he knife slides through his skin with an ease that catches him by surprised. He has no idea why he'd thought it would take more effort to stab him. For just a moment, he can't even feel anything. If he hadn't watched the knife go into his shoulder, he wouldn't have even realized. Then the pain explodes in his entire body, nearly knocking him to his knees.
The would-be rapist, the man that Peter had just pulled off the teenage girl who's still sobbing on the ground, stares at the knife still sticking out of Peter's skin and then goes running. Peter breathes in then out, knowing he can't reach up to pull the knife out as much as he wants to. It hurts. It hurts so badly that he can barely think, can't figure out what to do.
Okay. Okay. He can do this. He's not some little kid anymore. Peter blinks once, twice, forces himself to take a few more deep breaths and then turns towards the girl. She's even younger than he'd thought, barely a teenager it looks like and his stomach turns over. Stop that, he tells himself because he can't handle that right now.
He's going to pass out.
"Are you okay?" Peter asks, trying to keep his voice calm, soothing as he turns towards her.
She just cries louder, covering her eyes with her hands and he looks around. He can't stay here. He can't get her help, not really. He could call somebody, get her an ambulance, but he can't just go out and ask some passerby if they can help her. Not with his costume on.
Not with the knife still deeply embedded in his shoulder.
"Do you have a cell-"
He's cut off by a scream and he looks up, seeing a man and a woman in pajamas running towards them. For a moment, he takes up a defensive position, preparing to defend this girl from them if he has to. It's not unreasonable for him to be a little suspicious, he thinks, although he has no idea how much good he'd do right now. Not with the pain making little white lights spot in his eyes.
"Melissa!" the man yells and the girl, Melissa, immediately tries to stand up, tries to get to them, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs. "Get away from her."
As soon as Melissa is upright, she's running towards the people and Peter watches them for a moment too long, pain filling his heart for a different reason this time. Then he lifts up his uninjured arm, shooting out web and pulling himself up. The girl will be okay. He doesn't know why she's out so late but it's not his business. He saved her. He doesn't get to know the aftermath as much as he might want to.
He lets out a breath once he's on top of the building and sits down on the ledge hard, moving quickly to shove his head between his knees. He can't pass out here. He can't. He's Spider-Man. It's dangerous. Half the city thinks he's a villain and he's sure that most of the city would unmask him if given the opportunity, on his side or not. His apartment is several blocks away and he can't exactly swing through the air like this. Maybe one-armed but even that's going to cause extensive pain.
Looking around, Peter closes his eyes for a long moment before opening them. A sharp pang of sadness is bitter in his mouth as he thinks that just a few months ago, he would've had options. He'd have pulled out his burner phone and called his aunt who would've dropped everything and come for him, called Happy who would've done the same. Hell, if he'd known Doctor Strange's phone number, James Rhodes', Scott Lang's, any of them. He could've called any of them and if he'd explained the situation, he's sure they would've come for him.
Maybe if he knew their numbers now, if he explained he was Spider-Man, he'd been stabbed, maybe they'd come help. But no. He's on his own.
He's alone.
Peter chews on the side of his cheek and he can't be alone. He can't go to the hospital. He can't. He can't do this. Tears sting his eyes and he reaches up to press his fingers against them through his mask.
It hurts. It hurts so damn bad.
He has no choice. He can't do this. He's going to pass out and he has to be somewhere safe. He won't reach his apartment. Ned is only a block away. Peter takes a breath, bites down on the side of his cheek hard and stands back up. Just a little while. Once he's there, he'll be safe. Ned is safety.
Peter can't swing, though. He doesn't trust himself so he takes a running start, leaping over the side of the building and landing on the next one. Just a few more, he thinks. Its sheer will that powers him over the next few buildings. He doesn't think, doesn't let himself feel. He just runs and jumps.
As soon as he lands on Ned's building, he has to throw up, grateful for a bin that's been left on the roof. He lifts up his mask only enough to vomit, pulling it back on quickly. He won't take it off until he's safe in Ned's room.
