It all happened so fast.

One moment, you were crossing the street, obediently obeying all the traffic laws just as your parents told you to, and the next? The glaring headlights of a bright blue car — in broad daylight — became bigger as roots seemed to grow out of your feet and into the ground. There was a slight ringing in your ears, and your vision blacked out for a second, but when you opened your eyes again, the swerving car was gone. The road you were on was car-free.

Everything else remained in the same condition as it was. The lady near the newsstand was still complaining about the train, the coffee shop was buzzing with customers and the glass pane on the window of the comic book store was still stained from the latest paint job.

Scratching your head, you continued making your way home. Not much of a big deal.

Yet it was a big deal the moment you set foot into your house.

Entering your home, you shut the door behind you and called out for your mum. No reply came back.

"Mum?"

A whimper came from your room, followed by quiet sobs.

Suddenly feeling lighter, you headed towards your room, only to find the door slightly open. You pushed it opened with minimum strength, and there was your mother, on your bed, with tears flowing down her cheeks like a leaky tap.

As your room door usually creaked, your mother looked up at the sound of it moving. You waved, but she returned to the photograph in her hands, with no sign of improvement in her emotional state. That was a picture of your family when everyone was younger, running around in the fields as you chased the bubbles your dad was blowing. Sitting down beside her, you muttered, "Hey Mum, it's okay."

As you did, you placed your hand on her shoulders, except it didn't stay put. It went right through her.

Startled, you drew your hand back immediately and tried again, and again, and again. It all led to the same results. Somehow, you couldn't touch her anymore. Looking down at your hands, you realised how you could...see through them. Eyes widening, you dashed out of the room and leaned against the bathroom door. You stared at your hands again, and then your legs. You could see through yourself, every part of yourself, and that was when you started to shake with fear.

Without warning, your entire body phased through the bathroom door, leaving you to fall onto the cold hard tiles. You started to breathe faster as you stood up, finding yourself face-to-face in the mirror. There wasn't a reflection, and your hands and feet started to turn cold.

You ran.

Away from your home, away from the street and to anywhere, hoping that someone could see you. You ran through walls and yelled and shouted and screamed and cried, in front of some people's faces even, yet none of them heard or saw you, or even felt your presence. They continued with what they were doing, chattering animatedly about the latest soccer news or work or relationships, but they just didn't notice you. You had thought that maybe it was just like the movie, "Coco", but no dog took notice of you.

You didn't know what to do, and that was when the voice came.

"Hello there, (Y/N)."

It came from everywhere, like Dolby Surround 7.1 in the cinema.

In a timid voice, you asked, your entire body trembling, "What's happening?"

The voice sighed, "It's a phrase."

"Don't pun with me," you felt a mixture of fear and anger boil inside of you, "No one can see or hear me and I can walk through things, so unless I'm becoming a superhero, you better give it to me straight."

There was a moment of silence before it spoke again, "I don't know how to put this gently or comfortingly, so here's what's going on."

The next three words punched you in the face really, really hard.

"You're not here."

It was as though an inbuilt dam in your brain had opened, unleashing the waves of flashbacks from earlier in the day. You remembered the blue and red flashes, the sirens, the warm hand of someone with a gentle voice on your face, the smell of tar and the taste of fresh blood in your mouth. Then there were the bright lights shining above you, the panic in your parents' voice, the cold metal on your skin and the smell of grape hand sanitiser. Finally, you saw your parents' face again, and felt your hand secured in theirs, and it all went black. That was it.

"I'm dead."

"I didn't say that."

"What else can it be?"

You spaced out for a really long while to gather your thoughts. You had so much you wanted to do, you had a future, you had friends, you were going to be a (job), it was all within the grasp of your hands. And now there was nothing. You were swept away from the world like dust on the street.

"If I'm really dead," you asked to the air surrounding you, "Then where am I?"

"In a phrase."

"Why?"

