Air I Breathe

Chapter 4

And sometimes I pray
That maybe I will change
Into who you think I am

Why do you keep reaching for my hand?
Do you see something I can't?
Why do you try to save me?
This fate is well deserved
I only make things worse
Why do you try to save me?
-"Save Me" by Noah Kahan

Chapter 4
Tuesday, December 24 - Christmas Eve

Peter finally feels well enough to shower (with help, of course, which he hates, but Aunt May doesn't seem to mind, so he guesses it's fine) and eat some solid food; Pepper's made her infamous chocolate chip muffins, and he's managed to eat the entire top off of one, which has earned him some relieved smiles from May. They've got him back on the cannula for continuous oxygen, but he's happy to be on the living room couch, watching Netflix and going through the stream of unread messages on his phone while he waits for his next breathing treatment. Tony's been tinkering in his lab, popping in to check on him here and there while Pepper and May make themselves busy around the tower preparing for dinner guests the next day. Tony's argued against having people over at all, but Bruce thinks it's a good idea as long as Peter stays on his med schedule and gets to bed at a decent hour.

After detailing a modified version of the last four days to Ned and reassuring him that he's alive and well via text, Peter opens his conversation with MJ and pauses with his thumbs over the keyboard.

You okay? Super worried about you, she's texted in every variation possible.

Just a little chest infection, no big deal, he responds, thinking that his text is the understatement of the century.

You passed out, she counters, an ellipsis appearing as she continues. That's not little.

I'm sorry I missed your party, he adds, deflecting from the obvious. Wanted to be there.

Wish you could have been. I'm having some friends over tomorrow afternoon to exchange gifts if you're free.

Peter's heart rate picks up, happiness flooding through him as he tries to think of a good response. And then he remembers the oxygen line under his nose and the way his lungs are starting to get itchy again as the four hours between his last treatment and his next tick by, and he feels his whole body deflate. There's no way he'll be able to go, the truth painful enough that Peter closes his eyes and rubs his face to keep from crying. He hasn't had an opportunity to think about school and Ned and MJ, has been too sick to think about anything other than breathing, and all this does is invite in the fear of how he's going to manage being Peter, being Spiderman, if this doesn't get better.

Tony appears in the doorway, watching as Peter sniffles and reaches toward the giant box of tissues Pepper has left for him on the coffee table. "FRIDAY gave me a high heart rate alert. You doing okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, pulling the oxygen tubing down so that he can blow his nose. "Just FOMO."

"FOMO?" Tony asks, perplexed as he sits down beside Peter on the couch.

Peter sighs, annoyed that he has to explain, and blows his nose before saying, "Fear of missing out." He picks up the oxygen tubing and untangles it in his lap.

"Here, let me help," Tony offers, but Peter swats his hands away and works at lining up the notches to his nose so that they're comfortable.

"I can do it myself." There's a sharpness to Peter's tone that Tony doesn't like, but he doesn't call him out on it because he knows what Peter's going through. He's been there, knows what it feels like to have your body betray you, can remember all too well the anger and denial of what's happening to take over your every thought. He doesn't want to take this time to work through everything away from Peter, especially not after the last few days. This time alone, albeit monitored by FRIDAY and those nearby, is important. But Tony also knows Peter needs to talk, that he hasn't had an opportunity to other than to verbalize his panic, and he wants to give him space to do that, too.