clever as the devil, and twice as pretty.
It is a known fact that when you lie, you do it for a reason - but Nina was lying unhinged and she loved it. she loved the way they left the tip of her tongue. She loved the adrenaline she felt whenever she'...
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ITS NIGHT. A mere month after Tony's death - and Peter Parker is on top of a roof overlooking Queens after running away from a hoard of criminals that terrorized him - fuck resolve. Fuck the probably now stolen car. He couldn't breathe.
He started to pant, and his heartbeat quickened, which is when Nina came around to him, resting her hand on Peter's shoulder. "Hey, hey, Peter. You're okay. It's okay."
Peter felt like couldn't catch his breath, he couldn't even breathe, and just like that, every single progress he's made of accepting what had happened crumbles down the drain.
It hurts.
"Breathe, Peter." Nina repeats. Once she notices that the boy is on the edge of a panic attack, her eyes glow a bright white, taking over his senses, "Breathe."
He breathes.
Peter stared quietly, even a few moments after he could finally feel his chest relax. Finally, as he'd glanced at Nina, who's lip was bitten as she stared at a nearby memorial for Tony, everything came pouring out of him.
He was gone.
Through sobs, he cursed and whimpered - at Tony, at himself, and most of all at Thanos; at everything that forced Tony to do the unthinkable. He clutched desperately at his own suit and wished this wasn't real, that this could be fixed, that life could just for fucking once be fair.
Nina held him - like she always did. She never knew how to comfort people - but she was there; she knew his pain; she knew how much it hurt and she was there for him and that was enough for him.
When his tears and voice gave out, he only felt worse. It hurts. That was the easiest way to describe it; his chest hurt. His head hurt. His heart hurt. Everything hurts and he was growing sick of it.
"Please," Peter lets out, as his heart crunched in his chest— it felt like there was a rock inside him, making breathing difficult. "Please just make it stop. Take the pain away. Please."
"I can't," Nina mumbles, ignoring the way her head hurts at the sight of the broken boy. "I get that you would do anything right now for the pain to stop—but this," she said, gesturing to herself, "Is not the solution."
"Nina, it hurts." Peter said slowly.
"I won't take away the pain, Peter. Because if I do, then you won't mourn." Although she spoke calmly, clinically, Peter knew that it was hard for her when she did. He had seen the pain in her eyes they flickered over to the memoriam of Tony. "Trust me... I know how you feel - I wanted it gone too."
"I tried taking my own pain away and it didn't work no matter how much I tried. I asked my dad... but he refused." Peter heard the regret and shame in her voice - a stark contrast to her abrasive nature. "He told me that taking the pain away would only do more harm than good."
