Chapter Text
He was once again in his room, laying on his bed, bored. There was a small spider on the side of his bed, so he went out to grab it, play with it. Once it crawled on his hand, it bit him. It hurt. A lot. He shook his hand, to flick it off, but the spider grew in size. It became enormous, as big as him, even bigger. It bit down on his left hand, hard. The eight black eyes stared down his limp body. Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he say anything, scream out? The paralyzing venom in his skin burnt. His eyes itched. He could hear his own blood rushing to his head, his lungs desperately trying to filter his blood. His room was bright and his senses couldn't comprehend what was happening. The mask. He needed the mask. At least so his eyes wouldn't hurt anymore. But before he grabbed it, the giant spider leaned in to bite his face.
Peter woke up from that nightmare, panting, sweating, scared. He jolted up to make sure he was awake. The spider for sure wasn't there. Peter took off his pajama shirt, that was drenched in sweat. The cool air of his room felt like heaven to his skin and he laid back, trying to calm down.
"What the hell was this all about?" Peter's soft voice said in the silence, stating up at the upper bed. Breathe. That's what he needed to do. Breathe. Peter sighed and looked around his room. It was still dark, he realised. Probably around 4-5 am. He slowly, but surely calmed down. He decided to focus on his surroundings: the sweat on his body cooling off, the grandfather clock ticking softly, he could see the outlines of his Lego-
Peter stopped. Grandfather clock? He and Aunt May for sure didn't have one. His neighbors on the 5th floor did. Now that he thought about it, he usually could barely see anything in his room when it was dark, then why could he make out the figurines on his shelf now? That had it.
Peter reached for his suit, to go on an late-night-early-morning patrol. He stood up with a sigh and walked over to the light switch, almost tripping over his notebooks scattered across his floor. The young hero turned the light on, and shit, it hurt his eyes. He was used to the darkness, yeah, but this hurt way too much that it normally does. Peter squinted and what after felt like a minute, his eyes adjusted. Since when was his light that bright? He shook the thought off and undressed to put his suit on.
Once he hit his chest, below the Spider-Man logo, the once baggy costume perfectly fit around his body. He was greeted by the AI, Karen.
"Good morning, Peter! It appears you are awake 5 hours before your alarm. Why so?" She asked politely and Peter silently gasped. He looked at his clock, it was barely 1:28, but he didn't feel tired. "Morning, K! I kinda woke up from a nightmare" Peter replied, his voice slightly raspy.
"Do you want to talk about it?" The AI asked.
"No, thanks. I was hoping I can do a... late-night patrol." So much for the early morning.
"Oh, I see. Well, lets go." Karen said, she sounded happy in a way. Peter smiled from behind the mask and opened the window, turned off the light and jumped out of it, swinging off in the city.
✖
Swinging around his neighborhood always felt great, tonight was not an exception. The cold night breeze felt even better than usual. Some people still had their lights on, Peter wasn't surprised.
He got pretty far from his street when he noticed a man attacking a homeless person. Finally, some action. The teen swung down from the building he was on and webbed the attacker's hand before the man hit the poor girl. The man was in all black, apart from his face, which half of it was covered by a white cloth, hiding his mouth and nose.
"The fuck?" He yelled, dropping the female as she ran off into the dark alley. His voice smelled of alcohol, it was gross
"Didn't your mom tell you to not hit girls?" Peter joked, as the man pulled out a knife from his pocket with his free hand, poorly trying to swing it at him.
Something in Peter snapped. He wasn't sure why. Just that attempt of an attack made him want to beat up the man, to put him unconscious.
This was the first time it happened. The first time he lost control over his body. Peter punched the man in the stomach, hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling backwards, throwing the knife away. Hard enough for that man to actually puke. The eyes of the suit narrowed, as Spider-Man ran up to the attacker and web him down to the ground, slamming his head in his own vomit. The teen kicked him on the shoulder, dislocating it.
Just as he was about to take the knife and actually stab the man, Karen spoke.
"Peter! Your heart rate is through the roof! What are you doing!?" She partially yelled, sounding panicked and confused. Peter blinked a few times and looked at the man. Shit. He was bleeding from the nose, staining his mask to red and his eyes were watery, red, he was crying, pleading for his life. The smell of vomit was sickening.
Peter's body tensed. What was he doing? Why was he trying to kill the man? What the fuck!? He didn't ever want to kill anyone, why was he doing it now? He didn't understand.
Peter stepped back, feeling nauseous of what he had done. This wasn't right. A chocked "What the hell is wrong with you, asshole?" came out from the man. The homeless woman peeked out in shock. And all Peter did was run off, forgetting to even call the police. He shook his head, desperately trying to focus.
"Karen... what did I do?"
"You almost killed someone."