𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 | p.p. x reader | book two.

𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Quill was silent, my hands holding my side while Peter ran over and helped me up.
"Y/N, it's not his fault."
"Sure it is." The anger that boiled inside of me felt so sudden, coming from seemingly nowhere at all. "He's the one who decided he wanted to freak the fuck out and ruin the whole plan."
"Look, I'm sorry I just-"
"No, you don't get to apologize. How can you be so stupid?"
"I'm sure you would have done the same things-"
"I wouldn't have jeopardized the entire mission just because I was sad that my girlfriend died!"
"Oh wow, a hormonal teenager is lecturing me on proper superhero etiquette-"
"Y/N, just calm down-"
"No, Peter, I am not going to calm down!" I threw my hands in the air, walking away from everyone. "We lost all because this stupid...fuck doesn't know how to control his temper. We were so close! So damn close but you just couldn't hold back for at least two seconds! How stupid can you be? How much of an egocentric, egotistical....ASSHOLE can you be?!"

"Y/N, stop!" Peter grabbed me by the shoulders, making me face him. "You're sparking."
I looked down and, sure enough, small red sparks were flying out of me in every direction. The only time this had ever happened before was during patrol after a fight with my dad where I'd simply let my anger out on the criminal we were catching. Peter knew he needed to stop me, because when it had happened back then, the side effects weren't exactly ideal and I had passed out mid fight from overexertion. I let out a breath, just standing there.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-I'm sorry."
I lightly shrugged out of Peter's grasp, turning to walk in the other direction. I heard Peter and Tony call out to me but I shook my head and continued walking.

When I felt like I was far enough away, I collapsed on the ground as my knees gave out. I hadn't registered until now the severe physical toll that fight had on me, and now that I had time to breathe, I was able to register the pain in my chest and lungs. My breathing became almost erratic, but I started to take slow deep breaths to keep my heartrate down. The pain in my chest started to fade slowly but then was replaced by pain in my limbs, a soreness spreading from the center of my body outwards. I sat for what had to be a good 10-15 minutes, trying to catch my breath and be able to stand again.
When I could stand again, I walked back to the area we had been in previously, my head down as I rubbed my sore arms.

"I-I'm really sorry, guys, I didn't mean to-" When I lifted my head up, my eyes widened.

Everyone was gone. And only Tony and Nebula remained.

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"Right now I can't sleep. It's right now that I can't eat. Right now I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he's not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don't know what to do with all this hurt right now."
-Nina Guilbeau
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

It felt like forever.
It felt like I was drowning in tar, stuck inside of a body that I didn't want to be in. Everything felt so wrong, so painful that it was hard to do much of anything. Eating felt like a chore, and when I could eat I became nauseous and on the rare occasion I would throw it up right after. It was just me, Tony, and Nebula left out here, and we'd taken refuge in the Guardian's space ship. Unfortunately, the fuel cells were broken not to mention low on power, so we were more or less drifting in space waiting for something to change.

Which, ironically, greatly reflected how I felt right now.

Tony had filled me in on what happened after I'd stepped away. When he'd told me that Peter was gone too, it felt like my entire world had stopped.
Peter and my father were all I had left. After my mom's death my father had tried to be as present as possible, even though it was hard for him sometimes. No matter how much he had going on he would always ask me how my day was or set aside times where we could just do something together.
Peter was there when I was emotionally vulnerable. For the first couple months I'd been fine as far as grieving had gone; I went through the normal stages, grieved my time, and then accepted that she was gone. But when her birthday rolled around, I got hit with it all over again and got hit ten times harder. I'd started to dive into hero work in an attempt to make everything feel okay, and minus the few times Peter had tried to pull me out of it, he just let me go through the process. When I couldn't talk to my dad I talked to him, and when I was sad he always tried to cheer me up. But now he was gone, and for all I knew, my dad was too.