Bruce didn't answer for way too long, adjusting his glasses with a frown.

"No, no. We're just taking precautions and checking each Avenger that went to space for potential brain damage or circulatory abnormalities." Bruce assured Peter eventually, who's heart stopped beating so fast it hurt.

"For sure. Okay, th-that's okay." Peter stammered, earning a concerned gaze from the doctor.

He staggered over to the bed, relief coursing through his veins. He sat on the edge of the cot, feet tapping nervously on the floor. He was quite sure Bruce pretended not to notice.

"So, uh, is everyone else okay, after...you know," Peter trailed off, heat creeping up his neck at the lame attempt at making conversation. Maybe wasn't the best topic to talk about, especially now. Bruce gave him a comforting smile, while he retrieved a few needles and a stethoscope from the chest of drawers next to the door.

"Well, Peter, apart from the obvious, everyone seems to be doing okay." Bruce replied softly, choosing his words carefully. Pete nodded, cracking his knuckles.

"I think...it's more the mental stability we all need to watch out for."

That's what Peter was waiting for. The comfort that he wasn't the only one suffering. Some people got banged up pretty bad, him included, but all the lasting pain was psychological. Something that couldn't be mended by a cast or medicine. Maybe something that could only heal over time. But, still, he wasn't the only one.

"How've you been holding up?" Peter asked Bruce, who let out a breath of spiteful laughter, surveying his feet.

"I think I have a few...permanent green veins." The doctor sighed, disappointment in himself shown clearly on his face. "Nothing I can't handle though, of course. I've learnt rather good self-control – I did spend a lot of time with Thor, in the past year or so." He added when he saw Peter shift uncomfortably where he sat, eyes wide.

"Oh-oh yeah, 'course. Thor." Peter stuttered, squeezing his lips together embarrassedly.

"And you, Peter?" Bruce bent over in front of Peter, gently pulling the boy's arm to him.

Peter didn't answer for a while, watching with fake interest as Bruce gently prodded the soft part of the inside of Peter's elbow, finding the right place to stick the needle in. When he inserted it, Peter let out a sharp breath at the sting.

"I, uh, yeah. I-I'm good." He answered eventually, knowing his lie wouldn't be missed by the scientist before him. Speaking of, Bruce sent him an unamused glare, eyebrows raised sceptically.

"Okay, lie down for a moment, I just need to check for circula-"

"-tory abnormalities." Peter finished, lying back down. Bruce smiled again, as he plugged the earpieces in.

"Just breathe deeply." Then Bruce leant over with the stethoscope, and Peter lifted up the hem of his shirt, doing as he was told.

As expected, Bruce had the same reaction as Tony had.

Peter's torso, spreading from his right hip to just below his left shoulder, was a diagonal line of mottled skin. Purple-ish, green-ish and black bruises littered his body, as well as countless scars, still burning white underneath the bruises. Peter pushed his head further into the pillow, feeling shame at Bruce's expression.

"Uh, okay, um...deep breath?" Bruce said uncertainly, very softly pressing the diaphragm of the stethoscope onto the rare patch of skin the wasn't just ruined tissue. Peter breathed in deeply, ignoring the flash of pain in his ribs that were bound to never go away, and Bruce moved the stethoscope around a few times, checking.

Once the scientist pulled away, he gave Peter a relieved, comforting smile.

"Physically, you're doing surprisingly well. Of course, there's still," he gestured to Peter's torso, as the boy pulled down his shirt, "this problem, but that will heal over time. Luckily, your brain wasn't damaged, or your heart." Bruce paused, patting Peter's shoulder, a frown on his face.

"You're a lucky kid, Mr Parker." He stated. "It could've been a lot worse." He removed his hands from Peter, getting up and packing everything down. He put the blood tests into a refrigerator cabinet, probably so he could analyse it further.

But Peter felt anything but lucky.

...

"Hey, it's MJ, give me a call back when I actually feel like talking to you, Parker." Michelle's bored voice echoed through Peter's phone.

He rolled his eyes. "Michelle, please, it's important."

"Fine. What?" She replied, and Peter could hear the annoyance in her voice.

