YA KNOW I'VE BEEN TOO NICE TO PETER he shall now... s̸̢̡̨̡̢̢̧̢̧̡̨̢̢̢̢̡̡̢̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̥̪̭̬̤͓̭̲̠͈̥͎̫͉͔̪̳̼͚̬̰̤̞̙͖̞͇̩̦̼̮̼̭̘͕̰̼̠͖͖̘̹̗̟͍̪̖͕̬̝͇̟̦͔͈͓͉̞͇͇̣͚͎̹̝̙͙̱̭̘̥͈͎̦̖͔̹̙̰̗̜̼̤͎̳̝̻̼̤̞̹̘͙̳͙̫͉̹̞̺̹͖͔̼̘̬͇͖̙̹̪̥̠͙̜̤͚̠̣̙̹̪̞̥͓̙̤̠͈̮̥̳̜̯̳̖͉͍͕̜͉͕̞̫̣̖̜̹͇̠͎̩͕͙̬̯̗̩͚̘̹̠͕̗̟̖̜̭̦̫̫͖̬̭͈̤̟̹̻͕͓̱̦̝͍̲̦͚̖̞̤͉͓̩̥̞̺̬͉̰̗̤͍̩͖̪̠͖͖̜͎̝͚̪͈̬̖̰̣̪͍̠̦̙͖̣̟̻̘̯̝̰̲̻̗̄̀̋̓̄͋͋̇̈̎͂̅̀̿̈̍͐̅̄̒̈́͗͂͊̈́̑͂̌̔̌̎̓̍͌̿̈́̐̈̅̇̂̑̏̈́̿̂̄̑͒̋̉͂̓̔́͒͒́̆̒̒̃͑̈̈́̋͂͋̐̽̅̑̀̃̃̄͗̅̓͛͂͒̋̾̿͗̀͑̄̇̄̏͑̂͊̒̀̂̉̀̒̊̑̎̌̇͌̀̊͊͂́̉̊͂̽̑͐̄̋̂̏͌͌̾̽̌̀̈́̈́͊̏̋̌̐͑̓̇͌̎̂̌͑̾͌̃͗̈́̊̿̇̏̽̽͂̓̅̀͛͌͆̈́́̍͐͐͒̉̂̍̋̈́͌̀̊̆̀̈̊̀͑̓̋͊̓͒́̀̂̉͛̒͋̆̌̑̋̓͌̇̏͑̀̍̄́̑͊̀̋̂̔̑̅̒͊̕̚̕̚͘̚̚̕̕̚̚͘̚̚͘̚̕͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅų̷̨̡̨̡̨̧̧̨̡̢̡̢̢̧̡̧̡̢̡̢̛̰͙̠̯͖̘̞̤̣͉̘͇̲͔̭͍̫͖̖̥̤̞̹̱̺͇͕͉̥̹̬͖͓̬̯̭̪̗͓̮̱̭̻̩͉̤̪̜̤͚͕͉̣̮͖͓̖̲͚̰̖̝̭͔͍͖̭̪̫̤̰̤̘͖͍̦̣̭͈̖̫̙̙̩̹̮̰̖͓͕̻̰̼̙̲̭̗͉̣̝̭͈͇̦̹̼̦̥̮͈͈̬̬̠̦̯͖̘̘͖̲̳̙̤̪̼̟͈̺͈̦̝̩͖̻̪̱̩̼͇̹̝͉͕̝̹̦̰̩̟͇̳̦̪̺̆͒̃̄͂̽͑̌̈́́̇̐̇̇̾̌̇̀̃̽́̃̏̀̄̀̆͊́̀̆̾͐̋̾̾̅̆̌̀͛̎͊̄̉̈́͑̾́̑̓̐̌̐̃́́̒̋̊̌̄̑̉́̑͌̽͛̂̒́́͑̂̈́̿̃̒̑̀̍̏̋̀̈̋̃̓̿̉͊͊̈͐́̓̌̀͆̀̓̽͊́̓̈́̂̉̊̋̔̆͗̇͋͑̍̍͂̏͑̒͋͌͆̈́́̏̊͌̽̇͒̔̈́̑̆́̌̃͒͌̋͊͐́͂̏͛͑̄̂̈́́̕̕̚̕̕͘͘͘̚͘̕͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅf̵̢̢̢̧̡̢̡̧̡̧̛̛͔̫͖̻͉̭͕̮͕̬̭͍͍̮̮̞͔̘̩̼͍͉̬̰͖̻͓̲̟̱͇̣͚̜͎̠͎͕͇̗͇̩͚̲̙͍̦̗̗̹̟̯͇̺̩͍͕̪̲̞̝̞̣̠͓̞͇͍̘̦͍̯͍̹̬͇̣̰̖̰̹̙̝̤̹̺̱͖͓̱̬̹̘̻̦̲̫͍̮̭͋̽͆́̍̏̇̉͐̑̎̌̓͋͒̈́̋̅̊̂̀̈́͒̉̏̍́̀̈́͂̓͂͊͑̈́̉͗̀̿͛̀̇͑̒̀̀͋́̀͐̑̅̈́̑̑̾̀̈̅͋̍͒̀͆̌͒͗̅͗̇͒͂̀̊̐̍̀̎͌͐̀̆͆̿̑̓̇̔̄̅̂̀̂̅́̽̑͊̃̂̀̓̃͂̀̈́̈́͛̑̒̉̆̏̓͋͐̉͗͋̔́̓̂͑̍̃̐͒͊͆͋̓̒̿̆̉͒͒̈́̈̔̽̐͗̈́̇̀̇̋͗̿̎̾̆̓̌͊͆̀̈́̐̉̊̒̌͌͑͌̈́̓̑́̑́͌̿͆̌̓̊̆̀̽̾́͆͊̉͗̾̈́̐́̎̓͛̃̽́̎̃̂̃̀̂̃́͛̒̐̂̆̄͗͐͋̾͗̒̏̇̆̇́̏̀̑̈́͋̒̒̔̏̀̊̀̾̅͆͂̋̑͆͂̈́̾̈́͂́̚̕̕͘͘̕̕̕̕͘̕͘̕͘̕͘̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅf̵̢̢̡̧̢̧̨̡̡̡̧̧̧̡̢̡̧̡̨̧̢̢͕̺̝͖̝̞̞̤̳͈̘̙̩̹̣̦̮̺̪̳̞̼̬̹͔̪̼̩̳̠͍̜̩̱͙̝͙̮̘̦̯͇̦̩̬̖̤̝͇̩̞̗̣̟̥͇̟̣̠̝̱̥̠͎͙͍̩̙̘̤̙̯̤̞̭̠̱̼͕̺̯̫̣̤̣͚̺̬͇͚͎̬̰͈̗͕̻͉̟̜̗̼͎̯̬̱̺̟̥̙̥̲͎͈͍͚̜̙͎͕̩͎͖͎͎̗̻̻̲͚̘̻͉̭̮̝̖