Overwhelmed- Spider-Man

Receiving End

Peter hears the phone buzzing on his nightstand for the third time that night. With each ring, it inches closer to the edge of the worn nightstand,  bringing it nearer to the dark abyss beyond.

Teetering over the edge, the phone shuts off, lying still against the worn wood. Peter sighs. Rolling over in bed, he stares up at the ceiling.

The guest bedroom in MJ's apartment is a mess. A pile of old, wrinkled clothes he grabbed out of the garbage when he was evicted sit in the corner gathering dust. The bedsheets are crumpled, tossed on the edge of the bed in a heap. A few bowls of half-finished soup sit on the nightstand next to his phone, their now room-temperature contents locked away from the rest of the world behind the door to the room. Everything is silent.

The silence shatters when a sharp knock sounds at the door, the other presence in the house hovering outside.

"Pete, are you awake?" He bites the inside of his cheek. He shouldn't ignore her, but if she knows he's up, she'll want to talk, and he's too tired.

Too tired to sleep, too hungry to eat, too sad to cry. He hasn't spoken to anyone in days, and he know he's worrying everyone sick.

But they would be just as worried if he came out as they are now.

"I'm coming in." Rustling erupts from outside the door, and the door makes a small click as the button holding the door shut pops out. Did she just pick the lock?

The door swings open wide as MJ steps into the room, bright red hair messily cascading down onto the sleeves of her pajama shirt. She sighs.

"I knew you were awake. You couldn't sleep this much if you tried." She walks farther into the room, wrinkling her nose. "Pete, it's a mess in here. What have you been doing?"

He shrugs, embarrassment burning his cheeks. "I haven't really done anything."

MJ shakes her head, stepping closer to the bed with her lips drawn into a thin line.

Peter looks down, heart pounding in his chest as he avoids her eyes. The sheets wrinkle as she sits down on the bed next to him.

"Will you please look at me?" Pinpricks begin stinging Peter's eyes, water droplets building up in the corners.

"I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse and crackly from going unused and his throat burns just trying to get out that short sentence. MJ takes a deep breath.

"Pete, you know you don't have to apologize. I'm not mad." She blinks, clearing away tears from her glossy eyes. "I just don't want you to sit cooped up in here by yourself."

Staring at his hands, he avoids her eyes.

"I know." She wrinkles her nose, running a hand through his oily hair.

"You sound like shit." He lets out a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head.

"I feel like shit," He responds.

"I figured. I would too." She says, frowning.

Guilt gnaws at his stomach. Of course, Mary Jane is upset too. She spent more time in Peter's house than hers growing up, May was like family to her. He's been laying around in here feeling sorry for myself, didn't even think about trying to comfort MJ.

It's selfish, isn't it?

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Peter blurts out.

MJ wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. "Peter... do you remember when my dad died?"

"What?"

"I locked myself in my dorm room and refused to talk to anyone. It was right after things for you... started going downhill again. I didn't even stop to check on you until you came to see me." She says.