"I was just hoping we could talk about the drawing, like, real quick?" Peter asked, feeling stupid at the request. He knew what MJ would say, but he wanted to be sure. Sure that she hadn't seen as much as she'd implied.

"Not really the sort of thing you talk about over the phone." Michelle mumbled grouchily, and Peter felt heat rise into his cheeks.

"Uh, yeah, 'course. I mean, you could come over or someth-!"

"You come to me if you're so desperate to talk."

Peter bit his lip, nodding, before he remembered she wouldn't be able to see him. "Okay." He squeaked, hearing MJ snicker from down the line. His face burnt stronger.

She hung up, without saying goodbye.

Peter got up from where he sat on his bed, rubbing a hand wearily over his eyes. They stung. Dragging himself to his wardrobe, he threw a denim jacket over his hoodie and stomped on a pair of trainers. He then grabbed his backpack, that he took with him everywhere these days – just in case. He made sure his old suit was in there before he strode to the door, slinging the pack over his shoulder. He was about to leave, when he stopped.

He found his gaze wandering back to the drawing on his bedside table. He leant towards it, grabbing it and stuffing it in his bag, too.

"Hey, May?" He called out, as he pulled his door shut behind him.

"Yes, sweetheart?" She replied, raising her eyebrows at Peter when she looked around the corner from inside the kitchen.

"I'm just going over to MJ's." He stated, ignoring the way his aunt's eyebrows rose even higher. "I'll be back before dinner." He added, like it might give her some more comfort.

"Okay, just make sure you text me when you get there." She smiled, bringing him into a hug. Peter wrapped his arms around his aunt, a part of his brain telling him never to let go – he wasn't sure why. He stayed in the embrace for a minute longer, frowning slightly.

May was the one to pull away.

"You sure you're alright, Peter?" She asked, one hand on his shoulder – holding him at arm's length like she was surveying him – and the other brushing away a stray hair from his eyes.

Peter nodded, casting his eyes to the floor. "Yeah, I-I'm fine." He whispered, knowing May wouldn't believe him. No one would. He didn't believe him either.

"Sure," May said, giving him a small smirk, "we'll talk later." She patted his shoulder and he returned her smile.

He walked to the front door, feeling his heart racing and hearing it pump in his ears like in a movie. Something was telling him not to leave, but he wasn't sure if it was his spidey-sense or just his paranoia.

"Have fun!" He heard Aunt May call from the kitchen and he opened the door.

Immediately the air from the lobby whooshed through his hair and the faint, classical music met his ears calmingly. He took a deep breath, hoping the familiarity of his home would also calm his thoughts, before shutting his small apartment door closed behind him.

"Good afternoon, Mr Parker! A bit late to be going out, don't you think?" Said the man at the front desk.

"Uh, no, I'm just gonna-!" Peter began, annoyed.

"Do teenager things." The man interrupted, rolling his eyes. "No wonder the streets are so dodgy. Teenagers, honestly."

Peter ignored him, only sent him an angry glare, as he strode out of the automatic doors. The man had liked Aunt May for a while, and when he'd finally gotten the guts to ask her out for a coffee, she had very much declined the offer.

She said she didn't like the scars on the side of his face.

Once out in the cold afternoon, Peter wandered through the streets, not really thinking at all.

He had stopped thinking just after space. He'd found it easier to live that way. His nightmares were horrendous, and he hadn't gotten any sleep for a good seventy-two hours before he came up with the idea. And once he had just stopped listening to the thoughts, they had eventually faded, along with the night terrors and the extreme emotion and fatigue and whatever else came with it.

Sometimes, though, the crept up on him. Like, when the moons not out, and it's extra dark. Or when the stars are too bright, and he can see the milky way and that damn place up there called space. Sometimes they come unexpectedly, and when they do, he has no idea what to do about it.

Tell Ned, or May? They would worry excessively, which would only make him freak out more and think he's going insane.

Tell Michelle? He's literally scared of the dark, that would mean an endless amount of teasing and sarcasm.

Tell...tell Tony?

Peter physically shook his head at the idea. He couldn't tell Tony. But his brain frantically searched for an excuse as to why.

