Work Text:
Peter stares at the wall.
He’s tired. So tired, so tired. He hasn’t eaten. He feels sick. He stares at the wall.
He should be at school. He’s late. He’s missed three classes, by now. He didn’t do his homework. He didn’t eat. Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. Or maybe he slept too much. He can’t remember, can’t remember what day it is. May isn’t home. He feels like crying. He doesn’t move.
He’s so tired.
His chest feels cold. Too hot. Too cold . He blinks, slowly, and breathes in just as slowly. He can’t feel his face, outside of the mindless buzzing of his numb nerves.
His phone vibrates. Once, twice, a third time.
Oh.
Someone’s calling him.
He swallows, looks down. It’s Ned. His eyes are wet. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he lets out a dry sob.
“Ned?” he whispers, upon answering the phone.
“Peter? You missed the first half of the day. I’m skipping study hall. Are you sick? Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”
Peter closes his eyes. He feels warm and cold and–his hands are shaking. It’s later than he thought. Past noon, if Ned should be in study hall. He can barely breathe. “No. No, no. I–I don–don’t–I don’t…can’t…”
“I’m coming over. Have you eaten?” At Peter’s disagreeing hum, Ned sighs. “Okay. Can you stomach solid foods? Or–no, I’ll get you a smoothie. You need the sugar. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. I’m gonna have Betty grab the notes from your business class, okay? MJ and I have the rest covered.”
He’s such a fuck-up, he’s–
He takes a deep breath.
“Okay.”
He sounds so small.
He doesn’t notice when Ned speaks again, hangs up. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he looks up to see Ned in his doorway, a plastic bag gripped in his right hand, his backpack in his left.
“Hey,” Ned says, and he sounds so soft, so warm, and Peter blinks. He swallows, his throat dry. “Wanna watch Shameless?”
Peter shrugs.
It’s twenty minutes later, sipping on a smoothie, cuddling Ned while the show plays so quiet it’s almost on mute on Ned’s laptop that Peter finally sighs.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”