Chapter Text
September 2016
Left foot 5372 – right foot 5373
Left foot 5374 – right foot 5375
School has ended a few minutes ago and Peter is walking out of the last class of the day, with Ned at his side.
Peter is counting. His mind is focused on the steps that he has taken so far today.
Focusing on the things he is doing, or the things he can count around himself – cracks on the ceiling, stairs, letters on the worksheet, tiles on the floor – have helped Peter a lot in the past few days, since things have gone so terribly wrong. Helped him to not think about those things, that is.
Everything about Homecoming has left him tired.
(Tired, restless, fatigued.)
But he can not let himself think about those things.
He has to focus on the things around him, to not be taken over by the things inside him. It is a practical method, keeps his mind occupied. At least when he is awake.
When he is asleep, however, he can not push anything away, can not focus his mind on other things. When he is asleep the events of that night come back, crashing him, with great force.
Most nights he is drowning. There is so much water around him, it is all he can see. Peter keeps trying to swim, but he is always pulled back down. He can not breathe.
Some nights he is pulling the ship together, forcing it to not drift apart, with all his strength. His arms and his back feel like they are going to rip apart. He is pulling and pulling but there is no use. He can not catch his breath.
The worst ones are the nights when he is back under the building. There is darkness all around him. Nothing but darkness. Not even a glimmer of light. He can feel the building crushing him. Pushing more and more of the breath out of his lungs. He does not fight back those nights , wants it to be over, lets the pain in, but it never helps. Only makes it worse. He can feel his ribs crack and his bones shatter. His lungs hurt so much. He can not breathe.
Those nights are the hardest. Peter always wakes up in a cold sweat, never shouting or crying. He can hear someone breathing in far too fast, hyperventilating. It takes him a moment to realize that it is him. It take another few minutes to stop. His lungs are aching and he is gasping, trying to get as much air into them as possible.
Until he feels light headed. Until his throat hurts and the tears run down his face and he goes back to counting the cracks in the walls and the letters in the books on his night stand.
The first night, after, he tried to read but he never managed to make any sense of it all and flashes of his dreams kept popping up in his mind. That was when he decided to count instead.
It's something that Ben taught him when his parents died. He told him to focus on the things around him to stay from drifting away into memories and pain, when it feels like too much to bear.
Peter has liked numbers back then and he still likes numbers now. They are easy to understand.
Easier than fear. Easier than pain. Easier than panic.
Sometimes he counts the words of people around him. Ned has said 234 words so far today. Not a lot. More than on Friday. He only said 89 words on Friday. Peter wonder s how many words Ned used to say before , for a brief moment but he doesn't let his mind wander. A wandering mind is not safe.
Left foot 5432 – right foot 5433
Left foot 5434 – right foot 5435
Numbers and letters. Counting them. Adding them up. That feels safe.
Ned stops walking abruptly and looks at Peter, after they had gone down the stairs and were standing in front of school. Ned's eyes looked tired.
(Peter is so tired. Because he can not go to sleep. Because when sleep does overtake him, after hours of counting letters, of trying to stay awake, it never lasts. Always leaves him more tired than he was before.)
“Do you want to come over to build some Lego?”, Ned asks softly. (244 words)
He is being very soft with Peter in general, ever since that day. Always taking care of Peter. Talking to him, even when Peter does not reply most of the time. Sitting with him at lunch, even though Peter can not get himself to eat anything most days. Handing him granola bars and candies, when Peter's mind gets fuzzy and he feels like he might pass out.
“Sorry”, Peter says, his voice coming out hoarse from misuse. “I've got to help May.” (37 words)
It is not technically a lie. May had asked Peter to bring out the trash, when he got home.
She was being very soft with him, too. The first few days she left him be in his room, had brought him sandwiches and snacks.
Now she tries to treat him the same way she did before. Asking him to sit with her for dinner, asking him to bring out the trash, talking to him, when she comes home. She is behaving the was she always did. The problem is that Peter doesn't feel like he used to.
Even though things around him go on as usual, he feels like he isn't really a part of them anymore.
Like spending time with Ned. It doesn't feel the same anymore. It is hard. As much as Ned tries to go back to how things were before, he sends him looks full of worry and Peter doesn't know what to do about those.
They haven't started walking again and Peter can feel a mix of something rise inside himself. He starts to feel dizzy, so he turned his eyes towards the road and starts to count the tires of the cars.
After 24 tires Ned talks again.
“Alright”, Ned says. He pulls his backpack in front of himself and grabbed a granola bar out of one of the side pockets and pushes it into Peter's hand. “Here, take this.” (248 words)
“Thanks”, Peter says, glancing at Ned for a moment. Worry is written all over his best friend's features. It makes Peter's stomach turn. He looks back to the cars. 32 tires. (38 words)
“Of course”, Ned says, putting his backpack back on. “And, well”, the boy hesitates. Peter glances at him again. Ned seems to look at one of the windows of school. “I just wanted to let you know that I am here, okay? If there is anything you need, or if you need to talk. I am here. Okay?”
Peter stops his counting for a moment, he can feel heat rise in his throat and behind his eyes, and looks at his friend. He opens his mouth, but all he can think about is not being able to breathe. He looks back to the road.
277 words, he thinks , 277 words and 46 tires.
“Ned”, is all Peter can manage to say, looking back at the boy next to himself, before there is a loud honk.
Peter looks at the gray car, that has pulled up in front of school. A five seater, with bumper stickers on the rear window and boxes on the back seats.
A young woman, with a blue scarf around her head and glasses, is sitting behind the wheel. The window closest to them is rolled down.
(50 tires)
“Hey, Potter”, she calls. “Let me take you for a ride.”