entrancelogs | [ota] when did i become so numb?

Entry tags:

[ota] when did i become so numb?

Who: Peter Parker and You.
Where: Outside/His room
When: 11/13 -> 11/20
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Peter returns from his canon update as a wreck. Approach with caution. Feel free to approach him outside, in the hallway, or if you know him, go to his room/contact him via device. (Warning: I apologize too if these threads don't go to AC length. He's shutting down and avoiding and tending to lash out. He'll get better and then the CR can build off of these short, emotional bursts. ).
The Story:

♪ It's been a couple weeks since it happened. It replays in his head with perfect clarity whenever he closes his eyes.

There's the desperateness that he reaches out with (webbing flinging out, attaching to her). He can feel the weight of her body against his hand as he tries to pull her up from an endless fall. He hears the crunch of her head hitting the pavement and the snap of her spine splitting in half. Gwen. He killed her in more ways than one. He'll never forget that sound (or that she was about to take a flight and be free to do great things).

He barely leaves his room. Why would he? He's not Spider-man anymore. He functions on the barest of levels because of his aunt- because she already lost Ben ( again because of him. Captain Stacy too. Father and daughter dead, a promise broken. Noticing a pattern? It's him).

A shroud weighs on him as he finds himself outside of the mansion, staring at it, processing it too slow, looking wrecked (like he hasn't eaten much or slept much or put on new clothes today).

A rush of memories spill in like rapids, intermingling strangely with what he has lived the last year or so (it's terrible they're made to forget). He had friends here. He had Mary Jane here. Memories clash together abruptly. None of these people are in his world. She's not in his world. It's just him. Alone.

Peter sinks down to the pavement. Breath catches in his lungs. He punches a hole into the ground, scraping and cracking his knuckles in the process. Tears build in his eyes. When he can move again, it's sharply like he's tightly wound, like he's jagged edges barely bound together, ready to lash out. Blood drips off his hand. He moves through the hallways straight to his room.

For the week, he stays there. Sometimes answering the door when there's a knock. Sometimes answering his device when someone calls. Sometimes lying in bed and not answering anything at all.

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Peter takes one look at Mary Jane and knows too.

She comes into view in reality and some of those jagged pieces find their places again. The edges, the tension temporarily deflates.

She has already lived what he- what he just lived. She has already been through it.

He remembers. They were friends. They were close. There was a group of- a group of four of them. How can so much be the same and so much be horribly, terribly different? He falters like he's forgotten how to take a step. His eyes burn at the thought that- at the thought that there's someone else he can carry this with now, because he hasn't had that (has she? all this time?).

Peter opens his mouth but words fail to come out until they do strangled.

"You knew."

There's a pause in his shock, in the thunder that follows.

"You knew the whole time."

There's the tiniest nod in response to his non-question.

She knew.

MJ is excellent at pretending. Exaggerating the parts of herself she wishes to draw attention to, and stifling the parts of her she would rather keep hidden. She is the fort knox of secrets when it comes to her friends, Peter and Gwen included -- Peter and Gwen especially. But outright lying to Peter when he is raw and asking for a truth... she can't do that. And more importantly, she doesn't want to.

"I was hoping it would be different -- "

Her voice cuts off as she swallows past the tightness gathering in her throat. Some key things are different, despite the many similarities their worlds share. She'd hoped against hope this would be another one of those differences. It's not. Gwen's dead. Gwen's...

Old habits die hard, and that indomitable instinct of hers to run is present, in spite of everything. Run away from the horrors and tragedy that continue to wrap themselves around this one man. But Mary Jane Watson has done her fair share of growing up, and she loves him so much. If he allows it, she'll bridge the distance between them, pulling him into her arms. "I'm so, so sorry, tiger."