The voice explained in a soothing tone, "You're not satisfied yet. There's one thing you desire, and you're here to fulfil it."

"What can I possibly want to be fulfilled?" You exclaimed, "I lost my life, my family, my future, my friends, my-"

It was him. He's the last thing that you need.

"Peter."

With a chuckle, the voice left you with one last sentence, "You've only got one chance. Use it well."

You tore off the minute it stopped talking.

Down the bridge and across the street you went, passing through cars and crowds like an expert. Peter should be at home now, it was homework Saturday, and that was where you were heading.

Smashing through the door of his apartment, you felt your spirits lift up as you heard the boy role playing as the Avengers again.

"Patience," you heard him say as he mimicked Captain America for the sixth time, trying to perfect his accent. Laughing quietly, you entered his room by phasing and watched him, in his spider mask, switching to another prop to act as the Hulk.

You needed to get his attention, but looking at your current state, it was going to be quite difficult to do so. You could hardly pick anything up at this rate, but you had to try.

Tapping him didn't work, for your hand fell right through him. Yelling at the top of your lungs wouldn't work as well, since you already tested it on a hundred people before. As you were still able to touch the floor, you reached out for the books on the table and tried to pick them up. A floating book was sure to scare the 'fearless' superhero, as he claimed.

The books slipped through your fingers, but you swore you felt something. Giving it another attempt, and another, and another, the frustration building up in you exceeded your tolerance level.

"How am I supposed to rest in peace if I can't do what I want to?"

You swept the books forcefully, expecting your hand to pass right through them. Instead, the books fell to the floor with a loud thud. Peter stopped his acting and froze on the spot.

"Karen..."

Hopeful, you let your emotions get the better of you and kicked the ball on the floor, sending it to the door. Peter jumped at the sound of the ball crashing into the door, dramatically turning towards it.

"Who's there?"

You apologised to him, even though he couldn't hear you, and knocked the periodic table off his wall.

Peter stood up instantly and picked up his Thor hammer, "I-I'm warning you, I'm armed!"

Again with the apology, you ripped his blanket off his bed.

The young superhero backed up against the window, tightly gripping onto the curtains behind him with his free hand, "Please don't hurt me. I-I'm Spiderman."

Feeling a certain strength and sudden urge flow through your veins, you picked up the pencil on the table and scribbled on a piece of paper. Peter watched fearfully as from his point of view, a pencil was floating in midair, writing by itself on his graded assignment. When you were done, you set the pencil down and lay on his bed, only realising now how exhausting it was.

Gingerly walking towards his table, Peter kept his hammer close to his face. He eyed the pencil resting next to his papers, then read the sentence written. His heart skipped a beat.

"(Y/N)?"

Although you were smiling, you struggled to push yourself out of bed and to stand beside him, still drained from the recent destruction.

He flipped the paper over and back, several times, and said, "Wha-What's going on? (Y/N), if you suddenly have some powers, this isn't the best way to share them."

I wish.

When he didn't get a reply, Peter spun around on his chair.

"I'm serious, (Y/N), stop fooling around and show yourself."

I can't.

Another moment of silence, and Peter removed his mask, "(Y/N), please, whatever sin I committed," he paused, "Okay maybe a bit too dramatic, but I can make up for it, just please come out."

A sudden thought struck you as you felt something heavy fall into your pockets. Fishing out your phone, which seemed more like a spirit version like you, you opened your chat with Peter and began typing.

The boy's phone lit up with a 'ding!'. He picked it up.

(Y/N):
I'm in your room, but you can't see me.

His fingers tapped his phone screen four times.

Peter:
Why?

(Y/N):
I

Your thumb accidentally hit the 'send button', but you didn't know how to finish the sentence.

Peter:
(Y/N), what's going on? Why can't I see you?

"Don't scare me, (Y/N), come out, come out," Peter said out loud instead of texting it, which was a particular habit of his whenever he wanted to express his thoughts to himself. Now you knew how many doctors felt when they broke the unfortunate news to the loved ones of the patients, except this time, you're talking about your own death.

Maybe it would be easier if you showed him. Somehow. If you could move objects in your current form, maybe you could get him to feel you.

Your eyes fell on the black computer mouse and an idea made its way into your head.

Quickly typing out a text, you placed your hand on the mouse, hitting the 'send' button with the other hand.

(Y/N):
Touch the computer mouse.

"What?"

Peter checked his surroundings once again. There was confusion written all over his face, but he did as he was told.

He poked the mouse.

You laughed because he wasn't supposed to do that, but seeing the look on his face kept you entertained.

Seeing as nothing happened, Peter unlocked his phone again, only for it to vibrate with another message from you.

(Y/N):
Nooo that's not what I meant.

"Then how do you want me to touch it?" Peter asked out loud, assuming that you could hear him, which you could.

"Like, I don't think you want me to hug it?" He scratched his head, "I-I mean, I could if you want me to, but isn't it a bit too small?"

(Y/N):
Like, hold it like when you're using it and leave it there, dumbo

A loud 'oh' sound came from the boy's mouth, and he proceeded to do as he was told.

"What now?"

(Y/N):
Give me a moment.

You placed your hand directly above his. Mustering all the strength you had, you channeled your energy and emotions to get a solid physical contact with the one who held you back from finding peace. You weren't even sure if it would work, but if it meant touching him again, then you're willing to do anything.

Peter stared at the mouse as the time passed. One second turned into sixty, then one minute became three. Just as he was about to let go, he felt a sudden surge of warmth rush over him, and the moment he blinked, it happened.

You were standing right in front of him, and he felt you. He felt your hand.

"Hello."

"Oh my god."

His eyes widened as he subconsciously let go of the mouse. You held onto his wrist tightly as letting go would mean your efforts going down the drain.

"Hey hey hey, calm down."

He blinked several times rapidly, "(Y/N)?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"How're you doing this?"

"I'll explain, but you need to calm down," you said, and then looked down at your hand, "And don't let go of me, otherwise I'll be gone."

At the sound of that, Peter immediately grabbed your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours.

"Alright then," the boy said, "Explain."

Just as you were about to open your mouth, he pointed up, "Also, why does it look so sparkly in here?"

"Really?"

You glanced around the room. Indeed, it had became slightly brighter and shiny. There was a sort of halo feeling to it. The atmosphere seemed a little happier. It was like you had stepped into another dimension, and so did he. The dimension between two worlds, the living and the dead.

"Anyway, that aside," you said, unsure of how to answer him.

"I'm listening," Peter reassured, adjusting his grip of your hand. He then pressed his hand against your forehead, "Are you okay though? You're like, really cold."

You laughed nervously, "That's the thing."

The young superhero's eyes lit up, "Your new powers?"

"No, not real-"

"Does that mean you have ice powers?" He interrupted, starting to get all excited, "Oh! Like Elsa? Or Jack Frost? We could go on so many crime-saving adventures! Imagine that! Me and you, Spiderman and um...Icy!"

"Icy?"

"Yeah! Your new superhero name!" Peter exclaimed, only for his face to turn slightly red a second later, "If you want that."

His grin was so contagious, you couldn't bear to tell him what you have to. This was probably the last time you would see him this happy. And here you were, about to slam him down with a brick of sadness.

You laughed sadly, your vision blurring, "That would be nice."

"Heck yeah!" He shouted, but noticing the downcast look on your face, his smile disappeared, "Hey, what's wrong? Did I overreact?"

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. He noticed this too, "You okay?"

"Peter," you started, voice quavering slightly, "Whatever I'm going to say next, please don't freak out."

He brought his hand up to your face, wiping the little tear that was on your cheek, "Alright, but please don't cry. You crying makes me cry."

Holding back the tears that started to form in your eyes, you finally mustered the courage to say the next two words.

"I'm dead."

