Parley Oneshots

Light Switch

Request by fandom_milkshake

This is a really long one but I think its pretty good (probably?) so enjoy :)

**I'm not a doctor/psychologist! I used a mayoclinic article and what I remember from AP psych to write this so... yeah, hope its at least somewhat accurate and hopefully nobody gets offended because i genuinely don't mean it in that way**

TW: mental disorder, anxiety, breakdown, mention of harming others, mention of murder, mentioned loss of sanity

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.

3rd Person P.O.V.

Peter had always been a bit different. At first, it just appeared that he liked to be neat and organized, that he just liked things to be a certain way, that he wanted things to be in their proper place. Which isn't particularly abnormal behavior, especially in younger children.

It was only after Peter had turned 11 that people around him started to notice that something was a little off with the way he did things. It was brushed off as perfectionism for a few more years, everyone being satisfied with that label slapped onto the boy.

And then Peter was turning 13, and he was becoming more anxious. He often found himself lost in his thoughts, thoughts that were rather intrusive and disturbing. Thoughts that were completely illogical, most of the time.

So when Peter was heading to the bathroom every 10 minutes- on the dot- to wash his hands, people called him a hypochondriac. And Peter assumed they were right- after all, the voices in his head told him that if he touched something, or if he wasn't washing his hands constantly, then he would have germs all over him. So, Peter was a hypochondriac perfectionist.

And when Peter would brush his teeth exactly three times every night, it was just him caring about his hygiene. And when he would double check that the doors and windows were locked before he went to bed, it was just him being cautious. And when Peter would flick the light switch in his room eight times before climbing into bed, it was just some strange quirk that brought him comfort.

Right?

Peter was 15 when he finally learned that these were not just meaningless tasks he did- they were his compulsions. Compulsions caused by an obsession, whether it was germs, cleanliness, or just trying to quiet the thoughts buzzing around angrily in his mind. His doctor explained it to him, giving Peter the diagnosis to explain what people around him had just brushed off as something less serious.

OCD, or obsessive-compulsive disorder. Peter had heard of it before, usually in the form of "ugh, I'm so OCD!" or "wow, do you have OCD or something?". It was this treatment of his disorder that made Peter feel ashamed of himself, as if it was his fault he wasn't like those other people, people who didn't have to flick the light switch exactly eight times so he wouldn't die in his sleep, people who didn't need to wash their hands until the skin was dry and raw from scrubbing, people that were normal. Because Peter certainly didn't feel normal. He felt like an imposter amongst these people who talked about mental disorders like they were a plague that could be caught.

So Peter kept his diagnosis a secret. Only he and his aunt May knew- plus his doctor, of course. And by the time Peter was 16, he had become much better at hiding it, barely raising any suspicion, blaming his constant bathroom trips on "a small bladder" or "all the water he drank that morning", or making up other various excuses for any behavior that could possibly be considered "abnormal." Nobody suspected a thing.