Peter doesn't move at all as she bridges the distance between them. He's still grappling with the thought she lived with this for as long as she did. She carried her own grief for losing her friend, and he's seen her- he's seen her emotions. He's seen she's more than pretending. He has witnessed who she is beyond what most people ever get the chance to see. He feels so lucky to have gotten to see it, to have gotten to really know and love her. And it helps to share this with her because she's lived it, because she cared for Gwen too.

Though he's been in Wonderland for almost an hour now unable to move from his spot, he feels like he's home, like the haze breaks free around him, and he's back to abruptly, suddenly being Peter.

His expression crumples. He feels the full weight of that grief as he lifts his arms up to wrap around her too. Something strangled, something grieving leaves him abruptly in its sound like a cross between a sob and a yell (grief and anger). Those tears slip down his face, and his fingertips dig into her back hard, pulling her closer to him, as close as he can get her.

He means to apologize too.

She lost her too, but he can't get words out yet. Instead all that leaves him is her name. "Mary Jane."

MJ was bracing herself for anger.

Bracing herself for the very real possibility Peter would push her away. She almost can't bear what happens instead, can't take in the reality of who they are when he isn't hiding and she isn't pretending. But what else can she do when his arms wrap around her like they're in need? What else can she do when he's hurting and he is so much a part of her that it's hurting her, too?

She tightens her hold on him as that grievous sound reaches her, tugs at something in her heart she hasn't wanted to embrace. Her own eyes burn with tears. Gwen was so young; maybe it wasn't her Gwen this time around but it aches all the same. It matters all the same. MJ doesn't understand how it happens -- how someone so full of light can be there one minute and gone the next.

With her palm, MJ cups the back of his head, pulling him even closer. She's here, and as scary as it is, she isn't going anywhere. She's right here in his doorway, where she's always been.

Peter tightens his hold on her, burying his face in her shoulder, as he sobs. His fingertips dig into her back as he finds himself shuddering with the strength of it. He kept it together at the funeral. He hid himself away for weeks. He's kept it together this whole time, buried deep somewhere he couldn't reach, but it floods out-

It floods out for a long time. She holds him, and he sinks into that hold as if finally letting out all that he's- all that has been wound up inside of him for weeks. When he pulls his face away, it's slow so he can look at Mary Jane again.

"Was it-"

He clears his throat through the emotion lodging there.

"Was it me there too? Did I-"

Harry made her fall, but it was Peter who tried to save her. It was Peter that made it so she was there. It was Peter's web that cracked her spine like it- like it did. He's thought and rethought it over and over again (how could he have done it differently? where could his webbing have attached to instead that wouldn't have resulted in her spine snapping?

there has to be a way he could have done it differently-)

Too?

MJ pulls back along with him, if only for her confusion. She is quick to shake her head, all too aware of the guilt complex Peter possesses. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. If there is someone or something he can save, he refuses to turn in the opposite direction. What he cannot prevent is still his fault. And this particular tragedy was so personal. So interconnected for all of them.

"No, Peter, that's not -- "

None of this is coming out right, just as she had anticipated. She just barely fights back her tears, keeping a hold on him. Maybe he'll slip away from her if she doesn't. Maybe the abyss is too great this time, but he needs to understand.

"The Green Goblin is responsible for what happened to Gwen."

It's so hard to say her name out loud. She hasn't said it, not even to herself, during this whole time. To say it alongside the name of a monster like Norman brings a bad taste to her mouth. It's wrong. All of this is wrong, and she can't change it. Not even Spider-man can.

Peter shakes his head miserably against her, still gripping hold of her like it's all that's keeping him up at the moment, keeping him on his own two feet. Is that what they end up calling him there? Does he do even more than kill Gwen where she's from?

Of course, he blames Harry. He's so fucking angry at him for what happened- for the fact he didn't listen to Peter and didn't listen to Spider-man. He was desperate. He was trying to save himself, but this isn't how it's-

His expression crumples.

"But Harry was my fault. I'm the one that even got the idea in his head, because I chased after my father's stupid fucking formula and ran around the city as Spider-man. He thought it could save him and I refused what he wanted because I knew what it could do, but it just-"

There's a pause.

