To keep you- Miguel O'Hara/Peter B Parker

Nothing new

⚠️TW slight overdose⚠️

I didn't want to spoil anything before the chapter even started but I want to make sure people are comfortable reading the story :)

Enjoy!

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Peter watched Miguel halfway up the stairs turn, an iron grip on the railing. All Peter B knew was that he hoped to God he wasn't about to be kicked out for saying something that even he knew he probably shouldn't have.

"Excuse me?" Miguel raised a tired eyebrow.

Well, it's too late to go back now. Peter reasoned to himself.

"I told you I'm staying the night." Peter made an advance for Miguel. He started to climb the stairs only to falter when Miguel began backing up them, worry draped over his face like a soft satin sheet.

"Absolutely not." Peter watched Miguel's hand clutch tightly onto the bag he was holding.

"Oh come on Miguel, it might be nice for you to have some company right now! And to be honest, I would like the company too. Things aren't exactly going great with Mj." Peter looked down sheepishly at his feet, admiring the carpet below him, it was extremely intricate and he figured it's probably just as old as the house itself.

"Good for you." Miguel growled, turning back around and hurrying his way up the rest of the stairs leaving Peter alone half way up.

Well, that didn't go as planned. He really isn't doing well.

"That hurt you know!" Peter B yelled up the stairs to seemingly nobody.

He sighed and decided to give Miguel some space by checking in on Gabriella instead. Peter made his way towards the back of the house where the kitchen sat with the big rectangular window that looked out on their gardens and lawn.

As he approached it, he began to notice how overgrown the garden was getting. Whenever Miguel had him and Mj over they would always enjoy eating outside in the perfectly manicured garden. He could always tell how proud Miguel was of himself for it. But now, weeds had sprouted up all over and some of the plants had shriveled. The grass was getting long as well. Poor Miguel, he was overwhelmed enough as it is without having to upkeep his house on his own as well. Peter B couldn't even imagine what he would be like on his own but he knew that it probably wouldn't be very pretty.

Peter brought his attention up from the garden and back to the little girl playing in it. Towards the back of the lawn there was a soccer net set up and Peter watched as the girl lined up six soccer balls and kicked each one flawlessly into the net. Peter B wondered how proud Miguel must be of her. He had heard Miguel talk about how she always seems like she's one step ahead of the team, and now Peter B was beginning to see why.

Peter walked over to the back door and stepped outside.

"Hey! Want someone to practice with?" He called out.

Gabriella turned around, her eyes lighting up.

"Yes please!" She came running over to Peter B with a soccer ball at her feet.

"I'll warn you now, I'm not very good. Like, at all." Peter B smiled, embarrassed. In school he was never a very sporty kid. He liked them enough but he wasn't good at them by any means.

"That's ok! Everyone starts somewhere!"

Peter B found it a little depressing that a ten year old just had to console him and tell him everyone starts somewhere. Not his best moment.

Miguel watched the two from his bedroom window. Man, Peter B was really bad at soccer. Miguel wondered how Gabriella could smile at a time like this. He wished he could do the same.

Miguel stepped away from the window and went to the bed stand that sat next to the unmade bed. He looked at the photo he had of him and Peter. Peter's face was smooshed up against his, his lips pressed to Miguel's cheek, Miguel's shy smile against his face.

He looked at the photo for a moment more before slowly lowering it face down on the table. Miguel felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but the rest of his face stayed stoic. He exhaled and grabbed the bag that lay on the bed. Opening it, he took out the gun and rapture. Nothing new. He shoved the gun into his arm. Nothing new. He shivered at the feeling. Nothing new. He began to eye the other vials of rapture hidden deep within the bag, he quickly fumbled to grab another one, not a single thought was going through his head at that point. Nothing new. He clicked it into place and faltered right above his arm before sinking it into his arm.

Something new.

He sat on the corner of his bed and stared at himself in the mirror of the vanity that he and Peter had shared. I wonder what Peter would be doing right now. Miguel thought to himself. He had a thought. He tried standing but his legs tingled, two things of rapture was a stupid idea. He knees gave and he hit the floor, his claws came out and dug into the carpet. He tried to get them to go back in but they wouldn't. That had never happened before. His vision blurred, but he blamed it on sleep. He sat on his knees and focused on getting his claws to go back. They wouldn't. He was getting frustrated. Miguel tried over and over before lashing out and tearing up the carpet. In the end he gave up and attempted standing again, but he still couldn't support his own weight. He ended up crawling to the dresser, his claws still aggravatingly out. His breathing increased,

"Since when did crawling become so difficult?" He muttered in annoyance with himself.

He reached for the drawer with Peters shirts. He opened it, a talon scratching the wood of the drawer as he did. Inside lay the untouched pieces. Miguel very carefully ran a hand over them before picking up his favorite. It didn't look like much of an interesting shirt, but it looked wonderfully lovely on Peter. It was gray but had salmon plaid stripes that painted the gray with color. Miguel leaned his head against the vanity and brought the shirt up to his nose. He closed his eyes and imagined Peter holding him in a warm hug. This time, the tears that were threatening to fall, did. 

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OH NO MIGUELS REALLY NOT DOING WELL NOW-

Cya soon!