teen spirit|| peter parker [1]

eight

But there's a struggle. The sounds of bones crunching and heavy bodies hitting against the ground, groans escaping the mouth of the injured.

I take off, sprinting through the pitch black. Rapid and rugged breaths slipping from between my lips in panicked gasps echoing around me. I can feel my heartbeat in my head, my throat and joining the harsh pins and needles poking my legs which is almost immobilising. The intense burning remains in my body and prepares me for the number of engines installed in the cars lining the streets later exploding, as I hurtle down the sidewalk.

No matter how quickly I run, there are still footsteps behind me.

And I have no idea who it is.

Is it the man from before? Could he have gotten some of his pals in on the job?

I turn onto the next street, where the street lamps are dull, yet thankfully still working unlike the others. No thanks to me.

"Hey- wait up-"

My immediate fight or flight response disregards the familiar tone of the voice behind me, as a hand curls around my wrist. My fingers immediately twist into a fist, thudding across the jaw of the person behind me, the sound of bones crunching at the sheer impact of the connection between us.

And it's then that I realise I have just punched Peter Parker across the face.

Somehow in my panicked and furious state, the adrenaline running through my veins caused me to disregard anything around me. My surroundings collecting into several vivid blotches of colour. I hadn't even been able to acknowledge the familiar shades of rich red and electric blue. Though I suppose the familiar softness of his voice should have been enough for me to realise it was him.

He stands startled for a second, clearly having not expected me to clock him across the face in return for what I'm guessing was his assistance in getting me away from the violent and rather drunk man who had been calling me. His hand drops from my wrist, as if he is cautious that I'd hit him again, perhaps send the tall buildings beside us crumbling to the ground with nothing more than a glance, though he remains only a few inches in front of me. He knows I wouldn't hurt him.

I can't hardly even process it. My body washes over in various emotions; embarrassment, relief, guilt, anxiety, anger. "Peter? I... fuck, I'm so sorry. I was just really scared and I thought you were-"

"It's fine," he cuts me off, "I heard you shouting at that guy to leave you alone, and then the lights went out, which I'm assuming was your doing. Sorry, I thought that being in the pitch black could have been really dangerous for you. But don't worry, he's passed out, he won't be waking up for a while," Peter explains, his hand twitching to his jaw slightly as he talks. I wouldn't be surprised if I had loosened some molars and a trip to the emergency dentist was in dire need.

"Thank y-"

"Are you okay?" he begins, "Sorry, that was probably a really stupid question, of course you're not. I'm really sorry for whatever happened to you, I can't even imagine how you're feeling right now."

"It's happened more than once, Peter. I suppose I'm not surprised," I explain to him.

"Yeah, but it shouldn't have," he snaps in disgust, before groaning slightly and clasping his hand to the portion of his face which was brutally battered by myself. I cringe. "Will you come to May's with me? Please, I need to make sure you're okay- and that my jaw isn't broken." His tone is notably much softer and parts his lips in some sort of whisper. I'm not sure if that's due to the pain or just his gentle nature. I couldn't possibly say no even if I tried. And I had myself for it.