Hi everyone! Hope you had a fabulous week. I am crazy busy with school right now and have responded to so many discussion boards (if you have online classes you know what I'm talking about) that I could do them in my sleep. Thank you for all the lovely feedback! :)

The refresh button on his email was worn out by the end of the week. His eyes were heavy and constant churning in his stomach were starting to wear on him. May knew right away that something was bothering him. The Belgian waffles stacked with strawberries and whipped cream perfumed the kitchen the morning after the presentation. Peter took his time cutting the waffle into small cubes and loading a piece of strawberry into each bed before dousing the whole structure with maple syrup. He was so engrossed in his building that the concerned glances his aunt were sending his way went unnoticed. It wasn't until she reached over to still one of his hands that he realized how quiet the kitchen was. The fork clattered onto the table at the contact.

"Sweetheart, do you want talk about it?" Her eyes furrowed as she took in the dark circles painted under his eyes.

May had been upset when she was called in last minute, leaving Peter to go to the presentation alone. He had been lying on his bed when her voice pierced through the thin walls of their apartment. The feet padding back and forth in the other room were heavier than normal and her voice was tight. The day had marked in red on their calendar since Christmas for both of them, May knowing Peter would go all the way in the competition. A sick coworker and an adamant boss stood in the way. "May was their best" and "it was important that she came in today," were some of the phrases used.

Peter heard as she tossed her phone onto the couch before making her way to his room. A tentative knock sounded and her head popped through the doorframe. His manual bent with ease against he covers as he observed her disappointed expression and set the conductor he was working on aside. The new stack of books he found at a thrift store caught her eye and she lingered to look over the titles. It was an assortment of genres and her eyebrows rose when she spotted a romance toward the bottom.

The bed dipped low under their combined weight, encouraging the two to lean against each other. Their shoulders touched and Peter leaned into the touch, smelling her familiar sweet perfume.

"Peter…"

"It's okay, May. I heard." She played with the hem of his sheet not making eye contact. "I'll be fine."

The room was silent for a moment and Peter worried that he had said the wrong phrase. He knew how hard May worked for them, for him, and he didn't want to be selfish with her time. Her hand rose and she carded her fingers through his bangs before running it down his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth whispered onto his skin.

"I know you will be sweetheart, but I said I would go. I was looking forward to being your cheerleader." He swallowed down the growing knot in his throat not wanting May to see how much he needed her there; how much he wanted her to cheer him on.

"Me too but, uh, I could do it for you here. You know? It would give me some extra practice." Her smile lit up the room and he couldn't help but beam back, glad that he could cheer her up.

The coffee pot was refilled numerous times that night and their late night popcorn snack spilled all over the couch and floor. She had written and rewritten the words on notecards for him to use. He never had the heart to tell her that they had fallen to the ground at the beginning of the presentation and remained unused.

He hadn't actually spoken about the presentation besides a simple fine when she asked. Even that small admission was difficult to articulate, not fully believing the words himself. It was paramount to act like everything was normal, like he wasn't still suffering from embarrassment and dread. Peter wanted to see the same proud smile of hers light up the room when he told her the hopefully good news. He needed to be everything that she already thought he was and it was all riding on an email that hadn't appeared. So he kept quiet and forced a piece of waffle down his throat; confident that they tasted wonderful but the morsel was stale against his tongue. By the time he was done his stomach protruded uncomfortably as he watched the water run down the plate and concentrate in the sink.

"I don't want to talk about it but I need to do some homework…" He responded.

"Say no more. I'll finish up here. You go ahead." Her cheek was warm against his lips and she patted his head before he ducked out of the room.

It wasn't until the following week that anything happened. His eyes were drooping in English, an atrocity that never happened before, but Austen just wasn't keeping his attention today. Mr. Darcy would have to wait to deliver his letter until he could re-read the chapter tonight. The class got quiet when a head poked into the room, whispering to the teacher. Mrs. Brzozowski glanced at him and with a disapproving voice brought his attention forward.

"Mr. Parker, Principal Morita would like to see you in his office."

