Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

The Fluorescent Light Incident

Spooktober 30: Freestyle

The lights were buzzing.

Peter was trying to focus his energy on the godforsaken quiz on the Cold War, and the lights were their own burning buzzing nuclear weapons right for his head. His brain felt like a balloon about to pop, and even though Peter was squinting down at his paper he could still see the flickering of the old fluorescent light right in front of his seat.

He was about to break something. He could almost hear the crunch of the pencil in his hand once he finally snaps. His head hurt so badly he might just scream, pass out, or both.

Usually, he can tell when a sensory overload is going to creep up on him, because MOST of the time, it starts as a dull itch in his skin and gets worse as the day progresses. But then there are days like these, where everything is fine when he wakes up, and fine when he's on the subway, and fine when he's in first period, and second period, and third period, and lunch—

Then as soon as he gets to his next class he realizes that the lightbulb in the stupid box above his head needs to be replaced now, actually, and it would surely remind him about it every second with a head-splitting brightness, even if he wasn't the one doing the replacing.

The way that it trembled unevenly, flickering in and out and in and out—Peter could see every tiny change to the room. Every little bit of light, moving with every slight shadow and shade. And when the light itself was already so irritating from the vibrancy it carried, it was only adding more and more air to the balloon in his head.

And god— The sound.

No creature should be able to produce such a horrific screeching. It was so high-pitched, like the sound ringing in his ears after he wakes up mid-fight from being knocked out, except the sound never went away and it made him wince and grind his teeth for hours afterwards.

Halfway through a question about the Berlin Airlift, Peter just can't take it anymore. His head is pounding so badly that he can feel the blood in his ears. Sweat is dripping down the back of his neck, and he's feeling dizzy, and the stupid light won't stop.

Peter drops his pencil before he can snap it in half. He presses his palms into his eyelids to try and make everything dark, for just a moment, but instead the pressure on his eyes almost has him throwing up.

People are starting to finish their tests. Peter can tell by the way the teens around him are flipping pages restlessly. He takes a deep, slow breath.

All at once, he has an even louder screaming coming from his head, as well as an overwhelming blooming sensation around his arm. He jerks his elbow back and looks over with wide eyes.

Ned is staring at back at him with extreme concern, his hand held out from where he was originally planning to touch Peter's forearm.

"Peter," Ned whispers, and it echoes so loudly around the room that Peter can see black spots in his vision. "Are you okay?"