Peter didn't say a word. He let out a small laugh and turned away, and even though you were no mind reader, you already knew there were millions of questions and thoughts running through his brain. He looked at you again, noting the sincerity of your words. You were being serious.

It all made sense. The puzzle pieces finally fitted together. That was why you were so cold, why he couldn't see you, why the room around you had changed slightly, why random objects were moving in his room by itself, and why he was told not to let go.

Finally, a word came out from his mouth.

"Why?"

You had no answer, and could only reply with an apology.

"I'm sorry."

The redness in his eyes were becoming more obvious by the second. He let out a choked sob, "What happened?"

Mimicking his actions earlier, you wiped away a tear on his face, ignoring those falling from your eyes, "I don't know. I woke up on the road."

He looked out the window, "The sirens earlier."

"The what?"

"There were sirens earlier," Peter said in a soft voice, "I thought it was the police, but it was an ambulance. I didn't think it was serious. I didn't think..."

He didn't continue, and shut his eyes as he let more tears flow. You stroked his cheek, forcing a smile as he looked back at you.

"You can't be dead! If you were, someone would have called!"

"Dead or not, can't do much now, can we?" You said, letting out a sob right after.

Peter placed his arms on your shoulder, his voice breaking, "I was going to bring you to that new restaurant down the street. We were going to Disneyland!" He stopped to rub his eyes, "How're you even coping?"

You knew the answer, but you didn't tell him. It was painful to smile, but you did it anyway.

"I don't know what to say," you responded, half laughing.

The two of you stood in silence, a faint twinkling sound lingering in the room. Peter's grip on your shoulder grew tighter by the second. You could see him quiver, soaking in the information, bit by bit. You put your hand on him, curling your fingers around his wrist.

It all seemed magical, but this situation was far from it. The golden hue in the room started to disappear, but that meant you were too. It was like you were evaporating really slowly. It didn't take long for Peter to notice.

"(Y/N)?"

"What's happening?" You asked, a tremble in your voice.

He gulped, "I think, I think you're going."

A new wave of tears spilled out from your eyes. It was too soon. How is seeing Peter for ten seconds, in pain if you would add, good enough to satisfy your desire?

"No (Y/N), please, don't-" The boy tried to comfort you, but you cut him off. Anyway, he probably couldn't because he was a mess as well.

"I don't want to go, Peter," you cried, "There's so much I want to do with you, I don't want to go!"

As you let out another loud sob, Peter embraced you in a hug, burying his face into your shoulder. He inhaled sharply, and spoke, but his words were muffled.

"I don't want you to go, (Y/N)."

You hugged him as tightly as you could, feeling yourself become lighter and lighter. Your hands, wrapped around Peter's neck, were fading, and so was the rest of your body. Closing your eyes, you muttered in his ear.

"Please don't forget me."

He lifted his head and stared deeply into your translucent eyes. In a second, his lips touched yours, and the next, he felt nothing.

The golden sparks in the room had vanished.

"(Y/N)?"

A car horn from the streets blared as the sound of the engine of a motorcycle became softer after an initial loud drone.

Carelessly wiping the tears off his face, Peter frantically fumbled about.

"(Y/N)? Where are you? Please don't do this to me!"

He tripped and fell face flat. He didn't understand. You were just there. He heard you. He touched you. He felt you.

His phone started to vibrate. As quick as lightning, he stumbled towards the table where it was, snatching it.

It was you. Your number. Your face.

A small flame of hope rekindled. He answered the call. He's going to hear your voice again. All that was just now was a dream. That's right, his imagination was awesome.

"(Y/N)! You scared me! I thought-"

"Hello? Is this Mr Peter Parker?"

No, that wasn't you. It was your dad.

"Mr (L/N)?"

"Hey Peter. Listen, you might want to sit down..."

-

Dedicated to Kimiko_Jaguar because she's awesome and we all like a little angst (if this is considered angst?) sometimes ;)