warnings: not edited and sorry lmao
______________
Ryder doesn't mind the snow.
Sure, she's used to the warmth of the south for a few months, and while that's been a nice fog covering the reality of New York winters, it's been tough adjusting back to the frosty chill of December. From walking around campus in a short sleeve and being the one northerner who doesn't complain about 60 degree weather, she sure feels back to normal while cradled in a knit sweater that's not hers with her hands supporting an almost empty hot chocolate mug.
Her life is almost so normal that she almost forgets her boyfriend is a vigilant fighting crime day and night.
It's been a slow night for her. Peter typically stays out later during the week to make up for him missing weekends to spend time with Ryder, and while that thought is quite endearing and flattering, the girl worries he isn't getting all the rest he needs to properly function. Just the other day he woke up at 7 am to rush out of the house to get to Midtown High School with his backpack and lunch.
He graduated high school 6 months ago.
Point being, she's just worried about him, naturally.
Some nights are better than others. He'll pop in her window with a few bruises littered across his pure white marbled chest or the occasional cut on the cheek from a swift punch. These injuries typically heal faster than others, because by the next morning they're nearly gone. But some are worse, including the open cuts from genetically modified creatures created in secret radioactive labs, or the one time he swung to her house using one hand because his wrist was completely sprained. Ryder is no nurse -- she does what she can but at the end of the day, Peter sometimes needs professional medical help despite how many times he protests against it.
His wrist still clicks to this day.
Ryder hates to see him like that, and the fact that he always comes to her makes her internally debate whether it's the best or worst thing he can do. She doesn't show it, but Peter, with all do respect, stresses her the fuck out when it comes to his sporadic injuries.
And of course, tonight while she's cozied up in bed watching Avatar: The Last Airbender, the universe decides to have a personal vendetta out to make her life miserable, because a few faint knocks on the window signal her that it's going to be a long night. It takes a couple tries for her to notice, but when she does it's a sight for sore eyes, definitely.
Ryder peers up from her computer to see a very disheveled Peter Parker sitting outside of her window, favoring his left side with a beaten face and a crooked smile that looks nothing but grim. His brown curls dampen against his sweaty forehead, despite the gentle snowflakes descending outside, and his breathing becomes increasingly more labored.
She's out of bed in less than a second, putting down the mug and beelining towards the window, nearly catching his limp body as he collapses into her arms, managing a sheepish smile to cloud the pain. Ryder already knows she's not going to be sleeping peacefully tonight.
"Peter- What- Who...?"
Peter collapses onto her desk chair, leaning back as much as the little black brace would allow with a grimace, debating if he should pass out immediately. "You should've seen the other guy."
Ryder knows the routine: whenever Peter shows up like this, no matter how big the injury, she snags the first aid kit in her bathroom and a rag so he can bite down on it if it's detrimental, as he simultaneously strips of his suit and slips on an extra pair of sweatpants he keeps here so she can mend to the suit after he's dealt with. Besides, in this case, she needs full access to his abdomen and chest, because it appears that that's where the main injury is.
It is, because when she walks in she nearly drops the items in her hands along with the shortness of breath when she realizes that this is bad. Worse than the other times. Possibly the worst she's seen.
Peter favors his left side, where there's not only four one foot long scratches digging deep into his flesh, but also fresh burns coating the skin surrounding the wounds, not sure the degree but it doesn't look too good based on the severity of it's redness and the pain Peter's currently portraying. Crimson, thick blood stains his hands and the skin below the gashes, already dried yet still oozing from the depth of the cut.
The blood is spreading quicker than she can even comprehend and Ryder immediately kneels in front of him, dropping the stuff on the ground and gripping her hair instead, her mind reeling, running, sprinting, trying to figure out what the hell to do in this moment because, fuck, she's not a nurse or even practicing human medicine! She can manage small cuts and bruises but foot long gashes and second or third degree burns is not exactly in her field of knowledge.
And her mind is running yet frozen at the same time because Peter is fucking looking at her, murmuring things to her and fuck, she can't do this, she can't do this anymore, this is too much, she doesn't know how to do this. The few strands of gauze and rubbing alcohol in front of her isn't nearly enough to properly tend to these wounds, this is too severe, he has to go to a hospital, he needs professional medical help.