The man had anxiety. The man had been to space twice and survived, both times by the skin of his teeth. He had had to watch the love of his life and his friend nearly die, and yet he was still alive and well and...happy? He was happy, right?

Maybe Pete didn't want to tell Tony Stark, because he wanted to seem strong. He couldn't bare to disappoint the man again. But they should be past that by now – he knew Tony was over it. Tony treated him like family, but Peter found it hard to accept that. Every man in Peter's life ended up dead. Every father-figure he became attached to left him one way or another. Peter knew he wouldn't be able to cope if Tony left him as well. So maybe, it wasn't worth the risk.

"Oops, sorry!" Peter exclaimed as he tripped over someone's legs, sticking out over the path.

Pulled from his thoughts abruptly, he followed the legs to the body leaning against the cement wall of some tyre-manufacturing warehouse, and apologetic but curious look on his face.

But his jaw hit the floor, in shock.

"I'm...sorry." He whispered the second word, eyes wide in fear. His heart was ramming up against his ribs and he tried desperately to calm his frantic breaths. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man.

"Ah, that's quite okay, young man." The man replied, and Peter's stomach boiled in anger. This man should be in jail. He should be in jail, for betraying Mr Stark, he should be in there for life, he didn't deserve to roam free ever again, yet...here he was.

Ross glared into Peter's eyes, confusion and something else the boy couldn't quite place on his face. Peter closed his mouth, looking down quickly. He had to act normal – it wasn't like Ross knew who he really was.

"Are you okay, kid?" Thaddeus Ross asked, never losing the eye contact. Peter nodded awkwardly, chewing on his lip. The man's eyes flitted to Peter's bag, to his own watch, then back to Peter's face.

"You stay safe on these streets, boy. Don't know what kind of mutants you might come across." Ross said, eyes drilling into Peter's once again with such force that Peter couldn't look away. That was a very specific warning.

"I-yeah...yeah, thanks." Peter stuttered quietly, his throat tightening. Then Ross smiled, and Peter let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. Tearing his eyes away, just as the man did the same, Peter hitched his bag over his shoulder more, scuttling down the pathway toward the train station.

The station was bustling with people, because of the peak-hour rush. Many men and woman in formal attire and a few hipster-like people with their Hawaiian shirts and golden necklaces. The Bliss Street stations were always busy, no matter what time of day it was, though. Peter pushed his way through the crowds and crowds of people thronging around him. Most of them were on their phones – some of them playing games and other actually phoning. You could tell one someone was talking to friends or family because they say things like "thank you, darling" or "I'll see you later, babe" and their voice is all like, sickly sweet and kind. But you can also tell one someone's on a work call, because they never smile, and their voice is cold and exterior, and you never know what they're really thinking.

Okay, so Peter was definitely trying to distract himself from the insane claustrophobia he was getting from being stuck in this place with so many freaking people-

Okay, okay, breathe, he told himself multiple times as he continued to wade through people. Finally, he reached the front of the crowd, close to the train tracks. He chewed on his nail nervously, waiting impatiently for a train to hurry up and come, so he could get to the other side of Queens, where MJ lived. He stood there for a good ten minutes, listening to everyone's strange conversations.

But then his spider-senses blared, like a siren wailing in his mind, telling him that there was some sort of danger and that he should get away as soon as he could – telling him there was someone directly behind him; someone he didn't like.

He turned around quickly, eyes frantically searching each face of everyone remotely near him until his eyes fell upon a familiar face.

Here we go, Peter thought bitterly.

"Penis Parker!" Flash drawled, casting him an evil smirk. Peter looked away, clenching his jaw in anger. He could sense his archenemy come closer, and he felt his shoulders tense up a bit, his body ready to fight but his mind telling him no.

"What, gone back to your usual self?" Flash taunted, and Peter shivered when he felt Flash's warm breath on his neck. Peter turned to face the teen, taking a step backwards-

Backwards toward the edge of the platform.

But Flash continued forward, smirking toothily. "I preferred the Parker that fought back." He whispered, face leering.

