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It’s not that his life has been miserable. Of course not. It can’t be miserable. He’s Spider-Man. He finally has a stable support system. He’s gotten closer with Gwen in a way he wasn’t sure it would be possible. So why does he feel like it’s hard to breathe sometimes? Why does he keep waking up in a tub full of blood and his wrists healed over?
It feels like a sick addiction. Knowing that he can hurt himself and it’ll all heal and go away. That he can bring himself so close to death just for it all to go away. The euphoric feeling of making himself bleed. He knows he’s sick in the head, it makes him feel like a teenager all over again.
He tries to stop. He really does. As Gwen begins to spend the nights, it’s harder and harder to hide the fact that he’s doing this to himself. He wishes she would leave, go away and leave him alone. Sometimes he gets so desperate that he sneaks away to the bathroom after she falls asleep just to cut himself.
He doesn’t know why he does it. He really doesn’t. He is finally happy, right? He’s finally happy and he still can’t stop hurting himself, making himself hurt. He doesn’t know who to tell or who to talk to. Frank? He can’t keep giving Frank more burdens. The man has his own life now, Peter can’t do this to Frank.
He feels his arm itching but curses when he notices that Gwen is sleeping on his arm. He feels his throat closing up, he just wants Gwen to leave. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t have her here. Having her here makes everything ten times more complicated for him. He can’t just disappear, go away and sit on top of the Empire State building with her around.
Gwen still doesn’t know that he’s Spider-Man. He’s been lying to her that he’s taking night classes at a community college. The way she smiles and tells him how proud she is of him is burned into his mind. He almost considers finally getting his GED to take the classes. He’s not sure if he’s ever going to tell Gwen about Spider-Man. He knows it’s not realistic but he just can’t bring himself to even think about telling her. Not after everything that happened with MJ.
He feels guilty when he misses MJ. He knows that he shouldn’t because he’s with Gwen now but MJ was everything Gwen wasn’t. He feels like a horrible and sick person for feeling the way he does. He tries to cut the sickness out of him.
He takes a deep breath, letting tears run down to the side of his face as he stares at the ceiling. He takes a couple of shaky deep breaths before slowly pulling his arm under Gwen’s head and sitting up.
Gwen stirs in her sleep before slowly blinking and yawning after noticing Peter sitting up. She slowly sits up as well before placing her head on Peter’s back, leaning on him.
“Why are you awake?” Gwen mumbles, half-awake.
Peter tries to speak but his throat feels like it’s being cut by a barbwire, he knows he’s going to cry.
“Peter,” Gwen mumbles again before yawning and sitting up straighter, more awake this time. “What’s wrong, babe?”
Peter places his head in his hands before breaking down, softly sobbing.
Gwen hugs him from the back, placing her head on Peter’s shoulder, “What’s wrong?”
“M’ just tired,” Peter lies, biting his cheek to stop himself from sobbing. He sniffles, “Sorry for waking you up.”
Gwen sighs before softly grabbing Peter’s head to make him face her. She wipes his tears before offering him a soft smile, “You don’t have to apologize. Do you want some water?”
Peter shakes his head, “Let’s just go back to sleep.”
Gwen nods, “Okay.”
Peter lies down, with his back turned to Gwen. He lets silent tears fall when Gwen hugs him and places a kiss on his shoulder. Why does she care about him so much?
Can I come over?
“What’s the occasion today, kid?” Frank greets Peter after opening the door.
“Just wanted to talk,” Peter answers with a shrug before entering the apartment.
Frank closes the door behind them before pulling Peter into a quick hug and ruffles his hair, “Want me to make you some coffee? A bear?”
Peter shakes his head, “I’m okay.”
Frank turns his head slightly to the right before humming, “What happened? Accidentally kill a drug lord or something? It’s fine, it happens to the best of us.”
Peter chuckles at Frank’s attempt at humor before sitting down on the couch, “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay, you’re scaring me, kid,” Frank says, sitting down on the couch as well. “Feel like I might have to DVR my ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?’”
Peter rolls his eyes, “You’re such a loser for watching that show.”