Safe. Ned. That's all he can think.
Peter attaches a web to the side of the building and lowers himself carefully the dozen floors down to Ned's window and knocks. He's trying so hard not to jostle the knife that he still has refused to remove. Once he's safe, he'll remove it and they'll figure out what to do.
No answer and so Peter knocks again.
"Please," he mutters, feeling the tears making his mask wet. Then he remembers. Ned is out of town. Ned had been talking to MJ about it at the coffee shop just a few days earlier. Peter shakes his head and then lets it fall back, wondering if now is just the time to give up.
It's over. It's over. He looks over, sniffing hard and… MJ. Of course. Peter had never been there but he can go to MJ.
She's only three more buildings past this and across the street. He's going to have to swing.
Peter isn't sure if he can make it but he has to try. Honestly, he might pass out but that sounds like a blessing right now. He doesn't care how many stories he might fall. As carefully as he can, Peter pulls himself back up and then starts running. He doesn't care about anything, can't bring himself to care or think.
It feels like hours as he runs, jumps, swings, even though it can't be more than a few minutes. Peter just hopes that he has the right window, lowering himself down with his web and knocking.
As soon as he knocks, there's movement inside the room that he can just barely hear. He's about to start sobbing, about to start rambling over how much it hurts when her curtains open and he's staring at her startled face. Her jaw drops and she blinks several times, looking over his entire body before she focuses on the knife.
"Oh my god," he can barely hear her say before she's shoving her window open. "Oh my god. Sp-Spider-Man?"
Peter nods, sniffing again. If they hadn't been through so much together, he'd be embarrassed to be crying like this in front of her. But even if she doesn't remember him, she's still MJ. MJ with her hair wild and in her face from sleep, dressed in pajamas with 90s cartoon character faces all over them. MJ who he loves so deeply it hurts even worse than the knife.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, his voice shaking. "I didn't know where else to go. Ned's not home and I- I'm sorry."
MJ shakes her head, reaching out before thinking better of it. She looks confused as she beckons him in and as carefully as he can, he crawls through her window. He'd thought of crawling through her window so many times before but it had never been like. It's everything he can do to not faint as he steps inside. "Don't apologize. Are you okay? Why- I mean, I don't understand. Why- Did you just come to some random window?"
Peter looks at her, breathes, breathes again and then reaches up to pull off his mask. Her eyes widen again before they clear, something like acceptance taking over.
"Peter Parker?" she asks and he nods, can't really do much more than that. He sways on his feet, his mask hanging in his fingers as she immediately holds out her arms again. "Okay. It's okay. Come on. Here, sit down."
She gestures towards the bed and he can't even think of how this is his first time in her room, his first time moving towards her bed. This isn't the way things should've been. But he has to sit or else he's going to pass out and he lowers himself gratefully onto the soft mattress.
"What happened?" MJ breathes, pulling her desk chair over to sit down next to the bed. She keeps half reaching out to him, obviously wanting to do something to help but every time, she pulls her hand back.
Peter swallows hard, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes for a moment. "Asshole," he says after a moment, when he's sure he's not going to throw up. "Tried to rape this girl, barely even looked 13. Coward, though. Stabbed me and ran."
MJ hisses through her teeth and he opens his eyes, seeing a mixture of emotion in her eyes. Sadness at the world most likely, respect for him. He doesn't like that, doesn't want her to see him just as some superhero. He's never wanted to be Spider-Man with her, not really.
"Okay, I'm going to call an ambulance," MJ says, reaching out for her cell phone that's sitting on the nightstand.
Peter sits up abruptly, gasping in pain as the knife jostles and she makes a little noise in her throat. "No," he says quietly, shaking his head and sitting back again hard. It's everything he can do to even stay awake, let alone not get sick all over her bed. "I can't. MJ… People can't know. My identity. It has to stay a secret."