Ryder's shaking her head, eyes unable to leave the oozing blood and the swelling burns, tears brimming her eyes as the fear and pressure finally unfolds onto her. "Peter, I can't- I can't do this, you need a hospital-"
Peter whines out in protest or pain (maybe both? She can't tell). "No, no, no, you can do it, you can-"
"I can't! This is bad, Peter, worse than I've seen... I-I-I don't know where to start, I don't know what to do-!" she panics, her voice raising with each word and tears already streaming, forgetting that it's the middle of the night.
"Gauze, it's fine, cover it up, it's fine-"
"No it's not! It's not fine, this is too much, I can't do this!" she nearly yells, digging her nails so deep into her palms that she feels herself drawing her own blood. "I don't- I can't- It's too much! I can't! I can't hurt you, you need a hospital!"
"No hospital-"
"Peter," she says slowly, finally looking into his eyes so he can understand, "I am not a nurse, I cannot take care of you like this, you need a hospital!"
Peter winces as he tries to sit up more, his volume much quieter than hers (because his lack of energy simply won't tolerate anything above a whisper). "You can, I know you can, just-"
"Ryder? Is everything alr-"
Ryder whips her head around and freezes, she doesn't have to turn around to know that Peter has tensed up too, because her mom, Valeria, has just sleepily opened to door to naively see what her yelling and commotion is about, and this sight of a bleeding teenager and her crying daughter is simply more than she bargained for, and now she's wide awake. It's as if Medusa has revealed her eyes because the stillness of all three bodies could be mistaken as statues if looked at by an outsider. The blood rushing through their veins is cold, chilling the host to the bone and shriveling up the figure, each body unsure of what to do with their limbs or what to say. What can you say?
Valeria halts at the sight, eyes wide as she analyzes the situation at hand: Her daughter's boyfriend is currently bleeding out onto the hardwood floor with some of the worst injuries she's seen (and how he got those is beyond her knowledge, perhaps the crumbled up Spiderman suit on the floor holds some answers), and her daughter is sitting on the floor with a pathetic excuse of medical equipment in front of her, tears streaming down her face and her eyes wider than ever.
Answers don't matter right now to Valeria. She cares for Peter as if he's her own.
Valeria looks to her daughter. "Use the gauze you have left to put pressure on the bleeding, I'll be back with a bigger kit." Is all she says before she turns around and runs down the hallway.
Ryder blinks before shaking her head, fumbling the gauze she has left in her hands and gently seep it into his wounds to stabilize the bleeding so that there's no more dripping onto the clean hardwood floors, doing her best to blink through her tears and remain somewhat calm for him. Peter grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that that will relieve any of the pain that's firing through every cell in his body, a low hiss seething through his gritted teeth and eyebrows pointed in agony.
She can't look him in the eye. It's her fault -- she was practically yelling. Now, it's a mere whisper. "I'm so sorry."
Peter doesn't answer.
Valeria returns moments later, breaking the tension by setting down to Peter's left, opening a kit three times bigger than the one Ryder possesses, pulling out bottles of chemicals and patches of heavy-duty gauze and wipes, and setting them in front of her.
"Peter," Valeria says softly and slowly, "I am going to have Ryder remove the gauze so I can disinfect the area around the wound, and I'm then going to apply this ointment to treat the burns, alright?"
All the boy can do is nod.
Frankly, he's afraid to say a word, worried it might come out as a scream.
Ryder removes the gauze after getting the confirming nod from her mother, and Valeria immediately dips a cloth into one of the bottles and gently pats the area around his cuts, a low hissing sound emitting from his lips. Ryder, without thinking, grabs his hand and he squeezes back (pretty hard, which kind of hurts, but she would never say anything, not now). Her mom murmurs 'Almost done's and 'You're almost there's to him as any good nurse would do, and sooner than later she's done disinfecting the wounds, and she wordlessly applies the cream to another wipe and spreading the burn ointment on the surrounding burns.
Peter emits a low curse word, his toes curling into nothing as he squeezes Ryder's hand even harder, but his grip slowly lessens as the coolness of the ointment eases the radicalness of the burns.
