Hang In There// P.P.

Chapter 13: Tony.

"Ow. Fuck."

I bit down on the piece of cloth as I drove the sewing needle through the open scar. It was only a fraction of the actual size that reopened, probably when Peter had delivered that kick in the studio. There was a knock on my door.

"Shit."

I quickly pulled down my shirt, the needle still stuck halfway through the wound, the thread hanging. I shouted a 'one minute' as I scrambled around the room, trying to discard any evidence of what I was doing. I composed myself and opened the door.

"Pete? Hey."

I wasn't expecting to see him standing there at nearly eleven o'clock. We had recently moved out of the hotel and into a small apartment up town, dad finally able to come home after weeks in the hospital but per usual, he was working. Peter seemed to sense my tension.

"You okay?"

"Eh, yep. Peachy."

Little did I know the black thread hung a centimeter lower than my top, a small amount but still enough for Peter to notice.

"Sof, what's that?"

He pointed at the hanging material, drawing my attention to my failed attempt at hiding it.

"Oh, its nothing, don't worry about it."

I let out a nervous laugh as Peter pushed me gently into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Show me."

I gave him a confused look, trying to act dumb.

"Eh, I don't know what you mean."

Swiftly, Peter walked over to me, lifting up the hem of my top enough to notice the sewing needle wedged halfway through the open scar. He gave me a look of both worry and slight anger.

"Sit down."

I did as he said as he went into the small bathroom, getting some hot water and a face cloth. I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to push the needle all the way through but having no luck as the dried blood had stuck it in place. Nevertheless I kept trying, the pain causing a tear to roll down my cheek as I bit the inside of my mouth, trying to suppress the cry that was dying to get out.

"Sof, stop."

Peter came over and placed his hands on my bloodied ones, drawing them away from the wound. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking as I stared at the red substance that laced them. Peter gently pushed my shoulder back as I lay back on the bed, making it easier for him to work. I watched him as he dipped the face cloth in the hot water and dabbed it over the open scar, softening and cleaning any dry blood that stuck around it. When he had it all cleaned he handed me a t-shirt from the end of my bed, telling me to bite down on it, knowing exactly what was coming next. I didn't have two second to react before he was pushing the needle through, again and again and again. My hand flew to grab his arm, my nails digging into his skin as the tears flowed down my cheeks and muffled cries escaped my throat. The pain started to ease as he cut the thread, putting a small knot to ensure it didn't come loose, my grip loosening on the boys arm, obvious marks left there. I managed to compose myself as Peter washed up after him. When he came back into the room he took the laptop off the counter and brought it over with him, hopping onto the bed beside me. I looked at him confused.

"I believe you still have to finish Star Wars."

"Pete, it's nearly twelve. Aunt May is gonna be worried that you're not home."

"She isn't expecting me home tonight, don't worry."

I looked at him questioningly.

"Harry invited me over for the night. He said it would be good for you to have a friend right now."