MARVEL IMAGINES

PETER QUILL || best friend's support

When you woke up that night to go to the toilet, you weren't expecting to have to console your best friend from a nightmare induced panic attack.

•••

You woke groggily (like any normal person). You also groaned quietly to yourself when you realised the sudden urge you had to go to the toilet. You mentally cursed yourself for not going before you went to sleep that night, throwing the blanket off you. The cold instantly hit your body, undoubtedly walking you up. You sat up while rubbing your eyes, your feet hitting the cold floor of your room.

You did your business, desperately wanting to get back into the comfort of your bed.

You were only half way back to your room when you heard a particular nose. You didn't know what it was at first. It was quiet, but loud enough to hear whilst walking by. It took a few seconds to realise they were sobs.

You froze, trying to get a better listen to the cries, and where it was coming from. You walked towards it, and it led you to the room of your best friend, Peter Quill.

•••

You held onto him lightly as he gripped onto you. You rocked him back and forth in an attempt to settle his crying. He was a mess. Beyond coherent, his voice as broken as his heart.

You spent a large portion of the night consoling Peter, trying to make him feel better. It took a while before his breathing slowed, and even longer for the tears to stop. His voice came back even later, light and shaky. He only told you about his nightmare the day after.

It was about his mother. It was awful, heart wrenchingly my painful. No wonder he was so distraught. The poor man.

You stayed with Peter every night until he felt comfortable once again. This was about a week in retrospect, but maybe you should have stayed longer. You didn't really know.

You supported him as best as you could for the rest of days, never wanting him to be that bad again.

—
WRITTEN BY ELLE