̪͈̘̱̤̖̣̦̫̠͔͓̥̗͉͎̟̰̗͍̖͕̭̙̫̜̦̖̺̠͎̰̪̗̺̹̭̪͉͚̞̖̯͙̲̲̼̻͎͈̼͖̟̟͈͔̹̳̣͙̼͇̘̙̱̻̣̮͖̬̜̹͉̜̟̘̺̗̝̫̳͓͔̳̲̘̮͉̫̫̪̯͖͈̞̘̖̱͚͉̭̞͎͙̾̍̾̿̓͜͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅe̵̡̨̨̢̡̨̢̢̧̡̡̧̧̛̛̖̩͓̮̠̗̺̼͖̣̲̖̥̻͕̝͙̪̦̫͈͎͈̻͓̖̥͎̬̫̘͓̹͎̠̥̝̫̭̤͉̮̮̗̜͈̟̘̹̬̤̜̯͇̳͉̲̼̭̫̜͓̹̗̯̮̞̻͍̞̟̩̱̜̟̣̬̣̩̳̭̟̥͈̖͔͙̥̯̟͎̼͔̗͚̗͖̯͓͇͚̞̼̲̬̩̘̤̲̪̟̺̱̳͌̐́̍̋̂̽̓̈́͛̒̀͆̆̑̽̈̎̾̿͛̾͌̋̆͆̉̅͛̈̒̀̅̀̍͑̓̔̈͆͗̈́̃̈́͐̂͆̈́̑͂̃͒̐̑̈́͐͌̌́̀̑̅̍̂̈́̀͒̏̓͌͂͊͆̋͛̉̕̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅͅŗ̸̧̢̧̢̢̧̢̧̧̨̧̨̢̢̡̢̡̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̥̪͕͉͍̳͇̻̗̮̱̰̘̱̣̣̲̠̺̲̟̝̙̖͈̗̩̥̗̰̹̩̙͔̪̹̙̤̲̗͇̝̭̘̤̪͍̼̙̩̥͈͔͔̱̣̩̯̜̜̙̺̺͓͔̙̥̟̰̫͕̘̻̰̫̦̬̝͈͓̯̙̘̝̭̩͙̺̲͚͇̘̝̭̤̻͍͓̥͖̺̯̬̯̥͇̦̜̮̦̮̝͈̯̬̣̫̰̗͓̝̟͇̙̫͕̩̠̲̭̠̩̺̲̗̮̤̞̪͈̝̪̩̞͉̼̰͕͖͉͕̯̟̠͉̱͚̬̞̝͍̫̰̜̭̫͙͕̣͔̎̅̿̍̏̆̌̂͂͗̅͂́͌̓̇̑̒́̔͛͐̒̌͂̊͛̎̓̎͗́̔̆̔͑̏̋̏̿̂̐͌̆̆̀̿͛́̔̏̆̅͊̀̉̈́͑̀̅͆̆͗͗̃̂̾̅́̅̌̈̋͌̆̌̓̇̔́̔͋̂͛̈̿̀͂̈̈́̇͊̅͌͐̓̓́͑̓͗͆̀̆̐̓̑̏̔̇̓̎̉̏́͋̓͛̉̈́͑͂̀͑̀̋̄́̎͒̍̉̀͛̍̒̊̄̋́́̕̕̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ ̵̨̢̧̛̛̛̛̛͕̳̪̱̤̰̪̼͉̻̼̞̠̟̰̰̙̭͇̗̺̦̫͕̫͐͂̀̓̓́̈́̈̈́̑̌̓̐͂́͂̓̓̀͂̊͑̑̃̍̈́̈̉͆͑̎̏̓̋́̊̃́̂̇̈̀̎̈́͑͂̊̎͑͒̉̉́̃́̓͗̈̾̑̋̀̓͋̽̉́̉͋̀͒͊̑̓̂̃̎̑̃͋̉͋̈́̒̈̓͂̂̔̈́͒̿̐̈́̀͆̊́̄̅͊̾̑́̈͂͂̓̓́̀̃͂͂́͆̈́̂͑̽̀̈́͛̎̈͐͂̀̍̅̈́̉̃̓̊̔̆̀̿̎̂̽̅̏̂̄̔̾̂̄̄́̀̃̈́̑̃̈́̈̔̽̑̃̅̊̆̈́̊̂͐̀̊̍͗͑̋̌̈́͐̓̿̋̽̓̄̈́̉́͆̒̑́͂͛̋̓̊̿̇͐͘̚͘͘͘̚͘̚͘̕͘̚̕̕̚̚̚̚̕̚̕̚͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝
Peter woke up, and checked his alarm clock.
'3:44' it read.
He sighed, and rolled over in bed, tucking the blankets over his frail body more. He did not want to be alive. The dark circles under his eyes screamed for sleep.
He slept for 7 hours, yet he still feels so tired. He wants to sleep so desperately, he craves the ability to sleep without any thoughts, but it's impossible.
