Everyone heals differently. Sometimes, you have to face your struggles head-on before you can heal. By dealing with them then and there with all your strength, you can hurdle the hurt. Other times it's a slow departure from the struggle you're trying to heal from. Addictions are examples of this kind of healing. Sometimes it isn't either of those. It could be distancing yourself from what you're trying to heal from—forget and leave it behind; it isn't apart of you anymore.
Everyone has different things to heal from. You can heal from physical, emotional, or mental damage. You can heal from a hole someone left in your heart. Heartbreak, abuse, accidents, and a thousand other situations are different things to heal from.
But not everyone heals. Not everyone wants to heal, either. Some people don't want to move on, and others can't wait to break free. Some don't think healing is possible, or they don't deserve it. Even though Eloise keeps thinking she doesn't deserve to be healed from the trauma she endured in New Orleans, she lets herself, because everyone deserves to get better and move on. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting the past, though. The past shouldn't be forgotten, but it shouldn't have a strong hold on us either.
Waking up the next morning with Peter's arm around Eloise's waist, her head against his steadily rising and falling chest, Peter's fingers lazily tracing shapes on her back, and the bright sun seeping in through the window and shining on the pure white snow outside, Eloise realizes that the healing process has already started for her. Healing isn't a smooth road. She has hope that, someday, age will be fully healed. It will take time and she will have bad days, but she will heal. She knows that her family will help.
Dust particles dance in the glowing orange sunlight that pours into Peter's small bedroom. Eloise lifts her head from Peter's chest and smiles contently at the serene environment. The clothes strewn across the room, the cluttered desk, the textbooks and homework, and the mountains of retro-tech in the corner of the room add to the comforting scene. Peter's soft breaths and his gentle touch tie it all together.
"Good morning," he whispers. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
Eloise looks up at him. They're closer than when they fell asleep; her hands are resting against his chest, their legs are touching under the blanket, and Eloise could touch his chin if she would move her head a millimeter higher. This close, she can see the flecks of honey in his eyes and the small bumps on his chin and forehead. There's an imprint from where he was lying his cheek on fabric as he slept. The small, drowsy smile playing on his lips turns the ends of hers up, too.
"You didn't," Eloise says, her voice in a whisper like his.
His smile stays constant on his face as his eyes glide over hers. "How are you?"
"Better." Her eyes drift down to his neck. Eloise's gentle fingers trace the bruising marks on his throat, almost unbelieving that she actually did that. The bruises on his face have finally healed, but now he has more. Peter flinches when her finger runs over a bruise too hard and she immediately retracts her hand. Guilt fills his features for flinching, but Eloise is the actual guilty one since she put the bruises there. Her gaze lifts to his. "I'm sorry. Thanks for dealing with me." Her arms wrap around his torso and she hugs him.
His chest vibrates as a breathy chuckle escapes his lips. "Are you always this cuddly in the morning?" When Eloise shrugs, he twirls a piece of her brown hair around his finger. "You know, I'm more than okay with dealing with you." He adds with amusement, "Especially if it means I get a nice hug in the morning."
A blush creeps it's way up her cheeks and she laughs it off, her arms retracting from his body. Eloise lies on her back and stares at the bottom of the top bunk above them. She feels Peter's eyes on her and peers over at him. He doesn't look away when she catches him.
He perched himself up on his elbow and tilts his head, still studying her. "You're in a good mood." It's a questioning statement, slight confusion lining his voice, but Eloise can tell from his lopsided smile that he's glad.
