I Need a Hero | Peter Parker x Reader | Wrong Number

-25-

Y/n's POV:

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I was meant to be focusing, I was meant to be working, I was meant to be learning.

But all I could think about was the pain and slight healing of my arm under my jumper and I just wanted to cut again. I needed to. The thought was overwhelming me.

My leg was bouncing up and down under the table, my nails were digging into my palms and I  was repeatedly biting my lip, but I couldn't get the urge to go away.

My throat was tight, and although I knew it couldn't help in any way, I couldn't stop the repeating intrusive thoughts that told me to slide something sharp across it just to feel something.

Shit.

I don't think I want to die, but I'm scared of what I might do.

I feel somebody grab my hand and I almost pull it away before I remember who I'm sitting next to...

Peter.

He's got a pen and he's drawing tiny patterns around my wrist and fingers.

Tiny geometric patterns snaked their way around my hand, little stick figures re-enacting his favourite Star-Wars scenes fought on the back of my hand.

He always drew a tiny spider underneath my thumb, I don't know why. I do know he hates spiders, so it seemed a little weird, but I loved it anyway. Sometimes, when I could feel myself start to stress and I would rub the little spider to calm down.

I think he knew what he was doing, I think he knew how much the doodles helped me feel calmer, I just prayed that he didn't know why. I begged that he didn't know that I used it as a temporary replacement for a knife.

I think he knew because, since the bus trip, I had asked him to draw on my hand quite a few times. Mainly whenever I was stressed.

Sometimes he picked up a pen and started to draw just before the thoughts drowned me and starved me for breath, even if I thought I was being discreet about it.

I felt a prickling in my eye and it took all my energy not to start crying then and there, in the middle of a Physics classroom.

I didn't know why he did it. Why he helped me.

Nobody had ever been like this with me, so kind, so gentle, so considerate.

Nobody had ever sent me a "good morning y/n!" message before Peter did.

Nobody had ever bought me a Coffee before Peter did.

Nobody had ever sat with me at the lunch table and let me talk before Peter did.

I looked down at my hand again, now almost covered in intricate shapes, faces, quotes, patterns etc.

It was too much.

Too many feelings for right now.

I just needed to get out.