Peter Parker Imagines Book

What He Won't Know Won't Hurt - Part 6

But you were too shrouded in the darkness of your reality to care. To even see it.

You had gone through all of the web-fluid refills that were clipped on your belt over the course of the night. You hadn't eaten. You hadn't slept. Only searched. Swinging through the boroughs of New York City in a wild craze, Peter's parameters set into your scanners, trying to get even the smallest hit of him - his voice, his heartbeat, his hair, his clothes. Anything.

But you came up with nothing in the end.

There was one time you thought you had found the car he was taken in, but you had just wound up scaring a couple of innocent frat boys preparing for spring break. No doubt earning yourself a brand new story for J. Jonah Jameson to rant about on his radio show.

It wasn't until you consciously realized that you were in the place where you had last saw Peter, the place where you had let him get taken away, that you remembered he had your bag. Wherever he was. Being held captive.

You nearly swallowed your tongue, suppressing yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs and falling to your knees. Your eyes burned like you were crying but no tears tracked down your face. Your throat was dry and scratched every time you gulped.

On the left side of the screen in your mask, Cindy's picture filled the corner as she attempted to call you again.

Feeling the black hole grow bigger, you didn't seen any option other than to fall into it.

•••••

She had already left her window open and was sitting on her bed, waiting patiently for you. Cindy was always a better actress; not as free with her emotions as you were, but you've seen her at her worst. And this was pretty damn close.

You barely had both feet on the floor of her bedroom before she stood up and barreled into you, hugging you so tightly it almost felt suffocating.

You tried to find the comfort in the action, but you could feel yourself failing. You didn't deserve it.

The cool air of being inside hit your face like you were dunked in a bucket of ice water as Cindy peeled off your mask, bringing it to your attention just how much you had been exerting yourself. She was talking quietly, but you couldn't hear her over the pounding in your head. Migraine throbbing and mixing in with your unfliltered senses in the worst possible way. You weren't focused enough, so everything was both too loud, too bright, but also not loud and bright enough at the same time.

You were sore everywhere. Everything hurt. The room was spinning. It was getting hard to breath.

"Help,"

The word was a slurred whisper, and you had only seen double of your best friend, concern troubling her expression before you blacked out.

•••••

You woke up with a jolt, bolting upwards and raking in breaths however you could get them.

You hadn't dreamt. There was just nothingness. A fade to black. But it was just as bad as a nightmare. You had been left alone with your fears. Your worries. Inside your head, where they could torment you the most.

Cindy was by your side in a moment, and you could hear her beating heart. You had scared her when you woke up, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she kneeled on her bed where you were resting and grasped your shoulders.