He blank stare made her tap her fingers on the desk. "Now, Mr. Parker." Her voice though not unkind left no room for argument and he scrambled to get his stuff; careful to watch his feet so he didn't fall on the way to the door.

The anxiousness stifled the air and he had to stop and lean against the lockers. Had he done something wrong? He tried to recall anything that had happened in the last week but nothing came to mind. He had fallen asleep a couple times in Social Studies last week, maybe that was it?

The fire escape had become a sort of haven for him as his fears started to manifest themselves in his dreams. Beyond the time when May's breath evened out and the apartments next door settled into quiet, he would crawl out of the window into the night. It made him feel small staring up at the sky. Reminded him that he was one of billions of people on a planet the size of a grain of sand in the sandbox that was the universe. Logically, he knew that wasn't how it worked but the feeling seized him and sometimes when the sounds of the city washed over him, he could find reprieve. The rough brick supporting against his back and he would fall asleep for a couple of hours. But even those short intervals of rest weren't enough and Social Studies was boring.

Mr. Washington wished him a good morning as he stepped into the office.

"You can go inside, Peter." He said as he observed the boy shifting back and forth. He smiled in hopes of encouraging him forward.

Mr. Washington had been kind to him at the beginning of the year. When he had been lost in his grief it was hard for him to act in a socially acceptable way. Others felt uncomfortable around him, unsure of how to act, but Mr. Washington treated him like normal. He scolded Peter when he had skipped class and once when he got lost, helped him find his way to class. Sometimes he would stop before lunch and talk to the secretary.

Sighing, his knuckles rapped on the wood door before heading in. He kept his head down, worried about the look he would see in the principal's eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Morita. I promise I won't fall asleep again." A throat cleared and he whipped his head up. The principal's hands were steepled under his chin. Across from Morita was Flash. The two stared at him as he stood frozen in the doorway.

"Mr. Parker, please come in. There's a seat next to Flash for you."

Peter swallowed before sitting in the seat, making sure he was as far from Flash as possible. If the principal noticed the tension in the room he gave no indication. He sat flipping through some papers on his desk while Peter continued to worry. His expression was serious before landing on the two boys and then he smiled.

"Well boys. You did it."

Peter's heart dropped. Here he was sitting in the principal's office, Flash with him, and the only option was that he was in trouble. Why else had he been summoned here in the middle of class? His breathing was uneven as he glanced over at Flash. Maybe he had blamed something on Peter? It wouldn't be the first time. The boy was smirking and seemed to know what the principal was talking about.

"Um…" He had to cough to clear his throat. "Mr. Morita? What is this about?"

"It is with great pride that I can be the one to say that each of you have been chosen for the final rounds of the S.T.A.R.K. competition. In fact, Midtown is the only high school where both candidates were selected. Congratulations are in order boys. Good work and I know you will do Midtown proud in the final round. Now, it will be held…"

Peter's heart felt like it simultaneously stopped and sped up at the same time. The beating crescendoed and deafened his ears from the incessant tone. He had done it. He made it to the final round. Instead of just glancing at the back of Mr. Stark's head from behind a plant, he would get to share with his idol. He couldn't wait to tell May.

One question bothered him. Why was Flash here? He had the burning urge to interrupt the principal and ask why it was Flash and not Seymour sitting next to him but he couldn't. Glancing at Flash covertly to see if there was any surprise on his face yielded nothing. The question died on his tongue when Morita addressed them again.

"If there is nothing else I want to say I'm proud of the work both of you put in and to break a tibia in the upcoming rounds. We'll be there, cheering you on."

He stood to let them leave and they shuffled out of the office. Mr. Washington was behind his desk and waved goodbye.

He could hear Flash's footsteps behind him and again the itch to ask came over him. Peter turned around to try and catch a glimpse of his classmate. The boy's cocky attitude was gone and was replaced by a sulky teen. His question lodged in his throat once more. The mirror had reflected that face enough times for him to know that any question would not be received well. He hadn't realized he had stopped walking until Flash halted right behind him.

"Dude. