usm . story dump

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Again, this was inspired by Reticent Monsters (and partially by Dishonest Lies), because I can't put the book down (I'm reading it on AO3 this time) despite having read it before.

I'm compelled with the slow burn of angst and that every single limb hurts because I'm bawling so hard. ;w;

Oh, well, this is just a little experiment with what I know about psychology (which is really not much, haha), but I hope you enjoy this anyway--

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Pain.

All he could feel was pain.

Nothing, but never ending pain and torture. Torment and no hope of escaping this hell hole of a sorry excuse of a white room. Everything was white, painted a sickening colour of white.

Haha, he was about to go blind at this rate.

There weren't even any shadows to provide any other shade of the damned colour. He was starting to hate the taste of anything white, or anything related with white.

Maybe even a sound could calm him down. A sound other than his own breathing, or the air. It would even help to feel something other than the straitjacket that really triggered a higher level of craving for more movement, which was literally one of the worst feelings on Earth.

He already hated everything. The circumstances he was put in because of existing. The self he stared at just sat on the uncomfortable white cot. He stared at the ceiling a little longer, before smiling at the camera he had discovered a little while ago.

He smiled, turning his head slightly. Whispering softly, "I hope this was what you wanted."

He heard the familiar hiss of a white gas release into the room's atmosphere, and he felt another wave of unconsciousness wash over him. How joyous.

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Peter woke up again, but he was in a better place. Instead of the white walls that gave every asylum a run for their money, he found himself back into the safety to the Triskelion.

It had been a while since Peter had been kidnapped by Doc Ock and Hydra and the symbiotes (wasn't really kidnapped by them), but he hadn't recovered. He still couldn't help but remember the events that played out. Every scenario that continued to drive him crazier and crazier for every second he breathed.

Peter looked around the dorm room; everyone was asleep. He was the only one conscious. It would be better if he didn't interrupt anyone from whatever precious sleep they had lost trying to find him, which only made the web head feel even worse.

He needed a drink. He may not be able to sleep tonight. Or maybe for the next few months, knowing how bad the nightmares could get.

Sliding off his bunk, Peter strolled out of the dorm room, navigating dark familiar hallways. He made his way to the darkened kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, immediately downing its contents and slamming it onto the counter, perhaps a little too hard.

The glass shattered underneath his grasp the moment it made contact with the table. Its shards pierced Peter's skin through the gloves. He merely hissed, not caring that he had just injured himself that way.

It was a good distraction anyway.

He tore the suit's glove away, watching himself bleed out. He better wash this before his team found out. Reluctantly, Peter turned on the sink, biting the inside of his cheek when the open wounds began to sting.

How ironic... He was using physical pain to forget about physical pain he could never let go of...

It was almost laughable, if only those memories didn't stick to him like his webs do.

The lights in the kitchen flickered on, and Peter heard the gentle patter of footsteps behind him. After he had sloppily cleaned his wounds, he slipped the blood stained glove on and faced the person behind him.

Turned out, the entirety of the Ultimates was sitting by the table, waiting for their leader to come over to them. Peter didn't bother to resist, and sauntered to a seat, pulling the chair to sit in it.

They shared a short silence, one that Peter didn't seem to like, but preferred anyway.

Ava seemed to break the silence first. "Can I see your hand?" she asked, her voice more gentle than he had thought it would have been. Without resistance, he extended his wounded hand toward her, where she could see blood continue to seep out of the already reddening cloth.

Ava took it quite carefully, gentle as to make sure she didn't agitate the fragile skin. As if it were the most delicate thing on Earth.

"You shouldn't hurt yourself, Spider," Danny suddenly spoke, watching Ava work on cleaning the wound. It was a good thing she had brought first aid essentials almost everywhere she went.

"Well, it's not my fault the glass broke," he muttered almost bitterly, seemingly more fixated on Ava's work on his hand than the actual conversation.

"Well, you should have been more careful," Sam spoke up, more worried about the cut than anything else.

"I tried," he spoke through grit teeth, lucky that the mask hid his irritation. When Ava finished, Peter almost immediately pulled his hand away, the feel of the bandages already reminding him of the dull aches he got from the White Room.

"You should get back to bed, I shouldn't be bothering you this late at night," Peter managed to speak. He got up to leave, but it didn't look like they were willing to let him be.

"We're not leaving, you of all people should know that, Spidey," Luke spoke up.

"It was worth a shot," Peter muttered, sitting back down, "what did you need to talk about?"

There was a small pause, the team exchanging worried glances before Ava spoke up again. "You know you could talk to us if you ever needed to," she spoke, "like you've said, we're a family, and a family tells each other what's wrong."

"We're worried about you, Web Head," Sam added.

"And we know that it's hard to talk about, but we're here for you," Danny commented. Peter just stayed silent and unwavering. It was ironic that he was trying to not bother anyone, and only did the opposite by being... not quite himself anymore.

A dry chuckle nearly escaped his throat, and he pulled his mask onto the table, running an uninjured hand through his hair. It was ironic that everything ended up this way. Without even wanting it to happen, a throaty sob wracked his body. A tear streaked down his cheek, leaving a shiny trail.

Peter didn't like crying in front of anyone, it made him feel weaker than he preferred. He hid his face within his arms, trying to wipe away any more tears. He hated feeling this way.

The team didn't say anything else, but someone had embraced him first. Eventually, the rest of the team piled on, embracing Peter in a group hug. One he hadn't gotten since he was found.

"Hey, you're all right," Ava cooed softly, rubbing Peter's back as much as the limited movement allowed her to.

"You're safe with all of us," Luke assured, "don't worry about anything, and rest."

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Inspired by OfficialUSMWriter