Harvey @harvey101 - Tumblr Blog

How to pass calculus

Guide by a clueless girl navigating university

Peter Parker x fem! reader

What happens when caffeine and lack of sleep catches on to you and the desperation to pass the class will make you do anything

Takes place right after no way home

Warnings: mention of blood.

You can read this part without the before parts.

Part 4 Series Masterlist

It had been four months since university started and about three months since you'd become friends with Peter.

He still disappeared randomly, was always half-asleep in class, and somehow still managed to make terribly loud noises in the middle of the night. The only difference now was that they came with a very loud "Sorry!" afterward.

He was still the most awkward and coolest person you knew.

Everything was going well, you had made friends, you were finally understanding classes and Peter had put you on a ‘systematic spending’ so you didn’t over spend on things that didn’t matter. Everything was good really, except… this overwhelming crush you had seemed to develop on your neighbour.

You couldn’t put a finger on when exactly it started, but somewhere between the study sessions, coffee runs, and sitting together in comfortable silence, his presence had etched itself into your mind.

You smiled to yourself at the thought.

He was an absolute cutie.

“So now you've started daydreaming about him too?” Jenny's voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Oh my God, no!” you yelped as she dropped down beside you on the stairs.

“Girl, I swear to God, does he even exist?”

You gave her the look.

“I mean, you keep saying he's a genius, he's cute, he helps you study, and he's your neighbor?” she said, counting each point off on her fingers.

You nodded.

“If he's perfect, that doesn't mean he doesn't exist.”

“Besides,” you shrugged, “maybe they still manufacture good men.”

“Right.”

She pulled out her phone and shoved it in your face.

“There’s a freshman party three blocks from your place.”

“Jenny—”

“You have to be there at nine sharp tonight.”

Before you could protest, she slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t give me the 'I don't know if I can' bullshit. I want my bestie there with me.”

You sigh. There was no getting out of this one, but going out once in a while wasn’t so bad either.

“Alright, you win. I’ll be there.”

Instantly her sour expression blooms into a genuine smile. “Wear the best dress you have and do your makeup real nice!” you laugh along with her. “Okay, send me the address. I’ll be there.” you smile parting ways with her to go home.

The walk back home is uneventful.Music flooded your mind through your earphones. It was getting colder, the snow making a thin carpet on the sidewalks. The closer you get to your apartment, the quieter the neighborhood becomes. You take fast steps trying to get home sooner and rest for a while before you have to go out again.

The elevator dinged, letting you off at your floor. As you walk to your door, you pass by Peter's apartment. Maybe you can get him to go with you? Just, maybe? You ring the bell and wait for a while.

No response. You try again.

He’s probably not home. You sighed. What were you even thinking? He was definitely not the kind of person who would willingly go to a party.

You unlocked your door and slipped out of your sneakers, tossed your bag onto the couch, and headed straight for your bedroom to decide on tonight's look. You pulled out a black dress that fell just above your knees.

Maybe you shouldn't wear this in weather like this. But the other options didn't look nearly as good. Pairing it with stockings should be fine.

Yeah. You could make that work.

You laid the outfit on your bed, picked out a pair of earrings, and set everything neatly on your dressing table.

5;47 PM

You plopped onto your bed.

The exhaustion from the day was already beginning to settle into your bones. With a yawn, you grabbed your phone and set an alarm for 7 PM, fully convinced it would drag you back into the land of the living.

You should have known, the alarm never stood a chance against your sleep.

The next time you opened your eyes, the room was dark. For one second you're figuring out where you are and then the ringtone of your phone blasts in your ears.

9:27 PM.

Twenty-three missed calls.

Fifteen messages from Jenny.

You shot upright so fast you nearly fell off the bed.

"Oh my God!” You scrambled to send her a text that you are getting ready as you rush into the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

The next 15 minutes pass in a blur, from putting on the stocking without tearing them to almost stabbing your face with the earrings. You quickly put on a simple everyday makeup before Jenny’s spirit starts haunting you.

You were hopping around the apartment trying to force your foot into a heel when—

Bang.

You stop trying to force your heel into place. That was easily the loudest crash to come from your neighbor's apartment since you moved in.

“Peter?” you say instinctively.

A little concern settles in your chest when no apology follows. Usually there was always a sheepish "Sorry!" after the noise. Maybe you should check on him.

Your phone rings, flashing Jenny’s contact.

“GURL, IF YOU'RE GHOSTING ME, I'M EATING ALL YOUR SANDWICHES FROM NOW ON!”

You wince and pull the phone away from your ear. “Jenny, I'm sorry! I'm leaving right now! I'll be there in ten!” She yells something back, but the music blaring behind her completely drowns it out.

You shove your phone into your purse and try, once again, to force your foot into the heel. A knock at the door startles you. Frowning, you abandon the shoe and hurry over.

Through the peephole, you catch a glimpse of messy brown curls.

Peter.

Your hand is already on the handle before your brain catches up. The door swings open. He's standing there, his hair is a mess, a bruise darkens the side of his face.

Before you can ask what happened, he's moving.

The next second, he crashed into you, arms wrapping around your waist with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.

“Peter?” you asked, instinctively wrapping your arms around him.

This was strange. He had never hugged you before. In fact, he usually avoided any kind of physical contact whenever possible. You let him lean into you, quietly savoring the rare moment when his guard seemed to be completely down.

The silence made your smile falter.