"Alright," she finishes up, "now I'm going to patch up the gashes and then wrap your entire lower chest with bandages, is this okay?"
Peter lets out a labored breath, "Mhmm." He's unable to say more.
Valeria takes this as a yes, as she begins to add finishing touches to the burns and gashes as she quickly patches up each one, making sure the bandage covered the wound before sticking it to his body. At least it's clean now, and he doesn't have to worry about any infection to the gashes (that will be worse than anything, she can attest to that). Valeria sticks the remaining patches to the rest of the gauzes with silence.
Ryder cannot find the willpower to speak, afraid of the result. Her own mother knows about Peter now, because the suit laying in the middle of her room totally didn't give away the secret, and now she has to worry about a mother's intuition and concerns of dating a superhero boyfriend. As she says before, the personal vendetta has gotten worse, and the universe truly has something against Ryder Phoenix today. Her luck cannot get any worse. She prays her mother won't tell her other mother. The less people know, the better. Besides, this isn't her secret to spread, it's Peter, and he should be the one to decide who knows and who doesn't know.
Valeria asks Peter to sit forward so she can wrap the bandages around his waist and up around his left shoulder to cradle his left arm. She explains to him that this side of his body is going to be sore so it's best to take it easy for the next couple of days and limit the movement of his hips and arm on his left side. A bottle of ibuprofen is in the cabinet downstairs, as Ryder knows, and that he's more than welcome to take a few to ease any lingering aches. Peter nods to her words and simply hums as she asks him 'yes' or 'no' questions, probably too embarrassed or scared to even utter out a word.
"Being a nurse for twenty three years has definitely paid off," she jokes, letting out a short laugh alone. Valeria smiles at Peter softly, sensing his fear. "I won't tell anyone, not even Lisa. I just- If it's ever this bad," she directs at Ryder, "you need to wake me up, alright? I don't care about who it was from or what you were doing, all I care about is if you're okay."
Ryder nods, sighing out of relief at her mother with a honest smile.
Peter manages a small smile, a sincere one where tears brim his eyes out of reassurance and trust, finally being able to breathe without fearing the truth being spread more than it already has.
"Thank you," the boy whispers gratefully, "s' much, thank you."
Valeria hums at his words. "No need to thank me, kid, I'm just glad you're alright now. You're in no condition to leave or...uh...swing...So just have Ryder clean the rest of you up and you're more than welcome to stay," she assures from the bottom of her heart.
Then, without another word, Valeria stands and collects the rest of her kit, leaving her daughter's bedroom and shutting the door quietly to not wake her sleeping wife down the hall.
Ryder and Peter sit in silence for a few moments, soaking in the events that occur and processing the pain and the reality of all of it. The silence is coated with their short, syncopated breaths and the topic that needs to be broached is difficult to kickstart -- Ryder unsure of what to even say because of her outburst on the injured boy and Peter unsure of how to apologize to her.
"Peter-"
"Ryder-"
They say simultaneously, and then freeze after interrupting the other. Ryder manages a small smile, feeling her cheeks heat up as if she's back to their first date and she's blushing. Since when has she blushed?
"You first," she whispers, afraid to look him in the eye as she still sits on the floor, cleaning up the blood on the floor.
Peter watches her for a moment, fighting the urge to close his eyes and lay low for the rest of the night. "Okay," he says softly, unsure of how to broach the topic. "I-uh...I'm sorry."
Ryder hesitates for a moment of cleaning the floor, finishing up and throwing the stained towel in the trash, the room reeking of disinfectant spray. Her heart skips a beat, and she's unsure of why.
"Sorry?"
"Yeah...sorry..."
Ryder looks at him for a moment, eyebrows crunched in befuddlement because why would he be sorry?
"I shouldn't of put that much pressure on you," he confesses, eyes lingering around the room to avoid her gaze. Perhaps that's easier than seeing her face whenever it's something other than a smile. "I put you in a poor and stressful position and I-I wasn't thinking when I did that. I'm sorry."
There's an epoch of silence between them, a moment that feels like an eternity but only last a few seconds, a few seconds where Ryder wraps her head around his apology and calculates what she wants to say in response to that, to respond with assurance and then her own apology, and then her concerns, preferably in that specific order.