“Wow, you really must be in a bad mood to betray me like that,” Frank says, clutching his chest to be dramatic. He notices Peter’s mood before quickly sitting up straight, “Okay, I’ll be serious, what’s up?”
“Do you ever think about your wife?” Peter asks. “Even though you’re with Karen now.”
Frank’s smile slowly fades and he clears his throat, “Yeah– I mean… yeah, everyday.”
“Do you feel guilty?”
Frank stays silent for a moment before speaking, “Ah, kid what is it with these questions? Here to be my therapist today?”
Peter sighs, scratching his thumb, “I think about MJ.”
“Your girlfriend before Gwen?” Frank clarifies.
Peter nods, “I mean I know it’s not the same thing as losing your wife. She was just my high school girlfriend but it just feels so…”
“Incomplete?” Frank asks.
“I still can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw her, how I lied to her that I would come and find and tell her everything that happened,” Peter scoffs at himself. “I can’t stop thinking that she knew everything about me that Gwen doesn’t. How she is everything that Gwen isn’t.”
“Peter-”
Peter cuts Frank off, “I know that makes me like a horrible person and stuff but I can’t help it. No matter how much support Gwen gives me, it’s just not the same.”
“Kid, having emotions does not make you a bad person,” Frank assures. “Even with the support and love that Karen provides me, I still do think about my wife. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. The lack of closure is always going to make you think about MJ, but that does not make you a bad person. You love Gwen, right?”
Peter nods.
“But you just love her in a different way. MJ might have given you the comfort you needed as a 16-year-old kid who was Spider-Man. But Gwen is the woman you love as a 20-year-old man. Of course, she isn’t going to provide you the same comfort that MJ did, but she does, doesn’t she?”
Peter nods, thinking about the way Gwen held him last night.
“I just want to stop thinking about MJ and everyone from my life before. They’re not dead but I feel like they are,” Peter admits.
“The truth is, you can’t stop thinking about it, but you gotta move on. You owe everyone in your life that. To keep living,” Frank explains.
Peter nods, internalizing everything Frank is saying to him, “Yeah, that makes sense. Makes a lot of sense.”
Frank scans Peter’s body language before softly placing his hand on Peter’s, “Why are you scratching yourself, kid?”
Peter flinches from the touch, moving back a little, “What?”
“You’re scratching the back of your hand so hard that you’re bleeding,” Frank points out.
“Oh that,” Peter says, looking down. He looks back up at Frank before offering the man an awkward smile, “It’s just a bad habit.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’ll heal on its own. It’ll be like it never even happened,” Peter tries to assure Frank.
Frank shakes his head, “Let me put a bandage on it.”
Peter sighs before nodding at first but then he quickly realizes that the cuts from this morning still haven’t healed and Frank might find out his deepest shame. He quickly gets up, “Actually, I think it’ll be fine. It’s like it's already healed.”
Peter quickly moves his hand away from Frank’s reach and offers Frank a small smile.
Frank looks confused, “Are you okay, kid? You seem a little out of it.”
Peter nods, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s been good. Good six months.”
Frank doesn’t look like he believes Peter, “Alright, but I’m here for you if you need anything, okay?”
“Yeah, I know,” Peter nods before pulling Frank into a quick hug. “I’m gonna go home now.”
“What about dinner?” Frank asks, following Peter to the door.
Peter shrugs, “I’m not really feeling hungry.”
“Why are you running away, kid?” Frank asks, grabbing Peter’s wrist.
Peter quickly pulls away from Frank, “I’m not. I’m just not hungry.”
“You’re pale and out of breath, are you sure you don’t want to calm down before you leave?”
“I’m perfectly calm,” Peter lies. He pulls the collar of his shirt, “It’s just like it's getting hard to breathe in this apartment. Don’t you have your windows open or something?”
“I think you might be having a panic attack,” Frank says, grabbing Peter’s hand again to stop the younger boy from pulling on his shirt, “You’re going to rip your shirt if you keep pulling at it like that.”
Peter pulls on his shirt again until Frank grabs that hand as well. The younger boy blinks back tears, taking shallow breaths, “Frank-”
“Hey hey hey, just focus on breathing,” Frank says. “Like this. First, take a deep breath in.”
