It was 2 am and Peter’s head was stuffy. He laid in a bed that was too hot and too cold at the same time. It feels like his shirt is choking him and when he rips it off the choking feeling is still there. His head hurts from his constant headaches that seem to never fully go away. His limbs felt heavy and achy like the growing pains he got when he was younger. His eyes hurt from staring at his computer screen all day due to stupid English homework. It felt like there was something constricting his chest so he couldn’t get even one proper breath in. It was like this even before the spider bite but now it’s even worse and he can feel things even more and it’s bone-deep and painful.
He needed something but he couldn’t decide on what. He wanted something so bad but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty or anything like that. He brought his hand to his face to rub at his eyes to find that his face was greasy. He hated when his face was greasy he hated feeling dirty and touching his face just made him hyper-aware of the dirt under his fingernails and the grime on his body that builds up from a regular day. Maybe a shower will help.
The shower helped somewhat.
He couldn’t decide if he wanted the water to be scalding hot or freezing cold. He kept on switching through the shower. He ran his hand over his face glad that the grease was gone. He didn’t feel sticky and dirty anymore and that somehow helped with his aching limbs. The headache still pounds in his skull though. He still can’t breathe and he thinks if anything touches his neck right now he might just cry.
He puts on loose shorts and a big hoodie so he doesn’t feel like he is suffocating in his own clothes. Socks would be too much right now and he is happily content with feeling the hardwood underneath him. He collapses back into bed and by now it is 3 am. He closes his eyes to try to soothe his headache, wishing he could just fall asleep. He’s wide awake and yet so tired.
He still wants something.
He wants to go outside but he also doesn’t want to move a muscle.
Times like this he wishes he could drive even if he had no place to drive to.
On second thought driving around feeling like this probably isn’t the best option out there.
He grabs his phone from its place on his nightstand, charging, and looks at discord.
He sees that some people are still awake and maybe talking to someone will help make him fall asleep. But when he notices that Mj is awake he hesitates to call. His finger hovers over the button as he debates whether or not he should really bother his friend this late at night. He decides against it and exits out of discord.
Peter lays in bed with the collar of his hoodie as far away as possible from his neck and his blanket half on top of him, not covering his legs. He taps on Instagram and scrolls through knowing that staring at his phone screen will just make his headache worse. He thinks he should just go to where the medicine is kept and get some painkillers, but the thought of getting out of bed makes his joints ache. He scrolls far enough down his timeline that he sees a picture of Ned and wonders if the boy is up.
Peter goes back to discord and sees that Ned is also still up but he doesn’t type anything into the chat. He just stares at the letters and tries to come up with something to start talking to Ned with but nothing comes to mind. He decides against it and exits out only to find himself in the group chat between him, Ned, and MJ. Again he thinks about what he should type to get a conversation going but nothing comes to mind. He soon exits out of that too and the app altogether.
He puts his phone down beside him and stares at the ceiling. He wants to go outside and walk around but that’s crazy and dangerous at this hour. There’s also the fact that it feels like his knees are those of an 80-year-old.
He shifts and his hoodie shifts with him, touching his neck. It was like a rope clamped around his throat and panic that came from nowhere invaded his chest. Peter quickly sat up and ripped the hoodie off leaving him in only his shorts and cold. He tried to wrap the blanket around himself but it was too constricting and in a moment of frustration it soon ends up on the floor too.
He doesn’t know what to do. He's so cold but anything touching his skin right now and constricting his breathing even more than it already makes him want to throw a fit. He doesn’t know what’s happening but he knows this has happened before but he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He has knots in his stomach and he feels like crying because everything is too much or too little. He grabs at his hair and pulls until the uncomfortable burning sensation of his irritated scalp joins everything else that feels wrong.
Peter felt like crying and rocking back and forth like he did when he was little and things like this happened. He squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can but it only adds to the pain that builds up more and more in his head.
When he opens his eyes and stutters out his breath which still hasn’t returned to normal he leans down over the bed to pick up the hoodie and throw it back on again. It’s warm now but he holds the collar of the hoodie and is probably stretching it out.
It feels like his clothes are choking him. Like something is wrapped around his chest. Like his head is currently trying to kill him. He needs everything to just stop feeling like too much right now.
Peter looks at his clock and sees an entire hour has passed already. He lays back down with his blanket half covering him, rolls on his side, grips the collar of his hoodie tight, and tries to fall asleep. He doesn’t know when but he eventually does.
He wakes too soon to his alarm feeling just as bad as yesterday and he knows today is going to suck.
He rolls out of bed to get the pain medicine because he knows he’s going to need it.