"At the risk of your life?" MJ asks, sounding annoyed and he lets the smallest smile twitch onto his lips. She sounds like the MJ he's known before and he misses her so much. He's laid awake at night, a physical ache in his chest because being without her is something physical. He misses her, misses Ned, misses May and Happy. But the idea of what they could've been had plagued him. They were still in the early stages of their relationship, preparing for a future together with bright optimism. To be here with her now… but not really here with her. It's the worst kind of torture.
"Yes," Peter responds, an easy answer. Especially after everything that had gone on. His life means little compared to the rest of the world. "You don't- I mean, it's okay. I can handle it. Will you just… get me a bandage or something?"
The scoff that MJ lets out is loud enough that he startles, opening his eyes and looking at her. "You are ridiculous. A bandage. Hold on, I'm going to grab the first aid kit. If you insist on this, you're going to need more than a bandage."
Peter can only nod, reaching up to press tentatively around the wound on his shoulder. It doesn't seem so bad. He's not bleeding extensively, which is good. He will as soon as they pull out the blade but he's not at risk of blood loss yet. Maybe an infection, he thinks, but he doesn't know enough about it. He'd done some research, looked up simple things… just in case. What to do in case of smoke inhalation if he had to run into a building on fire, what to do if he was shot, if he was stabbed. Being on his own meant he had to be prepared.
Of course, everything has left his mind now.
MJ comes back after only a few moments, carrying a first aid kit, a hand towel, and a small plastic box that he can't see inside. He tries to smile at her but he's sure it's more of a grimace. She's all business as she sits down again, looking up at him. She's paler than normal, her eyes wide, but she's steady. He knows that she's strong. He knows she can handle this. He just didn't want her to have to.
"I'm going to pull the knife out and immediately apply pressure. I imagine this is going to hurt… You probably need stitches. I'll try to make it fast," MJ says, setting the kit down on the nightstand next to her phone, the small box next to it. She opens the first aid kit and then the plastic box and he realizes she's brought a small sewing kit into the room.
The idea of his 18-year-old ex-girlfriend giving him stitches makes his head start pounding but he's not sure that he has a choice. Peter knows that it's either her, him, or going to the hospital. There's no way that he's going to the hospital and he's shaking too much, too woozy to even think of giving the stitches to himself. Still.
"You don't have to do that," Peter offers, not wanting her to be so involved in this. He's regretting bringing her into this already even though he didn't have a choice. He knows she has work in the morning and he's already disrupting her life. Everything he does just disrupts her life.
MJ smiles slightly, looking up at him and grabbing the towel. "Who else is going to do it? You can't," MJ says reasonably and he swallows hard. She hands him a few painkillers and he swallows them quickly, knowing he's going to need them. He also knows they're not going to make enough of a difference. "It's fine. I've had stitches before which makes me basically an expert."
"I didn't know that," Peter says, grabbing his mask where it's fallen onto the bed and pressing it to his lips. He's going to need something to bite onto and it's as good as anything. Probably not as thick as he could use but at least he won't scream.
MJ nods her head, taking a deep breath as she makes sure she has everything she needs. She double checks and then looks up at him. There's sympathy in her eyes that makes him want to just sink into her. He wants to let her hold him, wants to cry into her and accept comfort that he hasn't had in so long.
"This is going to hurt. Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital?" MJ asks. He shakes his head, putting his mask in his mouth. She looks at him for a moment before standing and going to her dresser. She pulls a belt out of the top drawer and hands it to him. Although she looks unsure, she's not shaking which he's thankful for. "Here. You don't want to grind your teeth too much. Or bite off your tongue."
Peter takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He's not ready for this, he thinks. He's not. He closes his eyes tight, trying to keep his body relaxed.
"You… should also… take off your top. Or loosen it so I can move it as soon as I take the knife out. I'm going to need to see your skin," MJ says haltingly and he opens his eyes, seeing the soft flush of her cheeks. He can feel a blush sliding up his own. She's seen him shirtless before. She might not remember but he does. Still, this feels like the first time as he reaches back, undoes his costume.