"It's alright...well...it's not alright. But I'm sorry I was yelling, that definitely didn't help the situation, and I'm sorry about my mom..." she trails off quietly, worriedly looking at him to detect any sort of anger or frustration.
But he isn't. If anything, Peter looks relieved, at ease.
"If your mom wasn't there tonight then I would probably be in a much worse state than I am right now," he jokes, and then immediately recoils, eyes widening in fear, "no offense! Of-of course..."
Ryder's eyes trail off, already knowing where she's going to bring this conversation even though she doesn't want to. It's just that, he needs to understand how much stress this puts her under, being a personal nurse with no actual training. She never knows when he's going to come home to her in worse condition than today, or if he never comes home at all. Who knows what she'll be left to wonder, will Spiderman's body be recovered? Was he not quick enough to get to safety? Did he die on the way to her? So many questions that could be answered with a 'yes'.
"Peter," she says slowly, throat hurting, burning, "how do you think I would sleep at night if I couldn't save you?"
He doesn't answer. He can't answer. He knows where this is going. The silence is somehow more painful than his lingering wounds. Peter can sense the gears tweaking in. her head, finally getting to a pace that's going to unleash all of the truth, no more half assed confessions.
Ryder grabs more of the disinfectant and another towel and begins to work on the smaller and more juvenile cuts on his face. These are easy to deal with, certainly more accessible. "I know I tell you to be careful out there, but today was bad, probably the worst." Despite her being inches from his face, she doesn't look into his eyes (even though she feels his boring into her) as she cleans his cuts on his jaw and cheek and forehead. "You were right. If my mom wasn't here, then what? You bleed out on my floor? I drive you to the hospital that's twenty minutes away? We aren't going to get this lucky in the future. I can't...I can't keep seeing you get hurt."
Her movements falter as she finally looks him in the eyes, trying to ignore the fact that they're brimming with tears yet to fall with an expression almost the equivalent of a kicked puppy.
Peter has always been the sun and Ryder has always been the moon: he shines as much as he can and he illuminates the world around him, his smile radiating reassurance and his eyes welcoming. His hands are warm and inviting and act as a personal heater, his chest is a blanket, and his passion for the world around him is constantly igniting, the embers of his joy radiating off of him. When he's upset he isn't afraid to show it, like now. He's vulnerable to those he loves and he tries to act so golden when in fact he's broken.
And Ryder is the moon: not always visible but there. She's calm and crystalized, and she's often the embodiment of a long drive with friends at night, relaxing yet exhilarating, wonderful yet energizing, everything in between. Her voice is smooth and silky yet hoarse and tough when need be, she's fierce and bright yet reserved and comforting. She's a page turning book at one in the morning, she's heavy eyelids and late night cups of coffee. Her flaws are her downfall, she cares too much for others, others who may not possibly return the favor, others who love her yet aren't able to handle the truth.
Both are beautiful and catastrophic, utterly compatible yet polar opposites in spirit. But somehow they go together like two hands molded to hold each other, perfect puzzle pieces that you wouldn't think connected. Ryder and Peter, Peter and Ryder, the seemingly problem-less pair, the pair that goes on coffee shop dates and museum trips early in the morning -- not the pair that have to play cat and mouse, nurse and patient, hero and other character. They have their flaws individually and together, some overlap but most are isolated. They've lasted this long together through thick and thin, through monsters and demons and everything in between. They've made it this far, the sun and the moon, providing their services to the world in consistency, always in some predicament yet so goddamned free.
The freedom of the sun comes with the possibility of being burned and sacrificing passion flames, the freedom of the moon comes with the uncertainty of the truth and risking the feelings of others.
"I'd understand if you'd want to...you know..." he trails off softly, his voice merely below a whisper. "I won't stop you."
Ryder considers the possibilities for a moment, and decides that the latter would be a fucking stupid choice.
"I'm not breaking up with you, Peter," she assures. "But this can't keep happening. I understand your duties as Spiderman are important and are a part of who you are, but I need you home in one piece. I can't keep playing nurse when I don't know a single thing about treating severe wounds. I need you to understand that whenever you're hurt you are always encouraged to come here, but from now on you can't deny a hospital if I say I can't fix you, alright?"
