20 Chapter 20: Nightmares and Guilt I
The night was a cold one, Peter stood back in his old vigilante costume on a rooftop on one of the quieter parts of the city that Peter tended to patrol due to pros ignoring it since it only had small-time crimes.
This … didn't feel right.
As his eyes focused, a lone figure could be seen standing near the edge of the rooftop across from him.
It was a girl, probably about 17 to 18 years old but a few inches shorter than his 5'7. She wore grey sweatpants and a light blue hoodie that was pulled over her messy-looking green hair.
Her eyes were a vibrant green with heavy eye bags under them, Peter could easily spot the fresh tear tracks on her cheeks.
She looked tired, scared, and absolutely miserable.
She looked like she needed help.
"Hey," Peter said as gently as he could, watching as the girl tensed up at the sound.
A thing that Peter noticed was that his voice sounded a bit younger than he remembered.
His eyes trailed down to her feet, noticing how we're shoes were off and placed off to the side.
Oh no.
"Whatever you're gonna do, don't."
Peter wasn't an expert on Japanese culture or anything, but he knew what was going on.
He just hoped he could do something about it.
The girl took a few steps back, edging ever closer towards the edge of the building, Peter going forwards to keep the same distance.
"Y-You're too young t-to be a hero…" Sniffling, she wiped her reddened eyes with her sleeve.
"I'm just trying to help out when I can, what's your name?"
Even though Peter was more used to joking around when on patrol, even he knew there were times to do things seriously.
In front of him was someone with a problem he couldn't punch away; this was when he needed to keep them relaxed and just talk to them.
He needed to make her feel safe.
Quietly, the girl responded. "M-Mizuku…"
Alright, he just needed to keep her talking.
Reaching up to his face, Peter pulled off both his face mask and goggles and tried to give the girl as soft of a smile as he could.
"I'm Peter, can you tell me what's going on?"
Peter watched as the girl took a single step back, the passing cars below filling the quiet night air.
"You d-don't have to be h-here, j-just leave…" Her eyes watered again and let go a few tears before stopping, Peter took a single step forward while keeping his hands low.
"I just wanna help, alright? Can you just talk to me?" Peter asked, accidentally letting his voice waver for a split second.
A big part of him was panicking, he knew he wasn't doing good at keeping her calm or making her feel safe.
He wished there was someone on this rooftop who knew what they were doing instead of him.
Silently, Mizuku shook her head and let out a quiet sob before looking at him with eyes filled with exhaustion, desperation, and pain.
"Please… You don't have to do what you're going to do, I'm here for you." He tried to reassure in as soft of a voice as he could while taking two steps forward.
Even then, they were still about 30 feet apart and the girl was one step from jumping.
Whether or not he could reach her if she jumped was not something he wanted to find out tonight.
She gave a humorless laugh, running a hand through her hair and taking off her hood.
"Doesn't matter, anyway…"
Eyes widening, Peter watched in horror as she took the final step off the building with a peaceful look on her face.
"Wait!" Peter screamed, shooting a web and sprinting to catch her before it was too late.
As if time slowed down, Mizuku gave him a look that he could only describe as thankful as he screamed after her, hand outstretched.
He needed to be faster.
Why couldn't he just be faster?
Why couldn't he help her?
Why was he not good enough to save someone?
The sound of her hitting the ground and the screams of the few people walking the streets at this hour reached his ears just as he reached the edge of the building.
Before he could look, Peter's eyes welled up with tears as he slid down the ledge, letting out a pained scream as the tears started to fall.
He clutched the red face mask and goggles in his hand as his breath hitched, it felt like he couldn't breathe.
His lungs burned, the boy screaming into the night sky and letting out sobs.
Quietly, Peter muttered out apologies to himself.
Why couldn't he be good enough?
"I'm so sorry I was the one here for this…"
...
Screaming, Peter sat up in his bed drenched in sweat with tears pouring down his face.
His breaths came panicked and frantic, the boy trying to grasp at his bed and anything else solid that would tell him he was actually awake.
After a minute of trying to calm down his breathing, Peter closed his eyes and hung his head low.
He hadn't had that dream in a while, had he?
It was about two months into his vigilantism, he had stumbled on a girl at the edge of a roof and tried to help her.
God, he didn't even get her full name.
She was so vulnerable, she jumped in front of him and he didn't even know her whole name .
Why wasn't he fast enough?
His teary eyes darted around the room to take in his surroundings, eventually falling on his old facemask and goggles laying on the ground, close enough to look like how they did when he had them on.
It felt like those white lenses mocked him, they mocked him for what happened that night.
Peter let out a silent sob as he clutched his chest at the memory, it had been hunting him for the past year or so.
Wiping his eyes with his blanket, Peter looked at his alarm clock and saw that it was 3:18 AM.
Yeah, he wasn't going back to sleep.
Peter wished May was here to comfort him but stepping out of his room and listening to the silent apartment told him that his aunt was still in Tokyo.
Grabbing his phone from the foot of his bed, Peter pulled up May's number and hovered his thumb over the call button before turning the device off and throwing it on the bed.
He couldn't bother her with this.
She probably had better stuff to do anyway.
Walking over to the bathroom, Peter splashed cold water in his face and took off his sweat-drenched shirt before taking a look in the mirror.
His eyes were puffy and red just like how Mizuku's were, the bags under them somehow darker and heavier than yesterday. Looking over at his chest he could easily see old scars from guns, cuts, and even burns littering his body.
Tracing his hand over them, he winced at touching a few of the still sensitive ones with the older ones feeling just like regular skin.
Every now and then, the older ones that had smoothed out and become faded like the burn on his abdomen or the bullet wound in his upper left thigh would send a sharp pain throughout his body.
They were something he had to live with, it didn't mean he liked them.
Eyes watering, Peter focused on them.
All those fights and all those scars and he couldn't even save a girl in front of him?
May always told him that there was something to do at times like this.
Pray.
And so he did.
Hanging his head low over the sink, Peter closed his eyes and spoke.
"Hey, God; It's Peter Parker. I know we haven't talked in a while and all but I really need to talk right now…"
Silence, Peter guessed that's to be expected.
"I just… I tried to save her, you know? I did all I thought I could and I-I just…"
He gripped the sink tightly, clenching his eyes shut.
"Y-You know that little game we play sometimes? Where I do something dumb or mess up, and other people suffer cause of it? Cause I failed to do something or did something wrong? How you did with Ben?"
His throat felt dry, a few scars in his chest and back began to sting as he sniffed.
"Why did you have to do it with her? W-Why couldn't you have placed someone better that night instead of me?"
Peter paused.
"Why didn't you give her someone better like All Might when she needed it? Why did you end up giving her a guy who just jumps around and tells jokes? Why did you give her Spider-Man?"
The humming of the bathroom light was his only response.
Like a dam breaking, Peter descended into choking sobs as the images of that last look she gave him started to play over and over again in his mind.
Crumbling onto the floor, Peter took short and rapid breaths as the feeling of being suffocated spread across his body while the tears fell onto the tiled floor.
Peter had to be having a panic attack, right? He was obviously hyperventilating.
Minutes passed as Peter struggled to breathe on the tiled floor of the bathroom before air was finally allowed back into his lungs.
Why did he have to be the one there for her?
Why was it he failed even though he tried his best?
He just wanted to tell her he was sorry for not getting to her in time.
He just wanted to tell her he was sorry for not being enough to help her when she needed it.
He just wanted to go to bed.
...
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