Usually he'd be apologizing by now. Tripping over his own words. Explaining why he was at your door. Saying literally anything. Instead, he just held on. His grip trembled. A small crease formed between your brows.

"Peter? Are you okay?"

Still nothing. Then it hit you, a sharp metallic scent. At first you couldn't place it. It was mixed with the cold air from the hallway and the faint smell of laundry detergent from his hoodie.

But it was there.

Strong and so so wrong.

Slowly, you shifted one hand higher up his back, your palm meeting with the dampness of his hoodie. For a second your brain refused to process it. Maybe he'd gotten caught in the snow.

Maybe—

But it was warm, so very warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, you pulled your hand away. The dim lights of your apartment caught the dark red smeared across your palm.

Blood.

The world seemed to stop.

A lot of blood.

"Peter." The name left your lips as little more than a frightened whisper.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Just need a minute.” He mumbled into the crook of your neck. You take a few steps back, trying to guide him to the couch,his knees buckled.

A strangled gasp escaped your throat as his full weight suddenly dropped against you.

"Peter!"

You barely managed to keep the two of you upright. His arm slipped from around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey, stay with me."

"I'm fine," he mumbled, flashing a tired smile.

“You are literally bleeding on my floor.” The panic and adrenaline flooding your system made your stomach twist. For a horrifying second, you thought you might actually throw up.

No.

Need to Focus.

You took a shaky breath and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Come on.”

Somehow, you managed to guide him to the couch.

Every step made your heart lurch.

Once he was seated, his head immediately fell back against the cushions.

“Don't move.”

You didn't even bother with his response.

Rushing into the bathroom, you practically tore the first aid kit from beneath the sink. By the time you returned, your hands were shaking. You dropped the kit onto the coffee table and began pulling out disinfectant, gauze, and bandages.

“Pete, I need you to take off the hoodie, okay?”

For a second he simply stared at you through half-lidded eyes,then he gave a small nod.

He weakly complies with you helping him take it off. Your entire body freezes as the hoodie comes off. A sharp long line cuts through his upper back, blood pouring. You try to keep it calm, try to hide the terror in your eyes but it's too much, too much that you cannot help him with this.

Trying to keep your hands from shaking, you wiped the blood and pressed on the wound- hard enough to stop the bleeding but not as much that would hurt him more. He didn't flinch, he didn't complain, nor did he make a sound. For the first time since you've known him, he was just quiet.

“Okay Peter” You take a deep breath “I’m just gonna call the ambulance, okay?”

"No!" the word comes out sharper than he intended. “Cannot… let anyone know.” His voice comes out in a whisper.

“I just need to be patched up and have a night's rest.” he looks into your eyes with that pleading look.

“This- This is just too much, something terrible will happen if we-” you're cut off by his hands pulling you back.

“Please, just let me be this once.”

You sigh, sinking back into the couch beside him. You try your best to gently dab the disinfectant on the wound. Every few seconds he lets out a small hiss at the burn. You take the gauze and wrap it around the wound. It was still bleeding but it had considerably slowed down. You lightly graze your fingertips on the bandaged area.

This isn’t right.

He shouldn't be doing this.

“Peter look” You lift his chin forcing him to finally look at you. “I’m not trying to be in your business but whatever it is that you're doing; it’s not worth it.” He just stares at you for a while before looking back down again.

“You don’t understand.” he whispers.

“If this is about the money then I know you could get a better job anywhere with how smart you are.”

He laughs bitterly “Is that what you think this is about?” The anger in his voice almost scares you. Somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear your phone ringing but you chose not to mind it.

“Peter, I know I don't know much about you. Or what you do. But nothing is worth this.” You gesture to the bandages sitting on his body.

“It’s not like there is anyone waiting for me to come back safely.”

“I am!” you cover your mouth as soon as the words leave your lips.

“No no no no no..” His voice breaks into a whisper. He grabs your shoulder tightly, the grip of his fingers almost leaving a bruise. “Look at me okay, I am not somebody you should care about or even think about for that matter.”

“What do you mean Peter! First you come into my house with blood pouring from your body and then you say I shouldn't care about you?” You scoff “You can’t tell me who I should care about and who I should not. And I care about you” your voice softens. “I really do Peter, I really really care about you.”

Your hands reach up to his face and this time, he doesn't pull back.

You press your lips on his forehead, the contact finally breaking him. He just stares at you for a while trying to stop the emotions trying to take over him. His breathing quickens and a few stray tears roll down his cheeks.

“It’s okay Peter, I’m here.” and that finally breaks him. A strangled sob escapes him as he buries his face against your shoulder, clutching the fabric of your dress as though you're gonna disappear the second he lets go.

“I’m sorry…” he whimpered between sobs. “So, so sorry.”

His fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress.

“Everything’s…” He sucked in a shaky breath. “It’s all because of me.”

“Peter—”

“No.” He shook his head violently. “You don't understand.”

His voice cracked.

“Every time I try to fix something, it just gets worse. People get hurt. Things fall apart.” Another strangled sob escaped him. “And I keep telling myself it'll be different next time, but it never is.”

You felt your heart twist painfully in your chest.

“They are all gone because of me, all because I wasn’t better.”

Your fingers run through his hair trying to calm him. “It’s okay, everything is fine now, you don’t have to fight alone anymore.” He doesn't say anything, just holds you tighter as he sobs.

Somewhere between sobs and reassurance, you both fall asleep on the couch.