TW : hospitals, dysphoria, mention of death, dark thoughts

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All his body feels lifeless, sore, and his mind is way for Peter wanting to open his eyes. He doesn’t know where he is, but he wishes to be back in the darkness, already remembering what happened. He knows it wasn’t a nightmare, he can feel it, and he doesn’t want anyone to confirm it just yet. He feels disoriented, only aware of the warmth he is enveloped in, and of the light sounds he can hear. He does have an idea, but if he opens his eyes to see if he is right, he’s afraid to find himself being alone. He’s afraid that he would have lost them both. How would he do ?

The teen feels a light pressure on his hand, and he almost instantly blinks, restraining himself at the last moment. He just wants to stay like that a little longer. He just doesn’t feel ready to confront the reality yet. He likes the calm that provides him this state of mind. Of course, he still realizes the situation he is in, but he remains oblivious. He knows the signs, he already passed out before, just like he already has been admitted in hospital when he was younger. But even if it seems so similar as before, Peter knows it’s not. And that’s why he forces himself to avoid… he doesn’t really know what he avoids - probably life itself - but he still does. It’s almost like falling asleep, going back into a world of dreams, or a world of nothing ; he can’t decide what he prefers. But it will always be best than what is waiting for him in the reality.

At first, he acts without realizing it. His eyes blinks, burning and brows furrowing under the brightness of the room and the light. He moves his head, almost yawning, not seeing the women asleep by his side - maybe he does it incouscly, avoiding her and the memories from last night. He changes of position, tries to stretch, and end chewing the inside of his cheek, annoyed by the feeling of his dry mouth. His eyes wander around the room, and he takes the time to note mentally every single detail. On his right side, sitting in a chair, aunt May is asleep, her coat on top of her as a blanket. She looks peaceful, though her cheeks are stained with the trace of dried tears. In the corner, he can see another chair, with a purse and what he recognizes as his stuff sitting on it - backpack, chocolate, jacket, hoodie and even the blades. 

His eye widden almost instantly when he understands what misses. With hesitation, he raises his hand to his chest, closing his eyes firmly and touches lightly. He frowns, feeling the lumps that are not supposed to be there. He should have known it the second he understood he was in a hospital bed : they would never let his binder on, one because you should never sleep in it, and second because it was obvious he was wearing it for way too long.

Without controlling it, he tries to find the position permitting him to note less his lack of flatness, his ribs aching and making him whimper because of the pain as he does so. His eyes start getting teary, and he does his best to not let it all out. But the images of what happened are burning his retina and won’t leave him, the guilt makes his way into his heart - everything is jostling in his head. And now that he knows his binder is missing, it seems like everything is too much. He isn’t stupid, he is well aware of what doctors have to do when they receive a blacked out patient who is binding, he is well aware he will probably not be able to bind for the next couple of month. How would he ? They obviously had to cut his binder to get him out of it.

He bites hard in his bottom lip, silently suffering. He wishes he would have disappeared last night, he wishes it was him and not uncle Ben, he wishes he didn’t fight with aunt May, he wishes he told her all about Flash and his idiots of friends, he wishes he could have make everything different, he wishes -
He feels a hand pressing his shoulders as he lets out a sob, giving up.

Everything is too much for him to bear, and he hates himself so much. He hates himself for everything that happened, he hate himself because he wasn’t able to do something about it, to save the one who was a father to him ; he’s just disgusted with himself. And he can’t find the strength to appreciate the hug aunt May is now offering him, he can’t even return it, only moving to the side and curling on himself in the bed. His chest tightened, breathing aches but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even know if he would be able to talk - between the sobs and the soreness of his throat, nothing is expected. He can only cry, cry, and cry. He wishes he could just cry himself to sleep, but he knows he will not be able to sleep before a long time ; and he really can’t go back right now, he has to be here, even just for May.

“Shush,” the woman whispers in his ear, her voice cracking a little, “shush honey, I’m right here, it’s gonna be okay.” And he cries even more.

It’s not going to be okay, he is certain about that. And he hates that she is lying to him because he’s not a kid anymore, he understands what happened, he understands hat it means, and he understands how it will be from now on. Their trio is reduced to only the two of them, and he really doesn’t know if he can support it. He doesn’t even know is his aunt still wants him in their house, with her. He doesn’t know anything about the future, except there will be pain, so much pain. He shouldn’t be afraid of it - suffering doesn’t scare him at all, he is used to it by now - but he can’t help himself.

