allaboutwaiting-blog said: ▼MEME | Closed!
Send me ‘▼’ and my muse will tell you one thing they will teach their children.
(It’s 4AM and I spent a majority of this night on this ‘meme-turned-fanfic’, so hopefully you guys enjoy!!)
“ Hey, dad! ”
There’s the gentle, almost rhythmic sound of small hands rummaging through cardboard boxes, knees up against the floorboards as she pulls out and spares a minute to glance at old papers, memorabilia and lost, mundane household items from younger years.
He distracts himself from the current task of sweeping up the family room to check on his daughter, turning around and catching sight of her curiously dissecting the contents of a box, at her feet a clutter of lost memories and reminders placed to the side. There is a growing pile opposite of each other, on each side of the room, a post-it note clarifying what was to be donated and what was to be kept.
Peter Parker walks over, examining the boxes his wife pulled out of the basement that he promised to clean up ‘eventually’, a half-promise placed somewhere in the line of tasks to do by dinner-time.
Eventually turned out to be sooner than he thought. The window is shivering with a gentle sheet of rain, trapping the Parkers’ indoors, sentencing them to a day of house chores and, if May was particularly lucky, afternoon cartoons.
“ Didn’t you volunteer to help me with the house-cleaning? ” He’s smirking, wondering what has caught her precious attention this time. He crouches down and looks over her shoulder as she curiously investigates the exterior of a dusty, leather-bound book.
“What’s this, dad?” she looks up at him, the inquisitiveness in her eyes and the bright, toothy grin a combination of the best things she had inherited from her mother and father.
He looks at the case, taking a moment to remember what it was before answering her.
“ It’s my old photo album, May. ”
She places a small, experimental hand at the edges, playing with the contours of the pages as if to open them before realizing she may need to ask permission first.
He crosses his legs and lifts her up, noting just how much bigger she’s become before placing her on his lap and wrapping her frame with two strong arms. She giggles, and he’s happy to know that she’s not old enough yet to stop enjoying ‘lift-offs’ . He places his own hand over hers, the comparison in size almost comical but endearing, before opening the album up for her to see.
The pages are off-white and smell of age, small coffee stains and blotches of permanent marker dotted on the surface, but May Parker’s eyes only flit to the areas of importance: photographs, ingrained with fingerprint marks at the edges, taped down by its ends and finally breathing and coming to life after being creased and pressed between two slabs of leather for so long.
The gloss is still bright. The compositions look so familiar yet new that Peter can’t help but grin, modest eyes falling with mild interest because he’s starting to remember all these photos and just how much effort each one took.
May whispers an audible ‘ cool ’, not so discreet that she can hide her enthusiasm from her father. He feels proud, as he flips through each page and pauses to answer the usual routine of questions that she has. She was never known to shy away from questions, and her father encouraged this with resounding affection.
“ Who’s this? ”
“ That’s your Great-Aunt May and Great-Uncle Ben. ”
They’re looking at a photo of Peter’s 9th birthday, when he was her age. He’s wearing a goofy, lopsided smile and sitting with his aunt and uncle, a small birthday cake and a couple of presents sitting at the modest table.
“ They look so young! ” she looks up, and Peter’s chuckling. She speaks with fervor, gunning off question after question about her namesake. He answers swiftly, making sure to recount all the details of her strength, love and courage. He takes a lasting glance at the photo, remembering how long it took for his uncle to work the timer feature on the old family camera before he had to get up and help him out.
He turns the page, flipping through old school memories and small life events before May stops him with resounding excitement,
“ Look, it’s mom! ”
She’s standing on a stage, an array of flowers lined at her heels. She’s wearing a smile so bright that it’s only outmatched by the spotlight lighting up her entire being.
He’s rolling his eyes, “ How did you know? ” a slight tone of sarcasm he hasn’t used in forever playing at his lips.
She looks up at him and pouts, for a second wondering if he seriously forgot how distinct her mother’s red hair is.
He laughs, and it’s infectious enough that May can’t help but giggle too. They spend a few more seconds looking at the photo, and he reminisces how much younger they used to be when they first started going out. He can’t help but think about how much more beautiful she’s become to him over the years.
May is the first to take the initiative this time, flipping the next page over, another photo of the duo standing together, in what appears to be after the show. They keep turning the pages, and each moment reminds him of how much time really has passed. The album is sporadic, always jumping forward and back in time, a gentle reminder that the world is more than just nine to five jobs and days that seem to blur together.