"Just… tell me when to lean forward and it'll slip down my arms," Peter whispers, not able to talk any louder. After a second, he puts the belt between his teeth, knowing it's now or never. She looks at him before returning her attention to the task at hand, pouring clear alcohol over the needle.
"Okay. I got stitches when I was a little girl. Me and a friend were having a hula hoop competition," she says and he listens. He could listen to her forever. He's concentrating, not paying attention and he bites down so hard his jaw aches as she pulls the knife cleanly from his skin and immediately presses the towel to the wound. As carefully as she can, she pulls his costume down, pulling the towel away just enough to expose his shoulder. Stars are again twirling in his eyes and he can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Her name was Katrina. I liked her alright but we were competitive."
All that Peter can do is try to listen to her speak, the pain threatening to overwhelm him. Fire burns in his shoulder as she pushes him back a little bit so she can pull the towel away and see the wound. Nausea has him keeping his mouth shut and his eyes are closed. He just listens to her work, trusting her with his life.
"Well, we were hula hooping one day on the sidewalk and she challenged me to who could hula hoop longer. I inevitably won," MJ continues as she pours a small amount of water over the stab wound to clean it before patting it with the towel again. She works efficiently and he marvels at her, as he always does. "She got angry and I don't know how she even did this… I think her hula hoop was old, used to belong to her older sister. But she cracked the hula hoop and one of the ends went flying towards me. It cut open my arm. I know how silly that sounds.
"Back at school, I lied. Told them I got in a fight with a mugger, sometimes. Or that I fought with a shark. Anything to make me sound cooler."
Peter smiles through the pain, amazed at how she can do this. He can feel the tug on his skin as she starts stitching. He doesn't know if he'd be as calm in the situation but he's grateful for her, infinitely grateful.
"So… why did you come to me, anyway? You didn't explain. Why me? Or Ned? I know that I've sold you coffee a few times but… you really trust me," MJ says, the abrupt change of topic taking him by surprise and he wonders if that was her intention. Curiosity colors her tone but she still focuses on the stitches.
"I can't… tell you," Peter says, knowing how ridiculous that sounds. He opens one eye, seeing the way her eyebrows are scrunched, her lips pressed together in a way that signals annoyance.
MJ doesn't respond until she's finished with the stitches, tying it off as neatly as she can and using the small scissors from the first aid kit to cut off the string. As soon as she's done, she bandages it, neatly but quickly, obviously wanting to be done with it. It's a bit off center but he doesn't mind.
Bandaging done, the wound mostly covered, and pain washing over him like several tidal waves at once, MJ sits back in the chair and observes him.
"That doesn't seem very fair, does it? After I went through all the trouble of literally stitching you up on my bed while my parents are sleeping in the other room and I have to work in about four hours."
Peter chokes out a laugh, using his uninjured hand to press against his face. She's right. It's not fair. None of this is fair. "Would you believe me if I say it's because I've noticed you at the coffee shop? You sound… nice."
MJ shakes her head, reaching up to smooth one of the corners of the bandage. Her fingers linger, cool against his overly hot skin. It makes him swallow hard, both of them blushing again before she quickly withdraws. "No. I don't believe that. You trust me. That's obvious. So, tell me the truth. Are you stalking me? Is that how you know what window I am and that I would take care of you?"
"No," Peter says quickly because he doesn't want her to think that. He doesn't want her scared of him, or thinking the worst of him. He lets out a breath, looking into her eyes and he… gives up.
Just like when he'd been ready to give up outside but had been drawn to her. It's been so hard staying away from her, watching her be happy, watching her prepare for college and get hit on by customers at the coffee shop. Peter wants her to be happy, would give anything for her to be happy but… he's missed her. He needs her. Not just as Spider-Man but as Peter Parker. He needs her to talk to, misses her wisdom and her wit, her charm and her understanding. He misses her. He loves her.
He doesn't realize that he's crying again until she's leaning forward, confusion and sympathy warring on her features.
"You don't need to tell me," MJ whispers, her hands clasped together in her lap.
