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Ned doesn’t know what triggered it this time. It could be any number of things; getting called to answer a question in comp sci and answering wrong, being nervous about the upcoming Decathlon nationals, seeing Peter almost die on TV again or just the steady dreadful presence of the open and unpredictable future. Ned likes numbers and probabilities. Mostly he can dissect the world into manageable numbers, but somethings defy calculation, and that’s where things get scary. And that’s when his lungs forget how to draw air.
There aren’t many people who know about his panic attacks. He tends to hide his struggles from people, fanning the flames of his enthusiasm and curiosity until his insecurities are lost under a mask of positivity. Most people have enough problems already, especially his loved ones, and he doesn't want to add on to them. Even so, sometimes the uncertainty welling beneath becomes too much and erupts in a sudden, unpredictable attack. He’s calm and cheerful and normal until he suddenly somehow can’t breathe and the panic threatens to drag him under.
For some time, even Peter didn’t know these outbursts, but then the got bitten by a radioactive spider, and suddenly it was way harder to keep secrets from him. A part of him is disgruntled at having this one last embarrassing thing uncovered, but mostly he’s relieved. Now he has someone to cover for him whenever the attacks come, and Peter being Peter, he also learnt everything there is to learn about panic attacks so he could help Ned whenever they came his way. Not that it always helps.
“Ummm, I think you should put your hand on my chest, you know, to help establish a better breathing pattern? Or was it that I’m supposed make you sit in front of me? Ummm—”
If Ned could breathe, he would tell Peter to stop fretting, because it is making him even more worked up.
“Wait, I got it!” his friend exclaims. He gently guides Ned to sit in front of him, takes his hand and puts it against Ned’s chest. It’s unexpectedly reassuring and best of all, grounding.
“What’s the Pythagorean equation?”
Now this, this is something Ned could answer in his sleep. On his next exhale, he blurts out, “A2 added to B2 equals C2.”
“Good. Now tell me how to calculate the perimeter of a circle.”
Ned inhales deeply, and says, “Pi multiplied by diameter.”
“Euler’s equation?”
“V minus E plus F equals 2.”
“Euler-Lagrange equation?”
Ned takes a breath and starts listing the symbols.
And so they continue, Peter throwing increasingly more difficult equations Ned’s way and Ned answers them easily. As his breathing slowly calms down and his faculties return to him, Ned takes a moment to appreciate this moment. Peter has a way of reminding him that no matter what, there are plenty of numbers in the universe that make sense, that Ned’s one of the few people in Midtown High who actually can list out the first hundred letters of pi and hack into an actual Stark suit, and that everything will be alright in the end.
Ned has always felt immensely grateful for their friendship. They've known each other for so long that they know almost every aspect of each other; the good and the bad. They also have similar enough personalities that they understand each other's problems and even share some traits, but also have enough differences not to get on each other's nerves. His confidence is a wavering thing, just like Peter’s, and together they’ve learnt how to lift each other up in dark moments; for Peter it's random checkups and cuddles, and for Ned it's distractions during panic attacks and reminders of his own capabilities. During these years they’ve learnt to be vulnerable with each other - to ask for help, to share thoughts and secrets - and their friendship has grown all the more stronger for that. A bond like theirs is hard to come by, and Ned will always be grateful of that fateful day he gathered the nerve to ask Peter to play with him in kindergarten.
Sure, there are drawbacks, like when Peter is too preoccupied by his extra-curriculars to be there for Ned, or when Ned gets caught up with his other friends and Peter gets insecure about their friendship, but doesn’t want to admit it, or when Ned can’t sleep because he knows Peter is out patrolling and he can’t help but wonder if this is the night Peter won’t come back home. But most of the time they’re there for each other and Ned can always spend the night talking to Peter on patrol to reassure himself of his safety. Besides, the cons never outweigh the pros. Ned would suffer tons of sleepless nights, because having someone who’s always in his corner, always ready to help him, is worth all of that, it’s worth more than he can ever express.
Friends are the family you choose, which means that the odds of Peter leaving him are close to zero, close to naught, and that is really comforting for Ned. Zero is the central figure in mathematics, one of the constants of universe; the starting point and the end, the infinite loop. Ned likes to think that it symbolizes their relationship nicely as well; Peter is one of his constants, one of the few central people in his life, the one who stays where acquaintances and other friends and even significant others may come and go. The one who stays, and who he trusts and who trusts back implicitly.
Ned’s breathing has calmed down, but Peter’s still continuing to fire his questions.
“What’s a root in mathematics?”
Ned smiles, as he answers, “Zero.”
He inhales deeply, enjoying the unrestricted airflow, and says, “I’m okay now. Thanks.”
Peter squeezes him tightly as if to ask, “are you sure?”, and Ned squeezes his hand to answer, “yeah.”
They get up from the floor, and if this was anyone else, Ned would be embarrassed. But it’s just Peter, with concern lingering in his eyes, so he decides to dissuade him.
He tries to say he’s okay, but what comes out is, “Never stop being my zero, man.”
Peter’s expression creases in bewildered confusion, which was not exactly Ned’s purpose, but he’ll take it.
“Sure?”
“What I meant to say, is thanks. Thanks for being there,” Ned says quietly, injecting as much sincerity in his voice as he can.
The softening of Peter’s features tells him that he got his message. They share a tight, warm hug, completing it with their signature handshake, before bracing themselves for the rest of the school day. The clock strikes 12.00, and Ned smiles.
Ned has always liked numbers and probabilities, but zero is one of the numbers he likes the most and he doesn’t see that fact changing for a long time.