"Go away." Peter mumbled, stumbling a few more steps. He'd now crossed that yellow line your parents always tell you not to cross, just in case a train comes.

"At least that Parker had gut. This one, though," Flash sneered, pointing a finger at Peter, "this one's weak. This one can't even sleep at night." Flash laughed ostentatiously, advancing so close to Peter that they were nearly touching. Peter gulped, blinking quickly to clear up the mist in his eyes. People were turning to stare now, their eyes wide in confusion, but none of them stepped forward to help.

"I said, go away!" Peter yelled, anger flushing his cheeks. Flash paused for a moment, seeming to deliberate his choices. Then, he decided, much to Peter's doom.

The first fist landed on Peter's stomach. Peter dropped to the floor, crying out in pain once he'd got his breath back from being winded. Peter scrambled back on all fours, not taking his eyes off of Flash. His fingers touched the edge of the platform, and he spun his head to realise that he couldn't move back any further without falling onto the platform. Peter's chest heaved.

"Fight back!" Flash yelled, spitting at Peter's feet. Peter's whole body trembled with the urge, but he didn't. He couldn't.

Flash hit him again, but this time, his fist landed on Peter's face, right on his temple.

It happened in a blur. One moment he was on the platform, the next, he was falling-

And pain was shooting through his head-

And his vision darkened for a second-

Then he could see again, but-

But there were lights-

Coming right for him from where he landed on the tracks-

People were screaming-

He scrunched up his eyes, waiting for the impact-

But it never came.

Instead, he felt a hand close around the shirt over his chest, tugging him up with a grunt of effort. He landed back, safely, on the platform, just as the train screeched to a halt.

The whole station was silent.

"You gotta be careful, kid." A voice said from somewhere above him, but the adrenaline and blood coursing through him, meant he couldn't focus on anything right now.

Peter blinked against the darkness, once the hand left his chest and the chatter slowly began again. He managed to blink away enough confusion to be able to see again, strangely feeling no pain in any part of his body, apart from his back – of which he had landed brutally on when he had hit the tracks. The man who had saved him was already walking away.

A lady with her pram came running up to Peter, holding his shoulders in worry.

"Are you okay, dear?" She asked worriedly. Peter nodded, too distracted by trying to find the man.

"You must have been having an anxiety attack – you just fell off!" She exclaimed, concern on her face. Peter shook his head, confused.

"N-no...no, Flash, he-he punched me..." Peter trailed off, suddenly realising his classmate was nowhere to be seen. Like he had just dissolved.

"No one was punching you, dear." The lady said solemnly, trepidation on her brow, now that she realised she's probably dealing with some teen on drugs, getting hallucinations and a death wish.

But Peter wasn't listening. Had Flash even been there? Or had it really just been a panic attack? No wonder he felt no pain from the swings. Maybe he really was going crazy.

He got to his feet, eyes still searching the onlookers. But there was a commotion, a bit further back, that drew his attention.

A man – Peter could only see the back of his head – shoving his way quickly through the crowds. Peter squinted, his heart jumping when he realised-

He recognised that head of tight, black curls.

--

I'm sorry it took so long to update :( I feel like the last chapter was so underwhelming compared to the first, and like, this book has become real boring real quick but I WILL NOT GIVE UP lol.

Oh, and who is the 'tight black curls' guy, I wonder???

i would larbbb to hear your theories.

also...1.8 thousand reads on lacuna?? absolutely incredible, thank you so much, you've no idea how happy i am wow-

two more things: 

1. I have another (one-shot) story, called 'billions' and it's also Peter Parker based - but it has severe trigger warning for mental instability and suicidal thoughts. but, i really encourage you to read it if you suffer from these things - as long as it won't make anything worse, of course.

2. I finally have a peter parker/tom holland fan acc on insta (the name: @spideychellehoco) so if you wanna go check it, feel free!

Anyway, that's all for now. bye bye, bbys

LuvForStydia xx

(OH AND I'M WATCHING INFINITY WAR TOMORROW WISH ME LUCK I MIGHT NOT UPDATE FOR A WHILE BECAUSE I WILL EITHER BE DEAD OR CRYING ENDLESSLY BYE NOW)