her hands shake, and his fingers curl lightly over them when they pass along to his wrists, a familial contact.
a shallow breath taken. in, out and repeat.
he had no idea how her magic worked. chaos magic, she says. it takes over she says, and his brows pinch. like dr octavius, with those tendrils of tech? it’s parallels and comparisons, but in no moment of his sprint through filling in blanks does he settle on resentment.
there’s sympathy. there’s an ache, somewhere under his ribs. her eyes aren’t those of a person who doesn’t have any good left in them and it isn’t in the nature of peter parker to see the worst in people. ]
I didn’t realize. [ didn’t realize his hurt was so loud. didn’t realize how much it had lingered, taken root. he thought he was doing okay, better and better at shaking it off when all it really was, was that he was learning to live with it and those were not the same thing.
and her powers could sense that?? he had no idea. what it worked with, what it reacted to or how the unending torrent of his thoughts, or the turmoil within, could influence it.
what this place making it worse? ]
It’s — it’s okay. [ he sounds rattled, but he means it. ] I didn’t tell you about her. It was just — really recent. I didn’t realize your powers reacted to these things. [ he watches her, hands still curled around hers, in part worried. in part, tries not to focus on more parallels, despite how one’s mind works after tragedy (he was holding onto his aunt when she fell). ]
I guess — I guess telling me to stop thinking makes a lot of sense, now.
I’m — sorry, too. [ for all she’s lost. he doesn’t know the extents but he felt them. he wants to ask about her kids. doesn’t think it’s the right time. clears his throat and finally let’s go, lifts his head to look around the bare apartment, instead. ] Is it better now? Is there — anything I can do to help?
[ he isn’t sure what else to offer.
should he be hurt? scared? angry? maybe that’s the expectation, in a way. maybe he needs a moment. he’ll take one later. ]
no subject
her hands shake, and his fingers curl lightly over them when they pass along to his wrists, a familial contact.
a shallow breath taken. in, out and repeat.
he had no idea how her magic worked. chaos magic, she says. it takes over she says, and his brows pinch. like dr octavius, with those tendrils of tech? it’s parallels and comparisons, but in no moment of his sprint through filling in blanks does he settle on resentment.
there’s sympathy. there’s an ache, somewhere under his ribs. her eyes aren’t those of a person who doesn’t have any good left in them and it isn’t in the nature of peter parker to see the worst in people. ]
I didn’t realize. [ didn’t realize his hurt was so loud. didn’t realize how much it had lingered, taken root. he thought he was doing okay, better and better at shaking it off when all it really was, was that he was learning to live with it and those were not the same thing.
and her powers could sense that?? he had no idea. what it worked with, what it reacted to or how the unending torrent of his thoughts, or the turmoil within, could influence it.
what this place making it worse? ]
It’s — it’s okay. [ he sounds rattled, but he means it. ] I didn’t tell you about her. It was just — really recent. I didn’t realize your powers reacted to these things. [ he watches her, hands still curled around hers, in part worried. in part, tries not to focus on more parallels, despite how one’s mind works after tragedy (he was holding onto his aunt when she fell). ]
I guess — I guess telling me to stop thinking makes a lot of sense, now.
I’m — sorry, too. [ for all she’s lost. he doesn’t know the extents but he felt them. he wants to ask about her kids. doesn’t think it’s the right time. clears his throat and finally let’s go, lifts his head to look around the bare apartment, instead. ] Is it better now? Is there — anything I can do to help?
[ he isn’t sure what else to offer.
should he be hurt? scared? angry? maybe that’s the expectation, in a way. maybe he needs a moment. he’ll take one later. ]