nineteen.
When Peter woke again at around one, the cabin was silent. He pulled his sweatpants back on and was in the middle of pulling his shirt on as he walked out of the bedroom. Wade was nowhere to be seen.
At Peter's computer was the notebook he'd been taking notes in. Now there were a bunch of scribbles in red ink where there'd once been a blank page. On said page were a bunch of dots that Peter himself never connected. Information he never knew. There were things on this paper that weren't in any of the files on Peter's computer.
How did Wade know these things? Wade doesn't seem like the kind of guy to know anything really, so this was surprising, to say the least. Peter made a mental note that Wade's handwriting kinda looked like a mix between his Aunt May's and a doctor's. Neat, but nearly fucking unreadable.
Peter makes it easier for himself by picking out the words he can read and then using the words other readable words around it to find enough context clues to form a fucking thought. He rubs his temple in annoyance and sighs. Where was Wade?
Everything looked the same as it did this morning, with the exception of their mugs from this morning. Those had been washed and neatly sat on the counter together.
Peter felt dizzy, and it only worsened as he stood to look for Wade. There were only so many places he could be. He wasn't in the bedroom, Peter hadn't missed him. He wasn't in the bathroom, and he wasn't around the perimeter of the cabin.
Peter looked out into the trees and wiped his sweating hands on his shirt. "Wade?" He paused. "Wade!"
The only answer that he got was from the birds. His breathing picked up as he went back inside. He remembered that Wade put his number into Peter's phone, but when he called it, Wade's shitty flip phone rang in the other room instead.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and it hurt. He felt like he couldn't breathe. There was sweat on his skin, but he felt cold.
Peter knew what was happening, he knew he needed to get back inside, but all he really wanted was to find Wade. He went to walk towards the treeline, but tripped and landed in the dirt. He let out a sob.
His Spidey senses were going haywire. He knew that it was a bad idea to be out here in the forest in the middle of a panic attack, but he didn't want to be inside either. He didn't want to feel the walls closing in on him. He didn't want to feel so big in a place so small.
He got up and ran as best as he could for maybe 30 feet before leaning on a tree. "Wade!" His voice came out as little more than air.
He pressed on through the trees, and the forest only seemed to get darker the farther in that he went. He pushed on through until he collided with a wall of trees. He turned around and there was a second wall. He was closed in by trees on all sides but one.
He ran down the corridor of trees and watched as the walls around him turned into what looked like the walls in his Aunt May's apartment building. Her apartment door stood wide open and when he ran inside she was there, her body lying in a heaping puddle of blood and shattered glass where the coffee table once stood.
He ran back to the door, but on the other side was no longer the apartment building, but the long hallway outside of his room at the Avenger's base. He ran towards what Tony called the Party Room.
He pushed the double doors open and wished that he hadn't. He could smell the blood and he wanted to throw up. Windows were broken and so was the furniture.
Right at his feet was Wanda... Or, what was left of her. Her head was turned the completely wrong way and her left leg was laying several feet away. Over the back of the couch was Sam, two large slices through his chest. His blood trickled down the once white upholstery and onto the face of Clint, whose eyes looked as if they'd been clawed out of his skull. Several bullet holes filled his stomach.
He rounded the couch to see Mr. Strange's body on the ground, holes through his hands, crucifixion style... His cape was still shifting beneath him as if trying to wake him. Peter felt tears spring to his eyes. Right next to him was what was left of Vision. The yellow stone was missing from his forehead.
Scott was covered in blood, and draped across his legs was Mr. Banner, a single bullet wound to the temple... Except, if there was one thing that Peter knew about angles, it's that this one wound in the whole room was self-inflicted.
He rounded the couches to see Natasha laying across one. She had a gun lying next to her head, and her finger was still on the trigger. Her head hung off of the couch, as did one of her arms. Blood dripped down her face, and her hand was outstretched toward's Bucky's beaten body.
Bucky's metal arm was missing, severed just beneath the shoulder. His head was turned to the side, but something about it looked wrong, unnatural. Something inside of Peter's mind told him that it was broken, but he chose to look away instead of admit that maybe it was.
Peter turned around and saw Tony laying on the ground. His eyes were wide and unblinking. There was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be and next to him was Steve. Steve's hand loosely gripped Tony's. Peter knelt down in the space between them. Steve's bleeding neck made Peter shake harder than he'd been in the first place.
Steve's body jerked and Peter felt a hand around his arm. He looked into Steve's now grey eyes and listened as Steve spoke words garbled by the blood. "You... Could've... Saved... Us..."
Then, Steve went still again, his hand falling away from Peter's arm.
Peter quickly stood and backed up as quickly as his shaking legs could carry him. He tripped backward over something and when he looked down, he saw his own body there, in a pool of blood. His stomach had been ripped open and his wrists had been slit. Part of him wondered which happened first.
He got up and ran again, back through the double doors. This time he was in the dark, everything around him was pitch black. He could feel his spidey senses tingling, but he couldn't see anything coming.
A light flicked on, illuminating something far away, and Peter ran to it. In the circle of light was a little girl, maybe no more than five. She and her purple dress were both covered in blood. Peter stopped short of actually approaching the girl.
Peter heard footsteps, and he saw Wade standing behind the girl, and the footsteps grew louder and louder, and he felt hands on his body, and he could hear someone calling his name.
"Peter!" His eyes flew open and above him he saw Wade, eyes wide. He was finally getting his breath back, for the most part. "I heard you screaming... Peter, it's just a dream."
Peter nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure that Wade was telling him the truth.