How to kill Peter Parker

Chapter Twenty Five

Friday
10:38 A.M
Wade's POV

"Y-you what? You remember w-what?" 

[You know exactly what Wade]

{You just want him to say it himself}

"I-I, y-y-" He starts, but cuts himself off, releasing his grip on me and scooching back frantically, like the realization had just now suddenly hit him.

I'm in his house. I'm in his bedroom. I'm on his bed with him. We were about to...

"H-how? W-why?!" He stammers. Tears sting my eyes, emptiness fills my chest. There's no doubt he... he really does remember... 

"Peter please let me explain-" I begin, but he jumps off the bed backing up from me, cutting me off. But he seemed to forget he was exhausted from the night before, he backs up and leans against the wall by the air conditioner. The blasting air makes his brown curls bounce around. 

All the guilt comes flooding back.

Oh god what have I done?

"Y-you shot me! R-right h-here-" He says, pulling up his shirt to reveal a scar on his stomach, nearly losing his balance.

"Peter I'm sorry-"

"N-no! No you're not! You shot me and you-you USED me! I trusted you! I-I even-" His voice cracks and he gets quieter, the frustration still in his voice. He drops his shirt back down and moves his hand behind him and leans on the air conditioner. "I thought-"

"Peter please-"

"NO! Don't you dare say that to me! Those were the words you... you... you kept repeating as you watched me die. I died Wade. You killed me. You put me in the hospital, you made me miss my Aunt's death!" He screeches, now sobbing loudly. "You ruined my life..." He trails off, his words only confirming what I had tortured myself with the past three months.

I'm lightheaded. I'm off the bed now, facing Peter, but I don't remember getting up. Tears fill my vision, my hands grip the back of my head and I push as hard as possible, nails digging into my head. Peter's still talking, somewhere, but I don't know where. In front of me? Behind me? He's nowhere but everywhere. I try speaking but I can't even hear myself, all I hear is my life flashing before my eyes.

I met Spiderman months and months ago, he hated me but I found him quite interesting. Next thing I know, he's blushing at my mindless flirting. Then I payed more attention, every time feeling like we were playing a game of some sort and I was winning, sometimes him even getting a boner out of it if I try hard enough. Then I met Peter, his alter ego. I don't know how I hadn't made the connection right then and there. Then I... shot him. Now we're here. Three months later in his apartment after we were about to kiss. 

Something fills my head but I don't know what. All I know is I can't concentrate. I can't think. I don't know anything anymore. Who I am, who the person yelling at me in the distance is, why I'm not in my suit, why I smell alcohol and cookies, why I suddenly grip the edge of a bed when my legs give out. 

I feel like I'm falling a million miles a minute, down an endless abyss of guilt. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't feel, I can't taste, I can't- 

Oh god I can't-

Next thing I know, I hit the floor.

Friday
10:43 A.M

"-and then you pretend to love me and-" I'm cut off by a sudden thump on the floor next to me. I didn't even realize Wade had gotten up I was so concentrated in my rant. I turn to the side to see him passed out on the floor.

"Oh god Wade why now? Why now?" I whine, running my fingers through my hair. I sit on the edge of my bed, hoping it would help my now torturous headache, wiping my tears with my hands and trying to steady my breathing. 

Am I overreacting? 

Then again, how would you feel if you found out the person you were about to kiss had shot you three months ago and put you in a coma? 

Oh god I'm talking to myself again.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?!" I say frantically, not caring about the volume of my voice. I hear Wade's steady breathing near me. I hear the sound of traffic outside and dogs barking on the sidewalk and neighbors being, neighbors. How can I calm down? How do I calm down?!

None of this overthinking is helping, and I just go right back into that breakdown I was having. I sit all the way up on my bed and hold my legs in my arms, rocking back and forth, uncontrollable tears streaming down my face. 

I thought... I thought maybe...

Why can't love just work out for me?!

Friday
3:12 P.M
Wade's POV

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. 

[Does this normally happen?] 

{I mean Wade is an overdramatic baby, but I've never seen... this. This is just beyond that level. Shame on you Wade now-}

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.

My world fades in and out. 

Fade in. Fade out. Fade in. Fade out. 

For a couple seconds, I can hear my boxes chattering, and I can feel myself waking up. Then my world falls apart again, and my head feels like it's underwater... pressure everywhere, and I can't hear a thing.

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.

[Come on Wade get up!]

{Yeah, I'm bored}

After the fading in and out process repeats a couple times, I finally catch the state of consciousness. I dizzily rise from my position on a couch. I rub my eyes and look around, my brain finally processing where I was- I was in Peter's apartment.

Peter.

I finally piece together every moment of what happened. I suck in a breath and shoot up from the couch. I run to Peter's room. He's not there.

Bathroom? Nope.

Kitchen? Nada. 

And he's clearly not in the living room.

Closet?

No.

"God dammit!" I screech, hitting my head with my hand.

I quietly make my way back to the couch. Where was Peter?

I sit down and try to slow my racing heart. I purse my lips and look around, thinking.

[Where is Peter?]

"Does it look like I know?!" I ask angrily.

{He ran away from you Wade, you're a killer, remember?}

"Shut the fuck up."

{You know it's damn true.}

"I said SHUT UP!" I screech, ignoring the tears in my eyes. I stand up from the couch angrily about to storm out of the room or knock something down or do anything to release these... emotions.

But something catches my eye.

[What the hell is that?]

{It's a piece of paper you idiot}

I roll my eyes at the boxes and pick up the folded note off the coffee table. In neat handwriting, it reads "Wade" on the cover. I gulp and open the letter.

"Wade,

I don't know where you live, so I put you on my couch. I'm out running a couple errands. You better be out of my apartment by 6. I don't want to see you again.

- Peter."