Peter Parker, spider problems

The aftermath.

In advance, sorry I suck at writing climatic events.

W/ Peter, (3rd person)

It was cold.

That was the first thing that came to mind when he opened his eyes. Or eye, that was strange. Peter couldn't see anything out of his left one. Instead, there was just a dull ache, numbed to the point where he really couldn't put in the effort of caring about it.

The second thing he noticed was that it was loud, for everything being so quiet. It was like his brain had shut off all the noise, but it was all still there. Screaming at him, like when the sun is too bright so you close your eyes but it's still, still blinding in a way. Behind those eyes, you know that it's still scathingly bright and you can see echoes of the light in the darkness so desperately pulled over your vision.

Suddenly, painfully, the loud quiet was replaced with a bitter ringing, Peter winced with his good eye. Attempting to sit up on instinct he suddenly felt two firm arms keep him down, he opened his eye again trying to focus on the blurry shapes and lights in front of him.

Before he could adjust properly the entire world was screaming at him. The lights were assaulting him, the smell of blood was so strong it was giving him a headache in addition to making him nauseous. He could feel everything, though he by no means understood it.

It was like that for a while, Peter continuing to squirm in discomfort but the indistinguishable hands kept him from moving from where he was. Gradually, very slowly, his surroundings seemed to calm down. The sounds became words, the light dimmed to a faint glow, and the things he was feeling became recognizable.

The smell was still rancid, though he had now managed to raise a hand to cover his face, blocking out the smell somewhat. When he could finally tell where he was- in his room, at the orphanage. That was strange, how had he gotten here? Actually, what was happening, what had happened? How come he was so sore? Why couldn't his body protest the arms that were keeping him on the bed- he was on a bed?

When Peter recognized the face above him he squinted his eyes in confusion, what was-?

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

"What- where is Finley?!" Peter spluttered, now having regained some strength as the adrenaline started to pump through his veins and his mind began to panic. He pushed himself up, despite the protests of the thirteen-year-old boy trying to make him lie down again.

"W-what happened? Is, is he okay? Where is everyone?!" Peter looked around, his eyes scanning the room before he let out a sigh seeing as most of the boys were in the room with him. Wait, most? Most?

"Where are-" peter attempted to continue his questioning of whoever the fuck might have been listening when the boy next to him cupped his hand over Peter's mouth and hissed-

"Peter, We love you but you need to shut up." he glared at the sore spider-boy as Peter pushed himself further into a sitting position. Peter, did as told and shut up looking slightly ashamed, that was before resuming his alarmed state and opening his mouth to inquire again, but he shut it after he found himself at a loss for words.

His mind wasn't working so well right now. Did he have a concussion? Probably. His head hurt like someone was beating it with a hammer-

"We're fine. And she's downstairs." he boy - Sebastian now that Peter recognized him - started off with. Peter let out a sigh of relief, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But then he grew tense again- this was all too good to be true, wasn't it? Was she going to come back? How long had it been? And it was hard to trust a bunch of gen-z kids when they say "we're fine", because, honestly, when is that ever true?