Febufluff-whump 2020

Day 4: Red Stains (Febuwhump) - MCU

Summary: After experiencing the death of their final relatives Peter and Grace arrive at the apartment where they break and start to realize how they need each other even more than they thought they did.

       I looked down at my hands. The hands which just thirty minutes ago had held Aunt May as she gave her dying breath, her last words, "Stay Strong." Echoed through my brain and I couldn't help, but let the tears fall from my eyes and hit the floor. Pete and I were back at the apartment changed out of our suits and unable to move anymore. Everyone we get close to dies. First Mom and Dad, and now Aunt May and Uncle Ben. With no other living relatives we will be sent to an orphanage. Hopefully they aren't as bad as the movies, books, and TV shows I have seen.

       My hands had May's blood on them. A bright crimson against my too-pale skin from me not eating too much over the previous months. It completely coated some of my fingers from where I had put my hands and applied pressure to try and stop the bleeding. My palms after that had blood in some places while in other places it showed like it was dripping off my hands. It haunted me. I could smell it, the raw scent of iron mixed with May's scent decorating my hands in a cruel way. Reminding me of not moving fast enough, or not saving her, for her not coming home to Peter and I tonight.

       I was trembling. I had been for a good while. Tears rolling down my face, the air around me seeming colder than it really was, my senses masked mostly other than the smell of blood. Peter immediately had suppressed his emotions the moment we started swinging home. He probably was paying complete attention to one of his broken retro-tech machines so he didn't have to think about what just happened.

      He always did that, buried his emotions in work. Whether it was school work, Spider-manning, or anything in and around he would put his full focus into it and suppress whatever he was feeling. He had already taken a shower. It wouldn't be good if Child Services showed up when we were covered in blood. I hadn't been able to move though, so I hadn't done anything.

       The wound on my side from the bullet that grazed it was still fresh and hurt a whole heckin' lot, but I couldn't bare to move. All I could do was stare at the red stains on my hands.

       I forced myself to my feet, my mind slowly becoming more dull as I wandered into the kitchen. My mind on autopilot as I rinsed my hands off, using a little soap. The crimson fading and the crusty blood falling into the sink and going down the drain. Covered in a dull red I didn't have the heart to wash off. I shut off the water and wandered into Peter's room.

       My assumption of him putting on a strong front was totally wrong. He was lying with his head buried in his pillow. His body continuously racking with sobs. His other pillows were wet with his teardrops. His left hand was red and clutched madly at his sheets. He grabbed fistful after fistful, probably without thinking, and pulled at it. His normally curly hair was flat against his head sticking out every which way from not brushing. He really was a mess.

       I focused all my energy into steadying my voice. I made sure it was level and wouldn't randomly change pitch or cause me to burst into tears. "Hey, Pete?" I almost whispered. I heard a sniffle in response and moved closer to sit on the side of his bed. "Pete, Buddy, I know it's hard." I kept my voice level with as much of the emphasis on the caring feeling as I could muster.

       I didn't expect him to whip up giving me a stare dead in the eyes. His face was puffy from crying. His eyes red and tear stains littered every inch of his face. "How are you so calm right now?" He said, his voice breaking under the pressure. It was a mix of anger, tiredness, and scariness mixed together. "How, after all we have been through are you so calm? If a month ago... I could have lost you all..."

        My heart broke at this so even more of my attention had to be forced to keeping my voice the calming voice my twin needed. "Peter, I'm not ok, but unfortunately months of going through this has taught me how to hide it. I'm just as distraught as you are." I paused to take a shaky breath. "Besides, I have to say it like this, I really do, but at least it wasn't one of us."

       As much as I hated saying that because it sounded selfish, I knew it was true. If Peter ever died I would spiral downwards into a hole I could never climb back up from. The same would probably happen to Peter if I met an untimely death. I grabbed onto Peter and pulled him up so he was sitting beside me before thrusting him into a strong hug. He laid his head on my shoulder and I felt some tears meet the loose fabric of my shirt.

       I was comforting to him, and he was comforting to me. I forced him to let go of me, but I did it gently as my to hurt or worry him. I laid him down on the bed so his head touched the pillow and moved to rub soothing circles into his back. It always helped him calm down. I hummed a familiar tune to calm his slowly fading nerves. I smiled as his body stopped shaking and his breathing steadied to his normal sleeping pace. Time to head back to my room.

       Or so I thought. His hand was still clutched onto mine. He felt more comfortable with me there so unintentionally he had stuck himself to me with his spider-powers. I gave a light tug when I realized it just to make sure. The only way to get him to unstick would be to wake him up, but I'm not doing that. He needs his sleep on such a stressful night. I sat down in bed next to him and grabbed his phone.

       I might as well have some entertainment if I'm going to be here all night. There is no way I will be able to sleep. Especially with those bright red stains haunting me every time I close my eyes.

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Word Count: 1082