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Wade listened intently to the pulsing pitter patter of the rain falling outside. How it clubbed down on the roof and slapped the side of the building. How it crashed like a symbol on the window and rung out like a low vibrating hum when it hit the fire escape.
Wade loved the sound of the rain. Because it drowned out the boxes.
[NO IT DOESN’T]
(You’re a jerk.)
{Give the poor guy a break will you, he’s hurting.}
Oh boy was he hurting. He was a mess. But to be fair, Wade always thought of himself as a mess. He always found it easy to bugger things up.
[That’s because he’s a fuck up. We’re all fuck ups]
{God, cut it out!!}
But he had truly done it this time. He’d upset the one person that truly mattered to him.
Peter.
Peter had been trying to calm him down, pull him out of the downward spiral he’d started spinning through, but Wade seemed to be losing the battle.
Peter had returned some hours ago from a meeting with a few of the other Avengers to find Wade locked in their shared bedroom. Wade refused to answer Peter’s pleas to let him in. Wade was unable to answer back, so consumed in his own mind. Peter’s efforts to get a word out of him from the other side of the door were fruitless. He was only sure that Wade was still alive after Peter heard him so audible gasp for breath between sobs.
The sound tore at Peter’s chest like the jaws of life through his ribcage. He had to resort to climbing in the window via the fire escape.
That was some hours ago now.
Wade was still miles away, curled up on his side of the bed in the fetal position, fighting himself in silence.
Peter curled up behind him, sliding himself into position, wrapping his arms around Wade and pulling the slightly larger man as close to him as he could. Peter snuggled in, finding the crook between Wade’s shoulder and neck just as comfortable as ever. He kissed over the scar tissue and looked forward out the window.
Wade’s face was reflected in the window pain. His gaze fixed on nothing. Just the cold, blank stare of a man lost inside his own mind. Peter choked down the fear that rose in his throat. His hand found its way to Wade’s stomach, caressing over the muscles and scars while his other hand held tight to his heart.
Wade could feel time slowing around him. His mind focused on the rain. The clatterous cacophony of noise numbing his soul. He felt himself melt away, utterly desensitize. He couldn’t recall if he’d seen Peter yet that day or not.
[THAT’S RIGHT YOU PANSY. SHUT DOWN SO YOU DON’T FEEL THE PAIN YOU DESERVE.]
(Classic Self-Preserva….)
Peter watched Wade’s reflection, worried evermore as the last signs of light left his eyes and the blank slate stare that frightened Peter so much took its place. The pain was gone, but so was the life behind it.
Wade’s breathing went from shallow to non-existent. Peter pressed his hand firmly to Wade’s chest, a strong, slow heartbeat pounding like a base drum under his palm. Peter cried, the silent tears falling onto Wade’s scars.
“Babe.. Please…. I just….I need you to let me in.”
Peter’s words tumbled out of their choke hold. He knew if he could just get through to Wade, get through all the thoughts that tore him down, he could begin to build him back up again, into the merc with a mouth he loved so much.
“Please Wade. I’m right here. Right beside you.”
Peter kept on, reassuring Wade that he was right there, fighting for him when he couldn’t fight for himself.
Peter tried to make him hear his voice, when all Wade could hear were the boxes.
[Would you listen to him, yammering on. Why he hasn’t left you I haven’t a clue. You’re so incredibly useless. Merc with a mouth and he can’t even speak. Love him in vain all you want, he doesn’t love you – love you – love you --]
Wade felt the boxes slowly disappearing, and was waiting for the deafening silence to take him to his beyond, but there was another box, another voice. One that didn’t belong to him and yet was his like the others were. The voice was relaxing and familiar. He trusted it without thought contrariwise. The voice was Peter. The only person Wade couldn’t live without.
Peter’s tears flowed along with his words, running down the inside of Wade’s neck, spilling over onto his chest making a bee-line to his heart and wrapping themselves around Wade’s head until they were all that Wade could hear or feel.
His heart rate hitched, bringing Peter out of a kiss to Wade’s shoulder to concentrate on the spike in activity. His breathing began to pick up, if only ever so slowly.
Peter smiled to himself. He would win this round. He would get his Wade back. His words were working, of that he had no doubt.
“That’s it Babe. Just breathe. Breathe and come back to me okay—“