He laughs, shaking his head and reaching up to rub his eyes. "I love you," he breathes and it's probably the worst thing that he could say. She leans back, sympathy washing off her face, replaced with what Peter thinks is fear. Her hands clasp tighter, her mouth opening and then closing. Peter hates himself for not being able to stay away from her, not being able to just let her live… but he's already this far. Besides, she had said she wanted this. "And you used to love me."
MJ opens her mouth again but nothing comes out. She's not running at least but Peter knows he could have done this easier. He thinks about the note he had written, had practiced in the mirror. But he can't think of that now. All he can do is stare in her eyes. "I don't understand. You don't know me. And I don't know you. Not really."
"You did," Peter whispers, adjusting a little so he can lean forward, although he doesn't reach out for her. It means something to him that she doesn't try to move away from him and he wonders if something in her knows this already. "You used to. Do you remember Mysterio?"
Silence as MJ seems to think and then she nods, biting her lower lip.
Peter takes a steadying breath, wishing he'd chosen any other time for this. Not a time when he's half focused on how much his shoulder hurts. Too late now. "Before he died, he told the world that I'm Spider-Man, that Spider-Man is Peter Parker." MJ shakes her head which doesn't surprise him because she doesn't remember such a thing. "I should've started at the beginning. This is kind of complicated."
"And you're probably delirious from pain," MJ points out which makes Peter nod.
After a second, he sighs, seems to deflate because he has to tell her all of it, doesn't he? She had wanted him to. That's what he keeps reminding himself. He had wanted to protect her but she had wanted to be with him. "We didn't meet at the coffee shop. We met at school. Me and Ned were best friends and you teased us relentlessly, along with everybody else." As Peter speaks, he has to look away from her, afraid he's going to cry even more. MJ just stares at him, confused and maybe a little worried about his mental state. "Um, anyway, we went on that field trip overseas and… well, eventually we… confessed our feelings for each other. And you figured out I was Spider-Man."
"Peter, this is a nice story, I guess but… that didn't happen. Spider-Man saved us, you… saved us. But I don't remember any of that. You're not part of our class," MJ says, voice soft, as if she's delivering bad news to him.
"In a video," Peter says, breathing out and reaching up to rub his eyes. "Mysterio told everybody my identity and that I'd killed him, which wasn't true, not really, and… it was everywhere. You and Ned and I and… my…" he clears his throat. "my aunt were all arrested. I had to get a lawyer. And you two, all three of us were… rejected from college. Your lives were ruined because of me."
MJ shakes her head, a little firmer now and she leans forward, hands clasped so tight that he knows it must hurt. "Peter, Ned and I were wait-listed. But we both got in. It had nothing to do with- I don't understand why you're saying this, why you're lying like this. I don't know you. And I'm glad I helped you but-"
Peter looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers and he doesn't know how to explain it. It sounds crazy, even to his own ears. "I asked Dr. Strange to cast a spell. The world was supposed to forget that I was Spider-Man. But I- I tried to ruin it. I asked that you were able to remember, and Ned, and my aunt, and then Happy Hogan. Anyway," he's talking faster now, needing to get it all out before she stops listening to him. "The multi-verse was cracking. MJ, I didn't want to. But the only way was for everybody to forget that I was Spider-Man. Everybody had to forget, including you two. And you told me to come find you and I did but I… You two were happy. You got into college."
He can't continue past the lump in his throat and he sniffs again, turning his head away from her. He should leave, he tells himself. He should leave and let her get on with her life. She's happy. They're both happy without him and safe and…
Peter frowns, his eyes catching on her nightstand and he leans forward. She watches him suspiciously as he carefully picks up the broken necklace sitting on the table, right next to her phone. The tears slow as confusion takes over and he looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed. He didn't know the exact details of the spell, didn't know what it all meant. He just knew that it had to happen and people remembered Spider-Man but not him.
"Where did you get this?" he asks, holding the necklace in his hand, thumb sliding along the broken edge.
MJ stares at it, an emotion passing over her face quickly enough that he doesn't recognize it. Confusion, perhaps? "It's- On the trip. In England. Why? What does my necklace have to do with anything?"
