Peter woke up abruptly, jolting up in bed with his breaths coming out hard and heavy.
His pajamas and sheets were drenched in sweat and his blanket was twisted around his body like a giant python, tightening on him like one too, restricting him from breathing fully.
Light-headed and heart racing, Peter pulled at the blanket. But when it wouldn't come off, he panicked and thrashed and tore at it. There was loud
and the blanket fell in tatters on the floor and across his lap. He took in lungs full of air, breathing deeply as his panic-induced mind tried to settle.
He felt hot and sticky, suffocatingly so, and ripped off his shirt, much like the blanket, and threw it across the room.
Peter sat there on his bed, completely still, trying to grasp, for a moment, where he was. He...he was in Aunt May's house, at home; he was in his own bed, and everything was okay...
everything was...okay? Unable to stop himself from shaking, Peter wrapped his arms around himself and brought his knees up to his chest; he slowly rocked himself.
Read the rest via the link in the description!