Everything is cold inside and outside of him, and he only can think about how Flash will obviously find a way to make him even more guilty of his uncle’s death, to make his appear as the murderer in front their all school. And he doesn’t think he can handle that ; he already struggles too much with the weight of his parents’ absence, how is he supposed to also carry the one of his uncle’s ? 

“Peter,” May cries softly over and over again, “calm down love, we’re going to be fine”. And the teen doesn’t know who she tries to make believe this - himself or herself ?

Taking his time, he moves again in order to face her, hiding his head in the crook of her neck.

He can’t control the next sob, calling her weakly, “Aunt May…”.

She pats his head, and he is certain he can feel her smile in his hair. He grips her tee shirt tightly, crying harder - in fact, he is almost screaming and he feels like he’s losing everything. His whole body hurts, his lungs, his heart, his throat, his head, everything is out of his control. He feels even less in charge of his body than usual, almost watching the scene from above themselves, and it hurts. It hurts because he feels so much yet he’s so empty, because there is so much pain yet he feels like there is nothing. It’s like a game, and his cries are no longer cries of pain but more cries for help. He is craving for someone to help him, to take him out of there, to change everything - him, his uncle’s death, his life, everything. 

The worst is, it’s all in his head. It has to be all in his head. Every single problem he has with himself, his body, it’s in his head. Every time he feels his heart tightening, it has to be in his heart. Every time he shivers under a new wave of imaginary cold, it is in his head. Everything is, but everything feels so real, and he doesn’t know how to fight against it. How is he supposed to cope, to react ? It’s like he is all by myself, even more alone than before, and it’s horrible. 

He hates being lonely, he hates being lonely around others, he hates not feeling loved, he hates feeling so empty yet so full, he hates being that confused, he hates that he stills thinks about himself in this situation, he hates being this selfish, he hates being alive, he -

“Hey, hey, Peter, calm down,” his aunt interrupts his thoughts, her voice less shaky than before, way clearlier. “You have to breath okay ? Just like when you did it with uncle Ben okay ? Can you do this for me ?”

He knows, of course he knows he has to breathe - he is well aware he is starting to have a panic attack - but he never manages to calm himself down without the man by his sides. And hearing his name, just like he was still there, hurts so much he doesn’t want to breathe anymore. 

But he does it, eventually. He does it, only for May’s sake. because she doesn’t deserve to see him like that, because Peter doesn’t want to scare her and hurt her even more. Because he knows for a fact he already caused too much problems to his family and it’s time for him to stop. So he does. He follows the way her chest moves, trying to breathe with the same rhythm, trying to focus on the sound of her voice, on the feeling of her tee shirt in his hand, he concentrates on everything he can to not drive himself mad. Oh, the teen knows he’s a helpless case, he knows he probably already is crazy, but he can’t give up now, not in front of the last member of his family, not in this situation, just not now.  He would feel like a coward if he let it all out, properly losing his mind, now. He has to be strong, because Ben is not here anymore and Peter know how May manages to still breath knowing the love of her life disappeared because of her own nephew. He can just admire her, and be strong in case she will just drop everything and break down. He has to be her rock now, just like uncle Ben was for them both.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaks in a little voice, sniffing, “I couldn’t do anything.”

Of course it is a bad idea, apologizing now, but he had to get this off his chest. He had to let her know. If he could, if he thought she could handle knowing the whole event, he would tell her right this instant. But it would break her, and he refuses to be the cause of another one of her trouble.

“I know,” his aunt nodded in a soft voice, “I know dear, and it’s okay. I know it. I know you, Peter. I know you did all you could. You don’t have to feel guilty.” She sweetly pats his hairs, loosening her grip on his shoulder in order to be able to see him. She offers him a smile, and the teen knows it’s not a happy smile, but she seems so… relieved, and he can’t get why.

He wipes the tears of his cheeks, looking back at her, restraining himself from crying again. If only she knew what happened down there at the grocery store, if only she realized it was all his fault… His heart aches at the thought, she would hates him even more.

“Don’t apologize honey,” she speaks again before he can answer something, still smiling at him, “don’t apologize for something you are not responsible of. You are not the one who pulled the trigger, nor are you the one that forced Ben to go in this store.”

He nods slightly, forcing himself not to look away. He wants to disapprove, to tell her it’s all his fault, that he shouldn’t have gone in the first place but he can’t find the strength. So he stays quiet, trying to smile at his aunt, trying to show her he is here now, he is here with her and he will never let her all alone, until the day she will physically force him to go. He will never let her down again.

I hope you liked this third part, still one more to go and it will be the second chapter.
Stay safe and hydrate,
H.