How can he sleep when his only friends barely talk to him anymore? What happened to talking everyday to barely interacting with them? He cradled his stuffed unicorn to his chest.
He knew it was dumb to be so attached, to of all the things, a unicorn stuffed animal. But, this was something his mother got him, so how could he not love it?
It is the closest thing he has that semi-represents his mother. God, he missed her.
His phone plays music in the background, and he hears the song '505' by Arctic Monkeys
He sighed sadly. No one had texted him in 3 days straight. He often wondered what would happen if he stopped texting first. He didn't want to admit it but he knew that his phone would be radio silence.
Why wouldn't it be radio silence? It was obvious no one liked him. He knew that for a fact. He knew that when he tried texting everyone, waiting for hours for anything, but no one responded.
He gave up after day 6. He knew it was hopeless. He sighed. Did no one actually love him? He tried to reason with himself about May, but even she barely spoke with him.
He rolled over in bed. He really wanted to die. It was official. Peter Parker officially no longer wanted to be alive, yet no one batted and eye.
He wanted to get out of bed, to do anything productive, but his body decided against it, begging him to just stay in bed. Because truly, no one cared if he was alive or dead.
He rolled over once more to have his body facing the wall. Struck with utter defeat against life he stayed in his bed, knowing no one cared.
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Spider-Man oneshots
General Fictiona bunch of fluff and angst Spider-Man oneshots this includes, Field trips Texting Suicide Injured And more! (Spanish version on my profile)
