𝐝𝐞𝐣𝐚 𝐯𝐮, peter parker

xlix. punch him, he will bleed

chapter forty-nine
punch him, he will bleed

    HE HAD messed up. He had messed up bad. Peter didn't think he knew how to describe how bad he had messed up. He clenched his hand, his anger growing at each jab Happy made trying to stitch up the gash on his back. Peter took a deep breath, closing his eyes and pressing his knuckles against his lips. He wanted to cry, and he tried very hard not to. But he couldn't help the lump that was starting to become unbearable in his throat as he thought about everything. He was in terrible pain, his knuckles were bloody and he was sure one of his ribs were broken. He was lost and he was beaten━he had been toyed and played with; lied to and betrayed. Used and thrown out like trash━not cared enough about to even be placed inside a New York dumpster. Peter didn't know who to trust, who and what was real ... he didn't know what to do and he was scared━he was terrified, and he wanted to cry. 

     He hadn't been this terrified since he had been trapped underneath that collapsing building what felt like just two years ago to him, but now had nearly been six. He had been fifteen and he had been desperate━screaming and crying out for help. The person to help him had been Tony; his voice reminding him who he truly was. Now, Tony was gone. He wasn't there to give Peter his determination━to tell him that if he was nothing without his suit, then he should not have it. 

    Tony Stark trusted Peter Parker━so much that he had given him the responsibility of those glasses ... and Peter had thrown all of that away. And now, the world━his friends━were going to suffer because of it. 

    He wondered whether if Mr. Stark was alive right now, he would be disappointed. He would look at Peter and wonder why he had ever believed in him in the first place. And that made Peter want to cry the most. 

    "Okay," Happy was murmuring, looking through the glasses perched at the bottom of his nose. "Okay, hold still ... There we go..."

     Peter winced, his other hand gripping the table tight. They were sitting in one of the booths of the private plane Happy still authorised under Stark Industries. It was small, but it was fancy. The seats were velvet and the tables were a clean polished wood. Down the back led to a on-flight kitchen and restroom. 

     At the next jab of the needle, Peter gritted his teeth, "Ouch━" he let out, doing his best to distract himself. 

     "I thought you had super strength," muttered Happy.

    Peter rolled his eyes, not in the mood. "It still hurts," he grumbled. 

     He was already tense and he knew that made the next stitch hurt like hell━but Peter still snapped, "Happy, come on━"

    "All right," he argued lightly, "relax━Just a few more. There we go━"

    "Oh, my God, Happy━!" Peter slammed his fist down on the table.

    "━Relax━!"

    Peter stormed to his feet at that, livid. "Don't tell me to relax, Happy!" he shouted, not sure whether it was anger that made his voice rise, or desperation. "How can I relax when I messed up so bad?!" He flung out a hand towards the jet window, hiccuping back a sob as he felt his eyes begin to sting with tears. "I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend so I gave him the only thing that Mr. Stark left behind for me, and now he's gonna kill my friends and half of Europe, so please, do not tell me to relax!"

    He fell into one of the other seats, gripping his hair tight as he refused to break down. Peter rubbed at his tears━even breathing sent spikes of pain up through his chest. He shook his head, sniffling. "I━I'm sorry," he muttered, backtracking in Happy's silence that followed. "I'm sorry, Happy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't━I shouldn't shout..."