C'mon, Peter. Just get in, do what you gotta do, and get out of there before you get hurt.

Motionless, the boy attempted to calm his nerves. Facing your biggest enemy once and for all was no simple task. It was the kind of tricky battle that required both calculated moves and quick thinking.

Just breathe. Go in strong, on the count of three.

The anxiety that filled his stomach made him nauseous. But bending over to wretch his emotions out onto the floor in the form of his breakfast would require him to tear his eyes away from the entrance, and looking away would ruin his calculations. If just one extra bystander was in the way, it might mean certain harm for Peter Parker.

Three.

In all his fifteen years of life, he had faced only a few challenges as big as the one he faced now. He was sure that, in all his time as Spider-Man, no encounter ever demanded so much strength. This battle needed to end today. He was sick of the anxiety, the self-doubt. He was tired of looking into the mirror every day and never feeling good enough.

Two.

It didn't help that this particular enemy plagued his life: it followed him down into the grime of the subway, back into the pristine spaces of restaurants, and around Mathletes competitions, not stopping despite the presence of his friends. Worst of all, it followed him to school. If he was quick enough (which he always was), he was able to avoid the entire situation and make it to the safety of his own apartment. But Peter was done running.

One.

A minute and a half later, the deed having been done, Peter Parker walked out of the boys' bathroom, wiping his hands dry on his pants. He grinned at his own sense of emotional –and physical‒ relief.

Seconds after that, the bell rang for the end of third period. Students filled the hallways, and no one looked twice at the trans boy, reveling in his own masculinity. If he could pass through it once, he could pass through it again. And maybe next time, he'll even be able to do it with other people in the room.