Walking the Wire | PETER PARKER [1]

| 36 |

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."