"Because I gave it to you. Or, Happy did. On the trip. I bought it for you, though. You love the black dahlia," Peter says, chuckling quietly as he thinks about his plan to give it to her, how everything that had happened had been outside of his control but he's not sure he'd even change it. That kiss between them is something he cherishes.
MJ shakes her head again but there's something about her movement this time, as if she's less in control of herself. "No. I got it…" But she can't continue, pressing her lips together as she appears to think. He watches her face as she concentrates for a moment, then a wave of contentment passes over her face, as if she's forgotten, and then she catches sight of the necklace and thinks on it again.
"You don't remember where you got it?" Peter breathes, watching her hands as she snatches the necklace from him, clasping her hand so tight around it he wonders if the sharp edges hurt her palm.
"Just because I don't remember where I got it doesn't mean anything. Peter… this is crazy. If we were, what? What were you saying? If we were together, in love, I'd remember you."
Letting out a breath, Peter doesn't know how to convince her. With the most careful movements, to not startle her, he leans forward, resting one of his hands on top of her folded ones. "You love the black dahlia flower because of the murder. You're fascinated by serial killers. You get that from your mom. When you were little, you used to sneak into your mother's novels, starting reading biographies of serial killers before you even hit middle school. For your 12th birthday, your mother got you a serial killer encyclopedia and the two of you read it together every night as a bedtime story."
MJ can only stare at him, eyes wide, shining with unshed tears. She'd been embarrassed when she'd told him that, not that she had admitted it. But she'd been reading the newspaper, telling him about a murder that had occurred several years ago, and he'd asked about her interest. Serial killers were interesting her, he knew that, but true crime was also something that bonded her with her mother. One of the only things that bonded her to her mother.
"You're stalking me," MJ finally whispers, looking down at his hand on top of hers, her hands tensing underneath his. She looks like she's going to cry and he's going to cry again if she does.
"You told me. Just like you told me about your father, your favorite uncle who went to jail because he tried to rob a bank when you were a little girl," Peter says, not even caring as he learns forward to press his other hand against hers, pulling his stitches. The pain doesn't matter as much as the look in her eyes. "You talk a lot actually, once you get to know a person. You didn't before. But… you trusted me. You trusted me and I trust you. And I'm sorry that I failed that trust. I'm sorry I didn't… tell you. About me. I told you I would but I just… I just wanted you to be happy, MJ. I wanted you to live a life without my complications and I- I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry."
A few tears leak down MJ's cheeks, matching Peter's crying. Something jolts her forward though, wrapping her arms around him, still careful about the wound on his shoulder. His breath catches as she rests her cheek against his and he knows she believes him. He knows he probably didn't explain everything, that he has so much more to say to her. But he knows then that she believes him. She has to.
For a few moments, they just hold each other and Peter has never been more grateful for a hug in his life. He simply breathes her in, his eyes closed.
"Peter," MJ breathes, pulling back just enough to look at him. There are so many emotions in her eyes and he wishes he could calm her. He wants so badly to fix things for her right now but he knows that he can't. "What happened? You said there was a spell and we just… forgot?"
Peter nods, biting his lip for a moment as he tries to think of how to explain it. "I don't know the details. About the necklace and… everything else, your memories. But I came to tell you and I told you I'd come find you both, you and Ned." Peter's eyes are burning and he knows he's going to cry again. He doesn't want to, is so over crying. He just wants the night to be over, wants all of this to have never happened, wishes he was back in the apartment with May. But he so often wishes that. "Then you told me you love me. And before I said it back, you told me to wait. To say it to you when I saw you again. That's why I came into the coffee shop that day. But you were… the bandage over your eye. I didn't want you to get hurt again. I never wanted either of you to get hurt because of me."
