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    Summary

    Red.

     

    Red was quite the color.

     

    The color of love, the color of hate.

     

    The color of glowing cheeks under a streetlight, of smiling lips and sweet rose petals. The color of a sour lollipop in a child’s young hand.

     

    The color of war, of blood, of pain. The color that plagued the nightmares of the bravest men.

     

    Yes, red was quite a few things at once, but right now, it was the color that coated Peter Parker’s hands as he stumbled away from the warm corpses of his aunt and uncle, silhouetted cruelly by the neon store signs, and into the unknown of a quiet, star-dotted night in Queens.

    ——

    Or, the homeless Peter au where civil war didn’t happen, Spiderman’s Identity is still a mystery, and May got shot with Ben. Enjoy.

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