In some photos there is the slightest miserable beat of memory. An old family photo of his father and mother, or the smile of his best friend.
But he is at peace. He touches each one with a delicate hand, offering each one tender reflection before moving on.
In other photos, the warm buzz of happiness radiates off the pages as he turns them, and there are birthdays to remember, formals to revisit, anniversaries to recount and even a wedding to look fondly on. With each passing photo, May absorbs it, nodding occasionally, but ultimately quizzing her dad’s memory for the most part until she is satisfied.
They are nearing the end when it’s her turn to flip the page. She does so with anticipation, her fingertips careful to slowly lift the paper off its creases as to not damage the photograph on the other side. But once it’s in the air, she lets it fall, watching the page flutter before finding its resting place on the other end.
She tilts her head, intrigued by what she sees. Her mouth opens slightly, as if to ask a question before she closes it again. Her eyes search the image for a prompt, something to indicate to her what is so important about it. It’s nobody she knows, that’s all she can say for certain.
She reaches out, delicately placing her index as if to trace the details. The school bench she is sitting on, the book in her hand, the blonde hair meticulously tied up in a ponytail, bangs kept in-check by a black head-band.
“Who’s that, dad?”
He looks at the photo and pauses.
“A very good friend of mine.”
May takes it as a hint, redoubling her efforts to try and figure who was in the photograph, playing at it like a puzzle that needed to be solved.
He blinks, his mind recounting days when the sun used to be cold. He can feel a small sense of nostalgia creep in, tugging at the bluest depths of his memory. But there is no misery to be found anymore.
It is silent for a moment, with May being unsure of what to do now. She is given no hint to turn the page, and suddenly the rain is the biggest conversationalist in the room.
“ Was she important to you? ” she asks, fearless in the way only children are.
Peter smiles, “Yes, she was very important to me. ”
“ So what happened? ”
She’s looking up now over her shoulder, fully intent on getting a satisfying answer before continuing on. He looks towards the window-sill, thoughtful and distant at first before he looks back down at May. Her eyes are wide, brows slightly furrowed, her hair tied up in a pony-tail that her mother taught. She was always proud that she could do it by herself.
He hugs his daughter warmly before answering her.
“ I messed up, May. Big time. And that’s why she’s not around anymore.”
Her gaze becomes perplexed, looking unsatisfied with his answer so far.
“ Did you say sorry?”
“Oh yeah. A whole bunch of times, I did. She never accepted it.”
“You must have messed up real bad then.”
He nods, pulling her closer so now they’re both looking at the photo album. She takes it as a signal to try and restart her investigation, scanning over the candid shot again. Unlike the others, this one is showing its age: dirty fingerprints and dried watermarks stain the edges of the photo, as if it has weathered a storm and lives on to tell the tale of its voyage.
“ I really did. ”
She cranes her head again, feeling the barest of sadness at the edges of his words, but before she can ask him anything about it, she hears him speak again.
“ But you don’t get caught up in what you did or could have done. You learn a little bit from it. Then learn a little more. ”
He pushes the photo album away a bit, so that he can focus his attention on her.
“ You’re going to make a thousand mistakes, and each one is going to hurt. But you don’t let that stop you. You keep going. You take them with you, because you don’t want to forget them. Because they’ll help you get closer to getting it right. And you only need to get it right once. ”
He smiles, and for the first time she starts to see the age in her father’s eyes. She ponders his words for a second, deep in thought herself.
“ Do you think she’ll ever be your friend again? ”
“ I hope so. But she’s pretty stubborn. Like your mom. ”
He is unsure if the words were lost on her, but he knows that she will remember it, at least. And remembering, in its own way, is just as important.
“Alright, c’mon! We still have half a house to clean.”
She perks up at his words. He closes up the album, carrying it in one hand as he wraps one strong arm around May Parker, lifting her off to the sky while imitating rocket noises. He places her back down on the ground, her tiny feet suddenly abound with energy after sitting for so long.
“Let’s go check on mom.” she nods her agreement, before running up the stairs two steps at a time.
He takes one last look at the photo album, giving it a sweep of his palm to get rid of the dust, before placing it in its designated pile: to keep.
6 years ago with 6 notes
#spiidergwcn #spidergirled #chemistacy #incxndia #[ RP | INQUIRY ] #[ RP | DRABBLE ]
allaboutwaiting-blog said: I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS WTFFF IT’S BEAUTIFUL
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chemistacy-blog said: hOW DARE YOU WHAT THE FUCK
amazingarachnid-blog posted this