Tick Tock Goes the Clock

Chapter 9

"Lover." Felicia leaned casually against her doorway in a tight white t-shirt and low-rise jeans. She moved out of the way and beckoned him in.

He traipsed in, trying really hard to not look half-dead as he did so. The door closed behind him and Felicia's hands were on his shoulders, guiding him further into the apartment he knew all too well. Reaching the living room, he let his weight drop onto the couch. Felicia disappeared for a second and came back with a glass of white liquid. She put it in Peter's hands telling him to "drink up".

Peter eyed the ice cubes bouncing around, hitting each other and the side of the glass with a clack every few seconds. The glass was cold and droplets of condensation crept down its side, hitting his hand with a cold sting.

It felt like it was a million miles away.

"What is th's?" He slurred.

"Powerade. Cherry flavour, your favourite."

"Oh. Ha ha... cool." He smiled a little and drank it.

Once he was finished, Felicia took the glass from him and combed a hand through his hair. With a start, he realized she was sitting right next to him. Also he was leaning heavily against her. She was warm and soft and safe. Peter hummed happily.

"You're so good to me." His voice was a quiet murmur and his eyes were closed.

"You deserve it." Her hand guided his head into the crook of her neck while the other wrapped around his shoulder, squeezing him close. "What happened?"

"Mr. Stark."

"What was it about?"

"He... he apologized."

She took a second to plant a kiss on his head then murmured into his hair. "And you didn't want to accept?"

"I don't know." Bright neon spots bloomed and died in a repetitive pattern behind his lids. "It doesn't make it better."

"You don't have to forgive, you know. It's ok to not forgive. So long as it doesn't weigh on you."

"I... I think.... I think I want to... but I... can't. I don't feel like it'll change anything. He's still... maybe if I knew he would be different... but I don't."

"Mmm. I understand. You don't want to accept the apology if he's going to do it again. That's ok. That's valid."

"I wanna..."

"And you can when you're ready. Give yourself time."

Memories twisted through his mind like a fever dream. The good and the bad meshing together in delirium, cracking his chest open and burrowing into his heart.

"I..."

"Yes, Lover?"

"I don't feel so good..."

A pause. She shifted under him. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

"I don't..." He blinked. The world was far below him, stretching like a runner band about to break. His skin was white hot fuzz with no structure. Light, sound, and feeling all blurred together. "I don't feel..."

"Peter?"

The world drained away.

. . .

They both heard the sound of a window shattering in the hall.

"Fucking hell, we do not have time for this!" Stephen yelled, fuming at the premise of another attack by those fucking mutants.

Storming outside the lab, he came to a jarring halt at the sight. It was that Blackcat burglar standing among a floor of broken glass. Her body language was tense. Stephen's eyes landed on a boy who was thrown over her shoulders, as still as a sack of potatoes.