Frank takes a deep breath and waits for Peter to follow before continuing and breathing out, “Then take a deep breath out. We’re gonna keep doing that, okay?”
Peter nods, following Frank’s lead. After a couple of minutes of breathing exercises, Peter feels like he can finally think clearly again.
“Sorry,” Peter says, sitting on the floor in the hallway. He accepts the glass of water that Frank hands him.
“Got nothing to be sorry about, kid,” Frank says, sitting down on the floor next to Peter. “Panic attacks get the best of us.”
“I didn’t even realize I was having one,” Peter admits, closing his eyes. He sighs, “I don’t know why I have such a hard time just being happy.”
Frank hums, prompting Peter to continue speaking.
“I feel like everything is fine right now and I still just don’t feel happy,” Peter continues. “It’s like I’m just waiting for something bad to happen.”
Frank thinks for a moment before speaking, “Have you thought about seeing a shrink? I’ve been seeing one for the past couple of months.”
“You have?”
Frank nods, “Yup, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone needs a little bit of help. I don’t see her often, just when things get overwhelming.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Peter mumbles.
“What do you do when things get overwhelming?”
Cut myself, Peter wants to answer. Instead he lies, “I guess… nothing.”
“Hm, maybe some coping mechanisms might do you good,” Frank replies.
“I guess.”
“You staying for dinner, kid?”
Peter nods, “Might as well.”
Frank gets up before offering Peter his hand to help the younger boy get up as well, “You’re gonna help me cook today.”
“Do I have to?” Peter questions, accepting the hand Frank offers and getting up. “I’m tired.”
“Fine, we’ll get some takeout,” Frank says, rolling his eyes before throwing his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “Wanna watch reruns of sitcoms from the 90s?”
“Do I have a choice?” Peter huffs.
Frank shakes his head, “Nope. You’re stuck with me forever, kid.”
“Doesn’t sound all that bad.”
Talking to Frank helps Peter stay away from cutting himself for a total of 76 hours. He caves him because it’s been a rough week on patrol and he deserves this. He deserves this because he let someone die. He let someone die right in front of him.
She was a little girl, no older than 7-years-old. He watched as she bled out to death. She was innocent. Just caught up in being there at a bad time. She deserved to live. Far more than Peter did. She deserved to live and grow up and complete everything she dreamed of. But she can’t. She can’t because Peter wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t paying attention and now a kid is dead. All because of him.
He deserves to bleed as much as she did. There was so much blood. He never knew that such a small person could have so much blood in them. But it was everywhere. All over his suit, all over his face. He didn’t want her to die staring into his Spider-Man mask so he took it off.
Peter mindlessly grabs a pocket knife that was hidden away in the kitchen before walking into the bathroom and sitting down in his bathtub. It’s just easier this way to clean up the mess the next morning.
He looks down at his wrist, it’s like a white canvas for a sicko like him. No scars, no evidence of his previous endeavors. He places the blade on his wrist and presses down harder than usual before gliding the blade up his arm. He needs to bleed. He needs to bleed as much as that little girl did.
He instantly realizes that this time it’s different. Maybe this time his body won’t leave. Maybe this time he won’t let himself heal. The blood gushes onto his white shirt and he takes shallow breaths before placing the back of his head on the cold bathroom wall. He grabs the pocket knife with his other hand and repeats the same actions on his right wrist.
You need to bleed as much as the little girl did, okay? He keeps reminding himself that he needs to bleed. Needs to bleed so much that maybe he can erase the little girl from his mind. Maybe if he punishes himself enough, he can finally forgive himself.
Peter realizes he’s alive when his phone won’t stop ringing. It’s annoying. That’s what it is, it’s annoying. He groans before blindly looking for his phone on the bathroom floor, still in the tub. He finally manages to grab it before noticing that it was Frank calling, in the middle of the night.
He picks up, “Hey, Frank. Everything okay?”
“I’m okay, are you okay?” Frank replies, voice laced with concern.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Peter asks, grabbing a towel with his free hand. He puts the phone on speaker, “Everything’s okay.”
