⛓ • we'll never have sex ;; peter ballard ;; ❤︎

eight

You haven't left Peter's side. You were there the day before yesterday, and yesterday and today. And if he doesn't wake up, you'll be there tomorrow. The only time you left was for your shift, and the second work ended you were by his side with eyes half lidded with sleep.

You just couldn't move from your seat next to the bed, you couldn't risk not being there when he awoke. The injury on his neck had turned a nasty red, irritated despite your many efforts to soothe the area.

Peter would have these small seemingly insignificant moments where he'd turn over— well, try to- and then groan in agony. Causing something that seemed like no problem at all, to become a very big problem to you. To put it simply, it scared you, beyond scared you even.

You couldn't lose him. What would you do then? You were already a mess who was constantly always on the brink of collapsing into herself, losing the only bit of normality and consistency in your life would most likely drive you insane.

Currently, you leaned almost all of your body weight onto the velveteen sheets of the hospital bed, trying to keep your eyes open. Your limbs felt heavy, and as time passed your blinks grew longer and longer.

You weren't quite sure if you wanted to peel your eyes open each time they'd flutter closed. The promise of a goodnights rest tantalizing, drawing you to the cusp of sleep like Eve to the forbidden fruit. Unlike Eve however, you didn't take the bait. You couldn't deny the fact that sleep did sound so very good, and your whole body did ache with exhaustion.

Despite this, you stayed awake and vigilant. With the help of multiple cups of coffee and the fear of him waking up and hurting himself trying to get out of bed, you kept your eyes open and trained on the blonde haired man in the bed.

Wide eyed and high off a large amount of caffeine, you stayed by his side all throughout the night until early morning. Your legs ached, having fallen asleep— something you had yet to do- due to your lack of moment lately.

All the same, you're up and pacing the small room. Preparing a mental list of what you'd need to do when he woke up, food and water and if he'd need help with certain things. Not to mention the danger your relationship promised to bring upon you both, you had yet to sort that issue out yet.

In your worried frenzy, and in an attempt to calm yourself— you looked around Peter's room. Nothing really peeked your interest, due to the fact there was nothing to be interested about. Peter doesn't really have any sort of decoration in his room.

No plants, no small sentiments shoved into broken picture frames, no paintings to express a passion, no nothing. It confused and intrigued you, Peter had always been a mystery you ached to solve. You wanted to peel back every intricate layer and see the true him.

Though you doubted that day would ever come.

"(Y/N)..."

It's a whisper, hardly intelligible but you hear him. It's enough to cause you to break into a sprint to the side of the bed, grasping his hand tightly in your left and a cup of water in the other.

Your eyes meet his, the blue of them barely seeable due to his eyes being half lidded. Peter looks exhausted, and you question why you shouldn't go stomping down there to Brenner's office to give him a piece of your mind.

You tilt his head up, and with gentleness beyond the normal human ability, you draw him up into a sitting position. He groans with every small movement, and your eyebrows furrow in worry.

You bring the cup of cool water to his lips, and watch as— with great effort- he drinks it. Each swallow drawing a hum of pain from his lips.

You lean forward when Peter whispers your name again, and you nod slowly. Moving as if he is a rabbit, moving as if you don't wish to scare him away.

"My angel, (Y/N)..." He reaches towards you, his face scrunching up in pain. Despite this, his hands grab ahold of your upper arms and he slowly tugs you. You follow his movements until you're on top of his bed, you kick off your heels and draw yourself further onto his sheets.

He nudges your arms further apart and scoots down until his head is in between your breasts and his arms are wrapped around you tightly. You're on your back, and your heart beats erratically in your chest. Terrified of hurting him.

"Play with my hair, will you?" He mutters the words so softly you hardly hear him, but you nod and bring your hands up to entangle them in his blonde locks. Blue eyes fluttering shut at the sweetness of your touch.

Peter breathes you in, the scent intoxicating and twisting the pathways in his brain until he is forced to let his guard down completely. The last of the walls surrounding the empire of which he is, collapsing. Showing the dying city, infested with plague in all its glory.

You brought life to his city, kept his kingdom alive with your sweet words and soft touches. Gracing him with love he didn't expect from anyone. It didn't take long for him to slowly drift asleep in your arms.

The constant ticking of a clock filled your head, pulling you further and further into the sheets of warmth surrounding you and Peter. The man on top of you acting as a weighted blanket, soothed your underlying anxieties. The ones that were always at a constant and consistent boil, waiting to throw you over the edge.

And then, your eyes flicker to the clock in the corner of the room. It's still far too early for your shift to start, and you find solace in this. You don't have to leave Peter, not that you truly think he'd let you go. The tight grip on your waist speaks rather loudly on that.

When you move slightly, and your fingertips accidentally brush against the still stinging mark on Peter's neck, he hisses. The hold he has on you tightening until you feel your rib cage shift and he buries his head further into your chest.

It hurts. Your spine and ribs aching in protest as they bend unnaturally, breathing bringing a sharp stab of pain with each expansion of your fragile lungs.

He takes deep breaths until he is lulled back to sleep by the sound of your heart snapping against your ribs. And as his grip loosens, your grasp on reality does as well.

Not long after him, you slip into unconsciousness.