"It turned him into that. If I'd been honest, maybe it- maybe it wouldn't have."

Offerings of comfort and positivity are brought to a halt in the face of Peter's words. She grows still, but it might not seem like it with the way her heart begins to race. She'd been grasping his forearm, and her hold tightens to keep herself rooted.

"What are you talking about?" she whispers, beginning to shake her head and then getting caught in stillness midway again.

"Peter, the Green Goblin is Norman."

Harry would never -- Harry would never.

Peter breathes in sharp at the whisper. Sometimes he really has to wonder how much is different from his world and hers, from his world and all other worlds where Peter Parker exists. He shakes his head distantly with his eyes burning as he sees her reaction. The photo album comes to mind now- The one where the four of them were all friends.

They were all together, and he. doesn't. have. that.

"Norman died of this rare, fatal disease. It's genetic. Norman thought Spider-man could cure it with his blood. Harry comes back home. The disease's getting him too, and he chases his father's research and starts to think the same thing. He found his own way to the formula that I- that I handed right over to Oscorp's when this all started."

He gave what his father tried to hide away, what his father died for.

"It turned him into that, and he hated me for betraying him, and he went after Gwen."

Harry wasn't perfect.

His temper could get the best of him and he was prone to jealousy, especially where Peter was concerned. Harry was also struggling with depression and an addiction to drugs MJ could've been more sympathetic about, but he's not a killer. He's not a bad person. In MJ's world, he loved Gwen, too -- because who didn't? The mere thought of him being responsible for this in any world is heartbreaking to her.

But she has to remind herself this isn't her Harry. MJ met Peter's Harry briefly, and he was different. They were strangers, outside of a few indecent accidents they stumbled into. It's easier to divorce from the Harry that's in her head and heart if she remembers that.

"Okay," she says, her acceptance shaky but simple. She believes Peter without question.

And then, in a declaration she somehow manages to make sound fond in spite of the bluntness: "You really stink, Peter."

She places a hand on his shoulder. "Whadya say you take a shower and I'll get some food for us? We can talk more then."

Despite the well of emotion, despite the building anger in him ready to explode at the world, at himself, at his choices, Peter laughs at her fond bluntness. It's a choked but genuine sound. His hand slides behind his neck, ducking his head low. He rests his palm against the back of his head as he manages a smile for the first time since- for the first time since Gwen died.

"I really missed you, Mary Jane."

His eyes flood with tears because there's that anger and grief again, because she's not there. She's not there. Gwen's gone, and Harry- Harry hates him and Peter hates him too. He lowers his head again. His shoulders feel heavy but he moves to the bathroom.

In other words, yes, he will go shower.

MJ watches him go off into the shower with a tiny smile of her own.

Then she'll be heading up to the diner -- it's closer to their floor than the dining room -- to grab them some food.

She usually doesn't like the greasy kind of food that Peter seems to favor, but she decides to make an exception. She orders them burgers and milkshakes, and it isn't long before she's back in his room, plopping down on the bed to set everything up. She doesn't know when Peter ate last, and if she can't change how much suck is involved in this situation, then she can at least make sure he takes care of himself.

Peter sinks into the shower and gets new clothing for himself.

He can't remember the last time he showered or got new clothing. The last- How ever long it's been, it's been this blur. There's still all this anger inside of him. There's still all this grief too, but the need to lash out against the world- his own world, against himself gets so strong. He slides a hand back into the wet mess of his hair. The towel's strewn over his neck as he steps out into the room again, watching her. Mary Jane. She carried that grief for so long, and here she is trying to take care of him.

"You usually don't like the greasy food."

It's a soft comment. His voice sounds rough like sandpaper.

Edited 2017-11-27 02:18 (UTC)

"Are you complaining?"

She thinks not.

