
Peter did his best to do anything that could make him feel better...That included a few...recreational activities.
This didn't include drugs or anything. Peter would never try anything like that but...he did turn more to the bottle.
Peter felt what was really the harm. People did it all the time and it seemed like a great stress reliever. However, even he knew at that time that it was just a foolish hopeful voice at the back of his mind trying to do anything to cheer itself up.
Word had it around the school that there was some shady alley in Queens where a local scumbag was selling alcohol to underage kids for twice the price it usually was. It was a crappy way to get booze but where else was a high school kid with money to spare going to get it?
It started out with just a beer or two the first few days. He would always tell Aunt May he was hanging out with MJ because he didn't want her to worry. Peter didn't like lying to Aunt May but he felt that it was only for a short time while he picked himself up. That didn't happen.
A week turned into 2 and 1 to 2 beers would turn to 3 or 4. Soon, it switched up from beer to Whiskey and Vodka. It was higher than beers as one would expect so he had to start taking more cool shots of Spiderman for that. It was almost to the point where Jameson started wondering how on Earth Parker kept knowing where Spiderman would be at just the right time. However, as long as the money kept rolling in, he honestly didn't really care.
The hero soon started developing a problem. He would drink cup after cup, trying anything, anything to get better but nothing ever did, no matter how strong. It only made him more sad, more depressed. He wanted to stop but it was too late. The drink had completely pulled him in and held a tight grip on him.
It was at this point in which he couldn't take this anymore. With everything that had happened, everything that was going on and everything that was sure to come, he wanted to end this pain so badly and he only knew one way how. He debated himself about this for a long time and figured this was the best course of action to take for everybody involved. Harry would keep Gwen, Gwen wouldn't have to worry about Peter anymore, Liz wouldn't have to hate his guts anymore and Peter would be in peace.
He left a lengthy note on the counter for Aunt May who was out for the night and got something out from the drawers that he put into a bag that he flung over his shoulder. With everything he needed in hand, he was out for the night and went into the streets. There was no way this was being done at home.
In an alleyway, he got dressed in full spider gear and left his civilian clothes behind in the bag. He put the object he took from the drawers carefully in his hands and shot his webs out to the streets of Queen.
Spiderman swung up to the top of a tall building. He looked around and saw that no one was around. He took one of his hands out of his suit and took the object from his other hand which turned out to be a sharp steak knife. He took a deep breath and slowly start to cut himself.
It hurt like crazy but Peter felt this was the only way he could keep himself from causing any more harm to either himself or the people around him. It was better this way….
Peter cut about 4 times before his body started to become woozy. Around the sixth, he suddenly started feeling weak. When it came to around 8 cuts, he stopped, his body too weak to do anything more. He laid down on the floor, going off to sleep.
Before he dozed off, he swore he could have heard very audible footsteps running toward him but didn't think too much of it. Who exactly was up on top of a random building in Queens at around 10 PM?
(A/N: This has a bit of a similar beginning to one of my stories. That's sort of because I based that story on when I began writing this story. That should be the only similarity. Just letting you know in case you ever come across it).