Wings || Peter Parker

5: Blood

My mind kept drifting to the thought of gliding through the sky, high above the city so everyone else was the size of ants. Dipping low to the ground, leaving a dark shadow over the streets below, or skimming the water of a river with my hand, leaving a soft spray behind me.

Going up above the cloud layer, where it was all just a sea of white. The sun wouldn't be hidden, and I could fly high enough to see the stars above the light pollution of the city. Reaching out a hand to the stars, the sun, and the moon. Flying far enough to dip below the clouds and see the ocean below me, surrounded by a sea green color.

Diving into the streets, dropping faster than a bullet and leveling out just before smashing face-first into the ground. 

A knock on the glass startled me, and I glanced up to see the redhead with long hair staring back at me. She wore a red zip-up hoodie and a black t-shirt. 

"Hello, Max."

I smiled in acknowledgment, instantly forgetting her name.

"I'm Wanda." She added.

I nodded.

"I noticed you were here for hours, frozen in place." She noted. "Are you alright?"

I nodded again, ignoring the impulsive thoughts to blurt out no.

"Okay. I just came to check on you." She said. "Would you like some company?"

I shook my head in reply.

"Alright. I'm in room eleven if you ever need me, or would like to talk." She walked out of the room, a fuzzy red light swirling around her.

I felt bad for pushing her questions away, but I didn't feel up to talking yet. 

Glancing outside, I noticed the sky was already turning yellow from the sunset. It had reached this side of the building, shining bright yellow light into the room. It was warm and comforting, enough to make me feel slightly better about my situation. 

I stood at the window for what felt like forever, slowly watching the sun fall behind the buildings once again and seeing the sky grow darker and darker until it was just empty nothingness.

Avengers began to stream into the room at five o'clock, Natasha-the other redhead, I remembered her name- and the man who'd had the bow were cooking dinner for everyone.

Multiple people spoke to me, but I just replied with a nod or a smile, curled up on the couch, my wings taking up the rest.

At one point someone had left a plate of spaghetti and meatballs on the small table in front of me. 

Half the people were missing, either not there or eating somewhere else. There were a few people I didn't recognize, like the man with the metal arm, and the man with red skin who had a yellow stone in his head. He wasn't eating.

Once they had all started talking and were having a loud conversation, I picked up my plate. It was the first meal I'd had all day, and I ate it quickly. 

I restrained myself from getting up to get more, in fear of approaching the rowdy table. 

Everyone was in plain clothes, no one dressed in their superhero suits or anything of such.

I smiled, even laughing at some points in the conversation. I could pick up even the quietest whisper with my heightened hearing.

I left shortly after, retreating to lay on my bed in my room and resting the rest of the night.

I woke up at eleven PM, after sleeping for five hours. There had been a loud crashing that shattered my eardrums, waking me right up.

I rolled onto the floor, pulling a pair of pajama pants Peter had given me on over my sleepwear, and quickly hurried to the cause of the sound.

It was from Peter's room. I knocked twice, when I heard a muffled groan I cautiously opened the door. 

He was lying on his side on his floor, his spider-suit still on and both hands covering a bloody wound.

"Max-" He said. "Hi."

Oh my god. 

I waved my hands frantically in circles, trying to decide what to do. The blood was pooling on the floor, staining his carpet. 

I knelt on the floor next to him, holding my wings up out of the way. Brushing my fingers over the wound, he cringed and pulled away. I exhaled and grabbed a shirt off the floor and used it to mop up some of the blood. I held it against his side, placing one of his hands on top to add pressure.

"I got stabbed." He gasped, pulling off his mask revealing a ton of bruises.

His eye was surrounded in blue and black bruising, and his nose was bleeding, with a slight crook in it. 

"Get, get Mr. Stark." He breathed, rolling on his back.

I panicked. Mr. Stark was multiple floors below, and wouldn't get here in enough time for Peter to be safe.

I bit my lip before running out of the room and banging on the door to room eleven.