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Self Harm Part 2

(this is self harm part 2, THE STUPID NAME WON'T SAVEEEEE)

requested by booksarelife84. OK SO UM THIS WILL NOW BE 3 PARTS 

And when i first wrote this chapter i accidentally thought peter was cutting his thighs before i remembered people was cutting his arm ;-; i went back and replaced thigh with arm but i might've missed some parts so, if it mentions the cuts on hos thighs or if he is cutting his thighs PLEASE replace thighs with arm

TW. for suicidal thoughts and self harm, pleas don't read if it affects you in any way <3

Peter was terrified, but then again, he wasn't.

Fear had been following him around the entire day, his sleevs rubbing against the cuts on his arms  and causing irritation to spread. The tears seemed to always be present in his eyes, resulting to blame it on his tiredness as he made his way from class to class. Ned had asked him what was wrong, MJ had asked him what was wrong, and even Flash had the decency to back off for a bit.

It was as if everyone in the entire school knew he was a ticking time bomb, as if all of them knew his secret. It was as if they could see right through his jeans and see the countless fresh cuts on the flesh of his thighs, having been repeated so often and so frequently they never had time to completely heal. The actual cutting didn't hurt Peter anymore, though the aftermath and the thoughts afterwards always did.

But today, the thoughts were bad. He'd failed during his patrol the previous day, and he had been beating himself up about it ever since. So many thoughts ran through his mind as he made his way to his last class of the day, English, the tears threatening to make their way down his cheeks as he continued to bottle everything up.

When he entered the room, Ned was instantly waving him over to the seat beside him. Peter did as he was told, slinking across the room before sliding into his chair. Ned was watching him, worry clear in his eyes when Peter turned to meet them. He was on the edge, the one thought running through his mind and scaring him to death as he tried to tell his friend he was okay.

He wanted it to end.

He wanted it to be over.

He wanted his life to be over, because he had failed.

 Peter remembered on Titan, he had said he didn't want to go. He hadn't wanted to go, there were still so many things he wanted to do and so many things he wanted to say.

But now, he wanted to go.

The thoughts terrified him. He had been carrying the burden of self harm around with him for almost a solid year, it having gotten to the point where his skin couldn't repair itself fast enough. This caused the irritation from the fabric of his pants, which annoyed him, but somehow made him want to do it more. Self harm had been reminding him that he was alive, that he could still feel. Nothing had been the same since he had turned to dust on Titan, and gradually, the irritation turned into nothing.

The feeling of being trapped, the numb feeling that had been surging through his veins the entire time he was stuck in the stone. He hadn't been alone, Peter Quill and the other guardians, as they had called themselves, had been there with him. Even Strange had been with him. But he couldn't feel anything, his skin felt numb, his brain felt numb. He would continuously pinch himself, hoping to feel pain to remind him that he was living. But the daunting thought that he was, in fact, dead, and he had left Aunt May and Tony and Ned behind. Even MJ. He still had no idea if they had faded away, too, along with the other half of the universe.

They didn't even remember what had happened. Tony had told him he'd been gone for just over two months, and they had managed to turn back time. He hadn't aged, his friends and classmates hadn't aged, it was as if Thanos had never came and destroyed the universe.