The boy nods, a relieved smile etching onto his lips as if he's sighing in reassurance that he still has a girlfriend. He understands. He does. As much as he hates hospitals (and what it brings back to him), he'll do it if she needs him to. He won't deny it anymore. He'll come to her still, but he knows. Peter understands the new rules, and vows to never break them in a situation like this.
"You would do the same for me," she adds, to which he nods at with a bigger smile.
"I'd destroy a town if that meant getting you to a hospital in less than five minutes," Peter jokes as Ryder cleans the extra blood off his hands and face, the room soon being de-blood-ified.
Ryder hums as she wipes him down. After his hand is cleaned, he gently uses his good hand to gently caress the left side of her face, using his thumb to softly stroke away a tear that fell, tears that continue to silently fall down her cheek.
"I'm okay," he whispers, darting his gaze between her eyes. "You don't have to cry anymore. It's okay."
Ryder wipes her tears. "I know, I just- that was really scary. What if you didn't get to me in time, Peter? Or what if I hadn't-"
Peter shakes his head, murmuring soft 'no's as he uses the rest of his strength to stand up, pulling her (gently) close with his good arm, as Ryder sighs into the bandages on his chest, using her hand pressed against his back to keep him standing steady, as it seems that he's swaying just slightly (or maybe the world's spinning instead of him).
"No 'what ifs', alright?" he whispers, ignoring the twinge of fear in his chest, "everythin's gonna be okay, we always end up okay."
Ryder doesn't respond to that but instead pulls away from him and changes the subject, not wanting to talk about that right now, because there's been enough truth in one night and she isn't sure she can handle any more. Right now, he needs rest and she needs to process everything that just happened.
"Let's just lie down, alright? We'll watch Avatar until you fall asleep."
Peter hums contently as he lays down (with her help), gently sinking into the mattress and closing his eyes in comfort. He also hums for the fact that she's (finally) watching Avatar, something he's wanted her to watch ever since it came out on Netflix, and finally there are hints of his sun-beaming smile reappearing again, rebuilding. The smile feels natural, hopefully distracting himself. Perhaps thinking and watching ATLA will keep his mind off of the things that occurred this night. He doesn't really want to carry around the fear that more people know about his alter ego.
Ryder eases down next to him after turning off the lights, not focusing on the episode as he immediately passes out cold.
The window blinds are open from his entrance all that time ago, but there is no light, just darkness. The moon does not guide her tonight, it doesn't comfort her with it's indigo hue and it doesn't shed light to discover the truth of what she's feeling -- of course she's relieved Peter's alright but she still feels the lingering anxiety in her chest if Ryder was alone and unable to save him. The unsettling and doubtful thoughts cloud her judgement and her tears begin to freely flow once again, silently but efficiently. She sits up in bed as she hears his small breaths, knowing he's alright, but the bandages coating his chest say otherwise.
The fear of losing him outweighs the fear of dying herself. The fear of crying herself to sleep every night without him beside her outweighs her irrational phobias. The thought of losing him is something she can't control and it drives her insane that she can manifest the nightmare so vividly, that horrid images of a funeral cloud her mind, the glimpses of a huge memorial for the hero. Spiderman isn't the hero. Peter is. People will forget that. And that's something that truly frightens her.
How can she sleep at night knowing he's willingly putting himself in danger at every chance he can? How will she sleep if he doesn't come home one night? How will she sleep if his body collapses in her arms, lifeless and cold?
How will she sleep alone?
Ryder doesn't sleep for a while, and ends up laying on her huge bean bag in fear of hurting him, that is, until she cannot keep her eyes open no longer. But that's when the sun rises, and she knows that the day ahead of her will be short and quiet, that is, if he's there when she wakes up again. She knows he'll rise with the sun and carry out his natural brightness and contagious smile, as if the events under the new moon hadn't happened.
But it's okay. They'll be alright... They will... They always are...
That thought alone helps her put her mind to ease when she eventually does sleep. They'll be alright...they will.
---------
sorry this is sad it's the 10 yr anniversary of one direction and I'm drowning myself in their music. please excuse my privacy at this time because it's time for a 1d relapse
(also side note but am I the only one who sees aang in Peter and Katara in Ryder? sry I'm a slut for that show <3)