Peter looks a mess. There's no pretending that he doesn't carry a world of rage and grief. There's no pretending something this devastating didn't happen and for once, Mary Jane has no desire or motivation to do that. But she made him laugh, a reminder that if nothing else, she's pretty good at that. There can be glimmers of light in the darkest of times.

MJ takes the cheeseburger wrapped in foil and lifts it up in his direction with an arched brow.

"No, not complaining. Just noticing.

Peter smiles a bit wearily but genuinely, running the towel through his hair, making a mess of it, getting water places, and then dropping the towel on the desk. He walks over to her and grabs the cheeseburger from her before he sits on the bed and then slides a hand behind his neck as he stares into the burger.

He lifts it up as he takes a bite out of the burger, chewing, swallowing.

God, he can feel all those emotions like a dormant volcano inside him. He presses his fingertips to the wrapper. Can't remember the last time he really ate.

"I can't believe you- you had to hold on to that for so long by yourself."

MJ lets her back rest against the wall the bed is pressed up against. She crosses her legs and places the bag on her lap, unwrapping her own cheeseburger. There's a small pause at what he says, and then she continues to quietly unpack her food.

"I keep people's secrets, Peter," she says quietly.

That's just kind of what she does.

She held on to his being Spider-man for a really long time. And this may be by far one of the worst secrets she's ever kept, but she knows it was the right thing to do now that he sits across from her, so broken and lifeless. What good would it have done to break him sooner?

Just as quietly, she leans in to bite into the burger.

Peter's gaze drifts up to meet her own. His eyes burn, breathing in sharply, shaking his head. He slides his fingers into the strands of his hair which- they're wet and messy. He moves until he's seated next to her, until his shoulder presses against her own, until he's leaning against her.

"It's just- It was a lot to carry, Mary Jane. All by yourself. I know, because-"

Because he doesn't have Mary Jane, he doesn't have friends who understand back in his own world. His hand tightens over the burger. His chest aches tightly with it, painfully with it. He takes another bite of his own cheeseburger. God, all this guilt is going to drown him out completely. He can't let himself feel it, remember all the people who died because of him- who became villains because of him. He doesn't know how to deal with it.

"It's so much, and you carried it to protect me, huh? Like you carried my own secret."

MJ brings her knee up to her chest, leaving her other leg extended. She looks sideways in silent contemplation. Even with all the grief and anger he's carrying inside, he chooses to focus on how difficult it must have been for her.

Oh, Peter. You're maddeningly wonderful.

"I know it doesn't feel this way right now, but you save people. All you ever want to do is save people, without thinking of what happens when you need to be saved, too. I wanted to protect you from losing someone else you loved."

She's just sorry she failed.

Sorry it doesn't matter what universe they're in, something terrible happens.

Peter looks away when she says those words. You save people. He nearly chokes on- on something caught in his throat. A soft sound that's a scoff, that's the bitterness tied up in him like a poison. The list of people who are dead or wrecked because of his choices is so terribly long. He goes over it in his head. It's what he spends doing in his room. He sits in a corner of it like he's trying to disappear into the wall.

He doesn't think of it now.

An ache pulls its way up through his rib cage.

"The first time I ever saw you through that crack between universes you were trying to save me, Mary Jane, and you've done it here over and over again."

He reaches out for her hand, covering it with his own, as something cracks right through him and escapes in the tone of his voice.

"Thank you."

MJ looks down at their hands, fingers intertwined.

She feels an ache rise up her own ribcage, and she isn't so good at mashing it back down anymore. She's sad, and although she doesn't want to feel sad, she also doesn't want to pretend that she isn't.

Setting the remainder of her burger aside, she scoots closer and rests her head on Peter's shoulder, keeping their hands linked.

"Thank me by holding on, tiger."

MJ knows that he's tired. She knows that he wants to give up, and honestly, no one could blame him if he just threw the towel for good. But if he can hold on for just a little while longer ... the sun will come up again.

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[ota] when did i become so numb?

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