LUNATIC | Peter Parker x Reader

⓱ R i g h t a s r a i n

You were comforting and quiet
How did love become so violent?

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P A R K E R

   Wanda Maximoff, according to the database, has no criminal records, and is someone who I shouldn't be paranoid about. Maybe she was really into Ned, maybe she was a good person, although my feelings said otherwise there was nothing I could do.

   Before going home, I stopped by to buy ingredient to make dinner, I stopped by at the newspaper about the disappearance of (Y/n) Stark, all the theories and conspiracies all sounds so funny, I bought the paper back with me.

   It started raining, my body was all wet, when I entered the house I made footprints of rain all over. I hurried and took the stuff I need down to the basement. When I opened up the door she was near the fireplace, warming up from the low temperature.

   "Oh... no... I'm so sorry I'm late. You must be so cold."

   She looked at me. "I'm alright. I was just afraid you might not coming back."

   "Not coming back?"

   "Like, if you were out there and get hit by a car or something, nobody would know about me, and I'll be down here."

  "You know I can't risk telling anyone."

   "I know, so I could just hope that at the end of every day you came back."

   "Of course, and I brought lots of things to kill your boredom. Newspaper about you... Books... more books..."

   "How about a television, or a phone?"

   "So you can use it to call and ask for help? Darling, I'm a psychopath, not a moron."

   "I had to try." She shrugged. "Think about it. If I'll never get to leave this place you should at least find me something to do... like a guitar, or a Mp3 player, I would kill for a walk man at this point."

   I stopped cooking to think. "I have a radio." I put the knife down and headed outside to another room, at the top counter, Ben's old radio was still there, I took it down, back to the room, wiped off the dust. "It's still working."

   I pushed the play and Ben's favorite soft jazz played, we sat there, listened to it.

   "Who's Ben?" She asked.

   Don't.

   "You always avoid talking about him. I barely know anything about you."

   My eyes met hers, then it went down at the radio, the music set the room to the cool tone, it made the sound of the thunderstorm outside less scary.

   "My parents was killed in front of me." I said. "Uncle Ben and Aunt May raised me ever since. They were aware of the part of my brain that went wrong. Anterior insular cortex, the brain that control the empathy of me wasn't right, that was how the doctors explained it."

   "What happened to them?" She asked softly, I could feel her getting closer.

   "Well, they almost did an excellent job at keeping my monster inside, but then Ben died, and this.... thirst for killing returned to me."