"I'm sorry," Eloise repeats herself, her eyes returning to the bottom of the bunk above them. "I don't like hurting anyone; I don't like hurting you. I don't know why I turned on you, but I was having another nightmare before I woke up. I'm sorry." She meets Peter's gaze as he listens. "I really, really hate my actions and all the hurt and even the death that I've caused," Eloise admits, her voice breaking when she mentions death. She swallows thickly. "It sucks. I had a ... I don't know what you'd call it, a flash? Anyways, I had a flash of that guard, and I couldn't stop thinking about my hands wrapped around her ... her throat." Her breath hitches, but she clears her throat and continues, Peter still listening carefully. "And I started hating myself instead of just my actions. But I know that even though I keep thinking that it's all my fault that she died and that Ned's arm is broken and so many other things, I know deep down that it was Russo, not me." Eloise bites her lip. Peter's hand finds hers and he squeezes it. For the umpteenth time, butterflies swarm in her stomach from his small gesture.
"That's good," He says after a few seconds of silence. "The guilt shouldn't be on your conscience as much as it is—or, was."
Eloise still feels guilty, sure, but it's all in the hands of healing. She turns her attention to Peter's hand perfectly entangled in hers and smiles softly.
Peter's hand traces her jaw and Eloise looks up, surprised at the contact. As soon as her head lifts, Peter leans forward and connects their lips.
Cue more butterflies.
Eloise's mind races as his soft, yet slightly chapped lips press against her own, the warmth spreading throughout her body like wildfire.
But Eloise doesn't kiss him back.
She only allows their lips to touch for three seconds before she turns her head, breaking contact. Peter's lips ghost her cheek as she turns away, blushing.
Peter immediately starts to word vomit. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable if you don't like me like that, and I get it if you don't and—"
"Peter," Eloise says, laughing lightly as she cuts his rambling off. His eyes dart to hers, searching. "I like you too."
Happiness swirls in his eyes. His lips part in shock. "Wait, you do?"
"Yes," she says, smiling. "But ... I don't think I can date anyone right now."
And just like that, the joy is swept off his face. Peter clears his throat and sits back against the wall, clearly embarrassed. He runs his hand through his unruly bedhead. "Oh."
Guilt eats at her insides, but Eloise knows that if she rushes into a relationship with Peter before healing more, it won't work out.
"If I didn't almost kill you a few times and I was in a more stable state of mind, then I would've kissed you back, Peter," Eloise tells him with complete honesty as she watches his reaction. He still looks embarrassed, but he seems to understand and nods. Eloise adds, "I want to heal fully before jumping into something so I won't regret it later."
Peter looks down at his hands and plays with them in his lap. "I get it. Sorry for embarrassing myself."
Eloise lets out a laugh. Peter glances at her, chuckling along.
When the moment passes, she grabs his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. He looks at Eloise kindly.
"Thanks for everything, Pete."
"You're welcome, El."
🕸
Eloise ends the call with Bucky and slides her phone into her back pocket as she steps off the bus, leaving the warmth. As soon as her boots land on the snowy sidewalk and the bus doors creak close before it chugs off, her entire body is encased in the frozen December air.
Teeth chattering and her hands shoved deep into her pockets, Eloise speed-walks down the street toward the library. It's eight o'clock, and whereas any normal library would be closed, the 24/7 one is open and it's where Elena and Lucy are, waiting for Eloise to join them to study.
It's just like old times, before she was bitten by a spider that made her lose control of herself for a while, before Eloise started having vivid nightmares and recollections of her hostility. Most memories come in the form of terrible dreams, but a few times she has flashes during the day and it twists her day from being decent to sour. But, she chugs through the hard days and lives for the good days. The good days are days where she lives instead of fearing the unknown. They're days like today, where Ned's arm is almost completely healed, Eloise gets an A on a pop quiz in Spanish, and she gets a surprise call from Bucky. He was calling to check in and to make sure that she's adjusting well, which she finally is beginning to.
Eloise can almost see the library when she catches movement from above. She cranes her neck and peers up at the tall buildings towering above. A familiar figure in red and blue spandex swings from building to building. When Eloise's movements halt, the figure sticks to the side of a building covered in glass windows and watches her.
Eloise waves.
Spider-Man waves back.
Eloise turns back and continues on her way to the study session, pulling her coat closer to her body. This is really like old times, isn't it?
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Attached Song: Chasing Cars (cover) by Sleeping At Last
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