Peter awoke with a jolt. Sweat poured down his face and he rubbed his eyes. He was stupid to think he could go a night without a nightmare. Homecoming was repaying on a loop in his mind. The rubble was crushing him to death, his friends and family were dying because of him, the usual.
Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to his feet, his heart pounding. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears. A quick glance in the mirror revealed he looked as crappy as he felt: pale and clammy skin complimented by bloodshot and sunken eyes. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky. His brain started cycling like it does when he gets like this, and soon he felt as if his brain volume was full blast. Not good enough, not smart enough, not fast enough, not strong enough, not mature enough, not enough. Over and over again until his breath caught and he couldn't breathe and his whole was rigid and his hands were like claws and he felt like he was imploding. He dared to meet his own eyes in the mirror. Pathetic. If Mr Stark saw him like this, it would all be over. Weak. Peter closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He just wanted to relax for one moment in his life. He was always on edge.
He rubbed his eyes and looked at his Star Wars x wing alarm clock. 2:36in the morning. He then found his eyes being drawn to a water bottle on the top shelf of his desk. He sighed. Two nights ago after a particularly horrible dream where he couldn't go back to sleep, he'd wandered into the kitchen and somehow ended up pouring some of Mays vodka into an empty bottle. He had no reason to do this. He didn't drink. When May would let him sip her wine occasionally he would always gag and make a face. Peter didn't want to drink, but maybe he needed to drink.
He reached for the bottle with shaking hands and unscrewed the cap. One sniff almost made his dinner reappear. The vodka smelled exactly like a nail polish remover and bleach smoothie from the fiery pits of hell. Peter paused briefly and weighed his options. Hellish drink or yet another nightmare? "Not exactly a tough choice", Peter thought, yet he still hesitated. "Come on Spider-Man," he muttered to himsef. "It's vodka, not vulture." Peter knew he had a chemistry test tomorrow AND an English essay, and if he got no sleep the rest of the night, he'd be screwed for both, and with the way his grades had been slipping since homecoming, he could not afford two more F's this semester. He sighed as he brought the bottle to his lips and took several swigs. If the smell was bad, there were no words for the taste. Peter forced the burning liquid down his throat, lips pressed tightly together to ensure he didn't spew it on his calculus homework. Once it was down, Peter quickly grabbed a half empty bottle of lime Gatorade from his back pack. He'd bought it for a post it patrol treat at the deli and hadn't finished it before he crashed into bed. In seconds, the yellow-green liquid was long gone, yet the taste of the vodka lingered in Peters mouth.
He sat on the edge of his bed, wringing his sweaty hands. Peter didn't feel like himself at at all. He didn't do this things like this. He was spideman, not the type of kid who stole alcohol from the fridge and downed it in the middle of the night. The memories were pressing into his mind, threatening to reappear and cause the second panic attack of the night. Peter forced himself to think of something, anything to keep his mind off of the past. He started to run through the presidents, and when he got stuck after Ford he started doing the states, then countries of the world, then digits of pi.
Peter knew the vodka must have taken effect when he got stuck after he was stumped on the 125th number, he could usually get to at least 400 places before he had trouble. Peter didn't feel drunk, he just felt like his head has gained 10 pounds. "Woah", peter whispered as he swayed his head from side to side. He felt extremely similar to a bowling bowl. As he collapsed back into his cool sheets and let his eyes slide close, he gave one last angry glance to the vodka water bottle on his desk, then promptly rolled over to his other side and fell into his first peaceful sleep since before homecomg.
