12: Blank

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A/N: trigger warning for depression
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( Peter's POV )

His hands hurt. They ache from the exhaustion of the day. Everything seems to hurt all the time. Skin rubbed raw under a thin layer of microfiber. Tear stained cheeks stick to the inside of the mask of a same shade.

He only ever seems to cry anymore. A bottle of eye drops holds a permanent residence on the counter of his bathroom, how used to each other's presence they had become.

A phone sat uncharged, half covered by messy blankets. Messages had gone unread long before it died and they would continue to go that way until absolutely necessary Peter planned.

He stood in front of the mirror in his room. Dark purple filled in the spaces below his eyes. Sleep had been evading his grasp for the past few days. It's hard to sleep when you don't care anymore.

He didn't want to have to talk to anyone. It requires pretending like you have enough energy to care about what they're saying to you. There's only one person Peter would care to hear from but not through the effort of texting.

His muscles groaned and strained against the effort of keeping himself standing. All strength had left him. Succumbing to his muscle's protests, Peter slowly lowered himself to lay on the floor. The cool and firm presence of it met him on his decent.

Time didn't intrude past the four walls of his room. He didn't know how much time had past and he honestly didn't care. It could have been minutes or maybe even hours, most likely it had been the whole day. At some point May had tried to rouse him once or twice. Her first try didn't even receive a response and her second gained an angry "Go away! I just want to be alone!" and so she did.

He knew that time was slipping past him, the sun told him so. There had been a square of light that slugged its way across the floor and had finally disappeared. Had it taken minutes? Had it taken hours? Peter wasn't sure.

Hunger didn't even bother to make an appearance. The effort would have been too great.

Happiness had never been hard for Peter to muster up, but recently... he has been sucked into this dark spiral that he can't escape. It's like fighting against yourself just to breathe. He hates it. He's supposed to be out helping and saving people but how do you help a stranger when you can't even help yourself?

More time passed.

1 hour
2 hours
4 hours
6
8
The sun had come back up at some point. Peter hadn't moved from his spot on the floor. A note had been slipped under the door but he didn't bother to check it. Sleep didn't come, or maybe it did; who cares?

Someone must because there was a knock at the window. Usually that would have startled Peter. He didn't move. The sound of the window being forced open should have moved him into action; it didn't.

A soft voice called out, "Peter?"

He knew the voice, it's ingrained in his heart.

He wanted to turn around to see but his body fought against him. All Peter could muster was a small "hmmm," in response.

Sliding wood against wood called out the windows closing. Footsteps that barely creaked the hardwood floor came closer. Peter just closed his eyes and listened to what was happening around him.

A soft thump in front of his face caused him to slowly open his eyes. A man was sitting crisscrossed within arms reach. When Peter looked up pale blue eyes gazed back at him, sadness hid just behind their surface.

"Hey, Pete." Wade spoke quietly.

Peter didn't answer, he didn't need to right now.

This is the first time he was aware of his physical being in the last... who cares how long. All he was wearing is his light blue, tight boxers as he had stripped down from his suit. Tears were dried to his face and he hadn't truly slept in .. at least two days. He also hadn't eaten in maybe three days. Peter has been in a nonstop downward spiral.

Wade had been speaking.

Oh no. I know he's been talking to me but for the life of me I don't know what he has said. I'm still not listening oh no. Uhhhhhhhhhhhh

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( Wade's POV )

I have known for weeks now where Peter lives. It's not hard to find people these days when smartphones exist. I never used this knowledge but I've had it just in case. I guess it's a good this I do.

A very frail looking boy was curled up on the floor in front of the window Wade was looking into. His spine was visible through his skin and he might have soiled himself. Wade's heart sank.

He pushed open the window slowly with his fingertips. Expecting some sort of response from the boy in the blue underwear, Wade stepped inside.

He spoke but an inaudible response was all that was given.

Peter looked terrible. His eyes were blood shot and purple colored the space beneath. His skin was almost translucent and pulled tight over the muscle and bones. Having a superhuman metabolism and not eating for god knows how long scared Wade. Peter had definitely soiled himself at one point. How long has he been laying here?

"Hey, Pete."

No answer.

"I was worried about you so I decided to stop by. Is that alright?"

Peter just blinked.

Wade stopped expecting an answer now. Maybe even just talking to him would help some.

"It's been a really nice day out which made me think of you. The sky was so blue and I know you said that blue's your favorite color. I..." he could tell Peter hadn't heard a word that he just said. His eyes seemed glassy and distant.

This isn't working.

Changing tactics, Wade decided to lay down with Peter.

The two young men were a foot apart, maybe less. Peter was curled up in a loose fetal position while Wade laid stretched out with an arm tucked under his head for support. He just watched Peter for a few long seconds.

"Can I touch you, Peter?" The question seemed to pull Peter back into focus. A very slight nod answered.

Wade reached his free hand out microscopically slow and rested it on top of a lifeless hand before him. He searched for Peter's eyes to catch a reaction. It wasn't the one he had been expecting.

Tears started to roll down Peters face, some running from one eye into the other from how he was laying. A breathless sentence escaped his lips and Wade had to strain to hear it.

"Help me."

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Unedited

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