“I just wanted to check on you, I saw the news,” Frank explains. He sighs before speaking again, “Listen, I know you like to shut off when things like this happen so do you want to stay over at mine and Karen’s place for a couple of nights?”
Peter looks down at his wrapped wrists before answering, “I think I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? It’s really no problem, I already talked to Karen about it,” Frank replies.
Peter blinks back tears, “Mhm, I’m fine.”
Frank stays silent for a couple of seconds before softly asking, “Are you crying?”
“Why would you ask me that?” Peter says before breaking down into silent sobs. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again, “I’m obviously doing fine.”
“Do you want me to come over? I’ll bring some food,” Frank offers.
“No, I just need some time alone. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Peter replies before ending the call, not giving Frank the chance to say anything else.
He just needs to be alone, that’s all.
The next time he wakes up, he’s on his couch and someone keeps knocking on his door. He groans before getting up and looking through the peephole. It’s Frank.
In a split second, he’s wide away.
He looks around his apartment, trying to hide evidence that anything was wrong. He looks down at his fresh wounds before putting on a hoodie, there was no time to bandage them.
Peter quickly places a blanket over the area on his couch which was stained with blood. He hides away his pocket knife in the soil of a plant Frank had bought him.
Once he feels that any evidence of his struggles have been hidden, he makes his way over to the door and opens it.
He greets the older man with a smile, “Frank.”
Frank steps inside before glancing around the apartment, his eyes finally land on Peter, “Kid, it’s 86 degrees outside, why are you wearing a hoodie.”
Peter looks down at his arms before shrugging, trying to keep his voice steady, “I guess I didn’t realize.”
“You didn’t realize it was 86 degrees outside?” Frank questions before sitting down on the couch.
Peter notices the bag Frank’s holding and quickly changes the topic, “What you got there?”
Frank holds the bag up so Peter can grab it, “Meal prepped for you for the week.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Peter says, offering him a small smile. He places the bag on the kitchen counter before turning to the older man, “So what do I owe this visit?”
Frank furrows his eyebrow, “You don’t remember? We’re gonna go do some furniture shopping for you today. Can’t be sleeping on a mattress on the floor any longer.”
“Oh!” Peter realizes the conversation that he had with Frank finally coming back to his memory. “I’ll just quickly go get ready.”
Frank nods and Peter quickly grabs a pair of pants and a shirt from his closet. He makes his way over to the bathroom before Frank stops him.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick, been holding it in,” Frank says before stepping ahead of Peter and into the bathroom.
Peter sighs before leaning against the wall, he just needs Frank out of his apartment as soon as possible.
A couple of moments after Frank steps into the bathroom, he walks out, a concerned look on his face, “What happened to you?”
“What?” Peter asks, taking a step back.
“What happened to you, Peter?” Frank repeats, stepping closer to Peter. He looks Peter up and down, “Does this have to do with the girl dying last night?”
Peter keeps stepping back until his back hits the wall, “What are you going on about?”
“The blood in the bathtub, whose is it?” Frank asks, eyes glossy. “Is it yours?”
Peter feels his heart drop to his stomach. How could he forget to drain the bathtub? His mind races, what is he supposed to tell Frank?
Finally he mumbles, “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Frank’s expression softens, voice soft, “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Did someone hurt you? Do you need me to bandage anything?”
“It heals,” Peter whispers, voice barely audible.
Frank sighs, “Kid. It’s just me and you, okay. Just lay it out there. What is going on?”
Tears silently fall down Peter’s face before he takes off his hoodie, deciding to show Frank what was going on instead of having to say it.
Frank bites back a gasp before moving forward to grab Peter’s wrist, “What have you been doing? What is this?”
“It heals, I swear,” Peter says, trying to defend himself. “It heals and then it’s like it’s never happened.”
Frank’s grip around Peter’s wrist tightens, “Just because it heals doesn’t make it okay.”
Peter takes a shaky breath before finally breaking down into sobs. He hugs Frank, burying his head into the older man’s chest, “I need help, Frank.”
“It’s okay,” Frank assures with a tight grip around Peter. “I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.”