my guardian angel | peter parker x gn!reader

s i x

i'm sorry

"Excuse me."

You were alone, after having to split from the group only ten minutes ago. The tremble in your hands didn't help the small quiver in your lip. You couldn't stay there any longer, it was suffocating. Each glance in your direction added to the pile that sat upon your shoulders. The pile of blame. Nobody spoke. What was the point when all of you were thinking the same thing? But the silence whispered in your ears. They hate you. It's your fault. You don't belong here. You didn't want them to see the tears ready to overflow from your eyes. You didn't want to prove that you were weak. So you left. You ran away from the others, to somewhere more secluded.

You had the dagger drawn. Why didn't you strike?

Shut up.

You watched them lose. Why didn't you help?

Shut up.

Why are you so useless?

I said shut up!

The sack on your shoulders got heavier, and heavier until it was hard to breathe. You choked on your self-hatred, strangled by the blame. Who knew it would only take one day to completely break you?

A painful sting in your left forearm brought you back to reality. You turned your wrist over so that the bloodied cut on your arm was visible, and examined the wound. Your entire forearm had been covered in that dreaded red liquid, a few blotches here and there dried already. You'd managed to keep a straight face up until now - the adrenaline had drowned out the pain - but the truth was it hurt like a bitch. You brought your hand to graze the wound, provoking a sharp sting to run through your arm. And yet, you didn't move your hand. You continued examining the wound until there was nothing new to see. Just a scrape covered in red. I'm sorry, Gamora. I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry I couldn't help you, make you proud.

I'm sorry I wasn't good enough.

"Y/N?"

The sudden voice threw you out of your skin, and you swiftly wiped the tears from your eyes, unaware of the blood you were smearing across your face. Of all people, you didn't exactly expect Peter to check on you. Sure, he was sweet, but you'd only met a few hours ago.

To your dismay, Peter noticed the redness of your eyes, along with the red substance beneath them. "Holy shit, are you okay?" he exclaimed, reaching a hand toward your face.

You flinched back slightly in surprise, before reaching your own hand toward your face and collecting a sample of the blood that was smeared across your cheeks. Did I injure my face as well? You thought for a moment until you were interrupted by a hand around your left wrist. Peter pulled your arm toward him, examining the large wound as you had been doing beforehand. "How did-" He stopped himself, realizing 'how did it happen?' was probably a stupid question. "Does it hurt?"

You were tempted to say no in the hope it would stop him from worrying. But it hurt like hell and you wanted help. Perhaps he could help you. You slowly nodded your head, staring down at the large gash. "Shit." He looked around frantically, despite knowing there wouldn't be any medical supplies still stranded on an abandoned planet. "I don't have any bandages on me. Or anything." He looked into your eyes, allowing you to properly see the worry and guilt inside them. But what did he have to be guilty for? "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Your voice was small; you really didn't feel like talking.

Your gaze drifted toward the jacket he had placed beside him when he sat down. It was yours. "Oh, right." When realizing what you were looking at, he picked up your jacket, handing it to you. "I found it after you ran off. I thought you might want it."