Us Against The World ｡ Peter Parker [2]

1 - Ever Since New York

Nightmares. The very things that are created from doubt, uncertainty and the fear of things unknown. Millions of people in the world would be plagued with such horrors when their eyes closed and dreams started to take over. Usually people were scared of clowns or never ending hallways and these fears were painted in our nightmares. What was I afraid of these days that it leaked into my subconscious? Everything. 

There was a sharp pain in my neck from falling asleep with my head dropped onto my arm at a strange angle. My eyes fluttered with movement while soft mumbles slipped from my dry lips. There was a warm hand on my wrist suddenly, waking me softly. My head snapped up, my vision growing with the sudden darkness around me. 

"Hey, you're okay." It was Peter Parker looming over me, offering a shy smile. I knew that concern filling his eyes and wanted to push it away. For weeks I had been having trouble sleeping, something buried deep inside just keeping me awake. Strange dreams played on the back of my eyelids, things that were blurred around the edges and didn't make much sense. Maybe that was why he had let me fall asleep on his couch when we were supposed to be studying. Maybe that's why his aunt was now standing above me, holding out a warm cup of tea. She was always sweet enough to offer tea in times of need. 

With a shaky breath, I pushed myself up into a sitting position, noticing the textbooks fanned around me and the patchwork quilt that had been flopped over me, most likely Peter's handiwork. I reached for the tea, giving her a smile. "Thanks." I tasted the added honey, the very thought of Aunt May making tea exactly how I liked it tickled my mind. Peter was still seated on the floor in front of me, watching with an intense look in his eyes. He hadn't mentioned his worries but I knew they were there. "I'm fine, Pete. Dreams are just dreams and the insomnia will pass." 

Insomnia wasn't something that was new in my life. After my brother, Colton had been killed in a car accident while I had walked away with barely any scars, sleep was something that had been a bit of a hit and miss for a long while. Usually, around the anniversary of his death, the nightmares, the panic attacks and the insomnia started up again. But it wasn't October, which meant whatever was haunting me had nothing to do with my past. It was something else, maybe that's why Peter was so concerned. "I know you're used to dealing with this sort of thing, but maybe, you don't have to do it alone. Your parents, a therapist--"

"Peter." I butted in, slipping a hand to his arm and drawing his attention away from his hands in his lap. I leaned forward, only a few inches so I could drop my voice so his aunt couldn't hear me, who was now back in the kitchen preparing dinner. I didn't need her worrying too, not when she might tell my parents something was wrong, not when I was perfectly fine. "I'm alright. They're just dreams, nothing to worry about. Plus, I've got you playing nurse, that's all I need." 

Things had grown strange ever since that attack on New York City years ago. Heroes that wore capes were public figures. Aliens and strange robots that were created to murder had stepped out of the shadows. Men and women throughout the world had powers, some in my very own backyard of New York. Some could use mind control, others had unbreakable skin. The Avengers had grown to become golden heroes, but then they fell with a war. The world wasn't what it used to be once upon a time and maybe that was a blessing and a curse. Spider-Man had become a household name, along with the fall of the villain The Green Goblin, a man I had known, a man that wanted to kill me because of a boy behind the mask. 

"I'm just worried, Flo." Peter offered quietly, looking down at our connected skin. For years I had hated him because of something so silly, but now he was someone I knew I couldn't live without and that was something that scared me to the bone. What happened when the hero didn't get back up one day? What happened to the boy with big dreams and the girl back home waiting and praying he would make it home? I had put my faith and trust in Peter Parker and Spider-Man, but both were just men and they were very capable of dying. That was a fear that circled through my head most nights because I had already lost someone before and I wasn't sure I was strong enough to carry that burden again. "After Norman Osborn and everything, things just haven't been the same."

The scars on my wrists grabbed my attention, flashes from that night springing up in my mind. I edged closer to him, my socked feet pressing to the floor. He glanced up, waiting for me to confess that maybe I wasn't doing alright. He had linked the nightmares with that night of horror, but I didn't think it was connected to that at all. "We all carry burdens, we have scars we wish we could hide, you more than most. I'm honestly fine. Now please, let's just finish this report before it's completely too late to watch some Netflix before I have to get home." 

I pressed a smile to my lips, giving him a light playful shove. With a heavy sigh, he pulled a heavy textbook off the coffee table and into his lap. "I'm not the one who fell asleep and drooled all over my aunt's favourite pillow." 

"I did not drool, you take that back." I grinned, pegging a decorative throw pillow across at him with a gleeful laugh. Peter gave me a matching grin, catching it with ease before it hit the ground. He pulled himself up, plonking down next to me on the couch, leaning his head onto my shoulder and handing me a pen. I tucked the quilt around him and like that, we were just two kids with no nightmares and no visible scars we were trying to mend. 

***

That night I laid in bed, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling. My parents had already fallen asleep, hours ago. The clock ticked on but my mind didn't die down. I had given up trying to force myself to sleep because it was utterly useless. In the moonlit room, I held my hand above my face, tracing one of the tiny silver scars on my wrist. They had been my very own battle wounds, something I used to think was pretty neat. Now, it just reminded me of what had been lost that night. A villain but also a man and a father had died that night. Harry Osborn had been left an orphan, all alone in that massive house and too much money to know what to do with. Norman Osborn had uttered one last dying wish; that we did not tell his only son that he had been The Green Goblin. Now, every time I glanced upon my friend, that was all I saw. The way his father fell and how his eyes had grown dark with death. For weeks I had thought that night had been in my dreams but I was wrong. The flashes of things that replayed on the back of my eyelids when I closed my eyes were not from that night. They were new scenes, snippets of things that were not from my past. They were dreams my mind were creating to maybe haunt me further, maybe some weird coping mechanism I was creating to deal with what had happened. I didn't really know but it was something I had to live with until it passed. 

But like most things in life, it did not pass, because it was actually the very beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that would be my downfall.