Pietro’s Lament

(Told ya I’d make something for his backstory. If you haven’t read Darling Darla, I’d highly suggest you read that first, if not after this.)

Pietro sat in the rickety train car unsure of what to think. He was going…somewhere. Some town. He didn’t really care where, just as long as it was away. Away from the shitty streets he grew up on, filled to the brim with shitty people and even shittier memories.

He had nothing remaining there. It was better to simply leave, and start fresh somewhere else. But he knew, no matter where he went, the memories would follow him. 

Even then, sitting by himself in that train car, Pietro couldn’t escape them. He tried to ignore them- to focus on the music idly dancing around the room. It was a love song. Why did it have to be a love song?! The lyrics, the melody, sank in deep until they cut through his skin. They soured his heart and left him wallowing in bitterness and jealousy, and the emotions picked up like a strong wind, blowing around him like a hurricane. 

He didn’t want this. The memories were too agonizing. Yet deep inside, he understood he couldn’t hide from it forever.

A part of him- the wistful part of him-  wished he was back in her arms again. 


He couldn’t even say her name anymore without memories and emotions flooding in and leaving him drenched in misery.

He didn’t say goodbye to her. Nor did he to anyone. Who else was there to tell except her? Perhaps his friends, but he wasn’t sure if he could still call them that. Maybe she was wondering where he was. Maybe she woke up and merely assumed he moved out because he couldn’t bear to see her hurting anymore. A few days would probably go by before she would realize that he wasn’t even in town. He should have sent a note. 

But what would he have said? “Goodbye”? “Sorry that I was such a crappy boyfriend”? What else was there to say? He had already expressed his guilt. His misery.

He remembered that day well.

She looked beautiful that day.

She looked beautiful any day. Perhaps it was the melancholy atmosphere that made her so much more appealing on that particular day- like seeing something you know you can’t reach. It only makes you want it more.

When Pietro had entered, she was frowning as she cleaned up her home- an anxious habit of hers. But as soon as she heard the door open, she put on a warm smile and greeted him. 

But the warmth was that of a dying candle, flickering as it clung hopelessly against the wick that was so close to burning out. He could see it in her eyes. She was so tired. Tired of this stupid game. And Pietro was too.

“How are you?” she had asked. The words felt stale.

“Uhhh.” He didn’t quite know how he felt. Sad? Hopeless? In pain? “Good,” was all that slipped from his mouth. He could feel the ever-tightening strain on their relationship like a knife in his chest. But he couldn’t bear to address it. 

“As in good-good? Or bad-good?” she replied. Her eyes didn’t meet his as if the moment they did, the flame of their facade would be extinguished. And how would they ever go from there without any light to guide them?

“I…” He didn’t want to lie again. His heart was aching, screaming with agony in a desperate plea to end his suffering. It screamed and shrieked. It tightened his every muscle and flooded his mind. ‘Just say it!’ his heart begged, ‘Can’t you see she’s hurting??’

‘Just say it!!’

‘SAY IT!!”

So he did.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pause.

“Huh?” she looked up from her work, and their eyes met. She was so radiant, her cinnamon brown hair framing her soft-featured face. Stunning in every detail. It only worsened the blow as her sad emerald eyes locked with his, bland and human from his crystal illusion- just as fake as her happiness. “Sorry? For what?” she asked him.


‘SAY IT!!’ his heart demanded, “The truth! Right here! Right now! Unfiltered and pure and painful!’

And so he did.

“…I don’t love you.” 

Her smile dropped, and her expression went blank. He hated the way he had said it. But it was the truth. The torture in his heart was so overpowering that he tore his eyes away from her and dropped them to the floor. He regretted opening his mouth. But he couldn’t run from it now.

“I never did. I thought I did. Every time I told you, I believed every syllable of it.”

Her mouth opened slightly. “But…”

“But…” he echoed, “Lies can’t last forever. Even to yourself. I guess…” Tears began to well up. He shut his eyes tightly, but his voice nevertheless came hoarse and overflowing with emotion. “I just wanted to fall in love.

“I wanted it so badly, I convinced myself that…you and me…” Pietro couldn’t form the words. The agony in his mind couldn’t settle into an explanation that made sense. “We…I couldn’t…I was so desperate…I…”

“I know,” she spoke.

When Pietro lifted his head and caught her gaze, he saw her smiling. It wasn’t fake this time. It was sad and shaky and filled with pain and sorrow. And she was crying… 

He couldn’t take it. His vision grew blurry and tears rolled down his cheeks hot and fast.

“I-I’m sorry,” he sobbed, closing his eyes again and quickly wiping his face dry with leather-gloved palms, “You were- you were so kind- so loving to me. You were the only good thing in my life. You fixed me, and you asked for nothing in return. And- and- and then I go and break your heart. It’s like everything I touch, it…it’s like I can never be truly happy with someone.”

She only smiled and spoke with her voice strained with her emotion. “It’s fine. I guess I’m just not the right one for you.” 

“Then- then who is?!” he demanded, “Why have I been in so many shit relationships, and when I finally get something healthy. I just- I- can’t feel what I want to feel.”

She drew in a sharp breath and wiped away her own tears as a second wave approached. Her smile was gone now. She looked lifeless, gray. It was clear her love for him was still there, merely, it was broken and would never burn as bright as it did again. 

“I…don’t know,” was what she had said in reply.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered through his tears, “Madaline.”


Slowly, his feet moved as if tied to cement blocks. Slowly, he made his way to the door again.

When the door had closed, her sorrowful silence shattered into sobbing. That was what hurt the most, a last final stab to his heart like a grand finish to a symphony. So, he left, although unsure of where he was heading to. He left.

And never came back.

As the song playing in the train came to fruition, Pietro had only one question that rang out in his mind: 

Would he ever find someone?

[5 pages]

(This one was barely reaching five, but I feel like it looks shorter on here. To be honest, I’m not very proud of this one. There are a lot of moving pieces in his backstory and I’m trying to cover as much as I can without having too much. I’ll probably go into more detail in non-flashback scenes because it’s less boring that way. But sometime I’d love to do a deep delve on my spider boy. Perhaps maybe as a bonus thing…)


(9/29/21) Original Pietro concept art. Of course, in this story, he doesn’t have fangs or spider eyes because his illusion crystal isn’t broken. Also, I’ve changed some small details like his face is narrower, his build scrawnier, and his hair a little different
(3/9/22) I’ve never drawn Pietro’s full spider or human forms so I decided
to make this. It’s definitely far from perfect, but I like it.


The amazing owner of WRandR!

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