Spideychelle one-shots

Wishes Pt. 4

Warning: Brief description of a panic attack.

Peter

Even the rain pounding outside couldn't distract Peter from the memory of the look on MJ's face when they'd seen each other. She hadn't seemed like someone who had happily moved on.

In fact, she looked... miserable.

And beautiful. Beautifully miserable.

It suddenly occurred to Peter that he'd never get to tell her that again, and suddenly the fact that he hadn't found the energy to eat today didn't seem as important.

How was he supposed to keep going like this? He slid down the wall, ending up on his knees on his bedroom floor. He needed help. He knew that, but it was so hard to stand up. So hard to breathe.

Panic was twisting his insides into knots, and he couldn't... He...

Was this what it felt like to die?

No. He wasn't dying.

He leaned his head against the wall, trying to control his breathing. His hands were numb, and his vision was blurring at the edges.

Maybe he was dying. He didn't exactly feel like it though. It felt like... well it felt like it used to when he had first gotten his abilities, when he would wake up with his sense dialled to eleven. When his spidey sense would go off constantly, no matter where he was or who he was with. Tony had called it sensory overload.

Okay, Peter thought. If that's what is happening, I just have to... get through it somehow.

Deep breaths.

One at a time.

Until, eventually, his chest didn't feel so tight. He blinked his eyes, shuddering as he regained the feeling in his fingers and toes.

He wasn't hyperventilating anymore - but he could feel the panic, like a dark monster that had curled around his ribs and made a nest in his heart.

Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he came to MJs. He smiled at the heart beside her name, and the picture he'd put for her - one he'd snapped while she was sleeping, curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch.

Before he could convince himself that this was a terrible idea, he dialled her number. He just needed to hear her voice. Just needed to convince himself, one last time, that she'd truly meant it when she'd said that she didn't want to see him anymore. That she didn't want him to try to fix it.

And maybe, below all of that, he was foolishly hoping that she would tell him why she'd left - and that it would something he could fix.

He just wanted her back.

MJ

She was at Jenny's apartment when her phone rang. Jenny and she had met at orientation their first year and become fast friends. As a result, Jenny knew her far too well.

"It's lover boy, isn't it," she said, gesturing towards the buzzing phone that MJ was eyeing with apprehension. "You should let me answer it - I'd like to set some stuff straight with him. No one hurts my girl and gets away with it."

"You don't even know what happened, Jenny. I- he didn't do anything."

"Yeah, sure," her friend responded. "That's why you've been moping around my apartment and eating my ice cream. What if I need that for my own heartbreak soon?"