Seemingly without thinking of it, MJ reaches up, to the spot where she'd had the cut over her eye. It's completely healed by now and her hand moves away just as quickly, back to his own. He hangs onto her like a lifeline. "I'm still… confused," MJ admits, a small smile on her lips that makes him want to lean forward and kiss her but he knows better. "But… I believe you. You obviously know me. Maybe it's stupid. This is how… if you were actually a stalker, you could probably have figured this out. And then you'll kill me and keep my body and… anyway. I don't think that. I believe you."
"I love you. And I don't say that to pressure you or make you uncomfortable. I just need you to know," Peter says softly, his thumb sliding along her skin as they sit close, their hands held between them. His shoulder is hurting and now that he's not concentrating as hard on convincing her, it's starting to distract him. "I wanted so bad to stay away but I couldn't anymore. I should go, though."
MJ shakes her head, her hands tightening on his. "What? No? Where would you go?"
"I have an apartment," Peter says, not making any moves away from her. How could he even think of doing that when she's holding onto him in this way? "It's just a few blocks away."
"No. You should stay. I don't even know if those stitches are going to stay or if you're going to bleed out. You need to stay here. It's okay. My parents will go to work in the morning and then you can go home if you really need to. I'll call out of work," MJ says, her voice getting increasingly desperate and he wonders whether she'd be doing this for just anybody.
He thinks she would, though. He knows her and he knows she has a kind and caring heart underneath her anti-social exterior. Still. Peter presses his lips together, trying to think about it. He shouldn't. It's stupid to stay with her, to risk her parents finding out, to put her at risk by being here, to make her miss work.
Still, she's already at risk.
"You said you came to me because you knew I was safe. Because you trust me. So, trust me. Let me be your safety," MJ whispers and he feels all the reasons he shouldn't stay draining away. She's trying to look matter of fact but he can see the emotion behind her eyes. If he stays, he can explain more, try to give her more information about magic and the multi-verse and everything else. He can try to catch her interest again, let her see him in the hopes that she can love him again.
Peter nods, taking a deep breath and wincing as a fire lights in his shoulder again. She stands up, as if that's everything, coaxing him to lay down. "No, I'll sleep on the floor," he tries to insist but she rolls her eyes.
"You got stabbed," MJ argues, moving towards her dresser again. She digs through a bottom drawer, pulling a pair of sweatpants out of it and tossing them over. "Here. I'm going to grab a glass of water and put the first aid kit away. Get changed and then I'll sleep in the chair. It'll be fine. I've fallen asleep in my desk chair before."
Peter knows better than to argue with her and so he takes a breath, wondering if he'll ever get used to being around her. Wonders if he's ever going to lose the sense of awe of just being near her. She's… everything, he thinks.
MJ seems to see something in his eyes because she softens, something that he knows he's one of the only ones who have ever seen. "I'll be right back…" she turns towards the door and then turns back to him, reaching up to push her hair over her ear. "And Peter… I don't know how I feel about you right now. I'm sure that's not what you want to hear but… I'm still confused. I'd like to know more but… What I do know is that I'm glad you told me. If what you said is true, and I… believe you, I wanted to know. I would've hated myself if you had… been hurt and not able to come to me. So, if you ever need me, I'm here."
Without waiting for a response, MJ turns towards the door. That vulnerability is obviously a lot for her, especially around somebody that just a few hours ago, she likely would've considered a stranger. Peter spends too long smiling at the door before realizing that he really should get changed before she comes back.
Peter hates himself a little bit for getting her involved in this, knows that he's going to have to tell Ned again too but… a bigger part of himself feels lighter. The hole in his heart isn't healed, by far, but… he feels better now. Being near MJ, knowing that he's going to have Ned back too… Peter wishes he'd done this sooner.
When he's dressed again, he lays down on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable without pulling at the stitches. Although he wants to wait for her to come back, he falls asleep quickly, exhausted from emotions and pain and everything that had happened that day.
Peter doesn't know if he dreams it but he feels MJ's touch only moments after he falls asleep, pushing his hair off his forehead and then pressing a soft kiss to his skin. As soon as he feels that, he lets himself fall deeper. Because MJ was right. He trusts her and now he knows that he's okay, that everything is going to be okay.
