Matt stilled as he listened to Peter's uneven breaths. It was the fourth time this week his friend had awoken in a cold sweat, the image of Gwen Stacy's death burnt behind his eyelids. He supposed it was only natural, grieving in such a way after losing someone so important to him. It was definitely more healthy than what he, himself, would have done. Quietly, Matt padded into Peter's bedroom, navigating his way past the piles of dirty clothes and books before sitting at the foot of his bed. He could hear the flutter of Peter's heart, the way his whole body shook. When the Human Torch had first asked him to watch over Spider-Man, he couldn't fathom why. Sure, he and Peter had teamed up before and had known each other long enough to have discovered each other's identities, but Peter had always been the more stable of the two. Peter was the one who pulled Matt out of dumpsters and lectured him about being safe. Why did Peter, of all people, need his help?
But now... it had become apparent that Peter Parker was far from the "okay" he claimed to be. Then again, he had lost his long time girlfriend a little over two weeks ago. He couldn't be expected to recover quickly. He hadn't wanted to assume what had happened, but Johnny had told him everything. And it was much worse than Matt had originally speculated. Gwen Stacy's neck had snapped because Peter Parker couldn't catch her fast enough. Because there was nothing to support her body besides the webbing, it was crushed under the force. It was no wonder why Peter was such a mess. He undoubtedly blamed himself, and if Spider-Man's guilt was a quarter of Daredevil's, then the younger of the two was, at the least, torn apart by this.
"Peter," The attorney said, voice as firm as he could make it out to be, "you're alright. I'm here." Part of him wondered why those were the words he chose to use of all things. Sure, Peter was his friend, but they had never been much for stability when it came to said friendship. Matt could be gone in a flash, and so could Peter. Comforting the other with his presence was suddenly an asinine notion. He wasn't even sure if he would be of any help by being there. However, Johnny Storm believed he could help, so he would try. Even if he couldn't, he was always a sucker for lost causes.
"M... Matt." The bed shifted as Peter pulled himself into a sitting position, knees curled up to his chest. Though his breathing had slowed, his heart was still hammering in his chest, like a child hitting a drum frantically. He had moved so his back was resting against the headboard, arms crossed over his legs. Matt could feel Peter's gaze on him, as if his eyes were glued to the older of the two.
Matt sighed, "I'm here, Webs. I'm here." There was a long pause that followed. He wondered if Peter had decided to stop talking. Or if he were collecting his thoughts. He supposed it was logical that Peter could have been crying, but maybe not. He would have been able to taste the salt in the air if that were the case-
"I miss her," Peter croaked, curling up into a ball.
For a moment, the attorney was unsure of what to say. He could tell Peter that she was long gone, but that would only result in conflict. He could suggest Peter moves on, but that hardly seemed appropriate either. Even worse, Matt could refuse to acknowledge Peter had spoken to him. But he couldn't. As if he might spook the web-slinger, he slowly moved so he was sitting next to him. Almost instantaneously, a pair of arms were wrapped around his neck. He was so shell-shocked that he almost forgot how to breathe. He was overwhelmed by how close Peter was. He was distracted by the scent of cheap soap and laundry detergent mixed with dried salt and Kleenex. At a distance, it had done little to bother him. But now it was all over him,
and he could hardly ignore it. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Peter, holding him close.
"I know."
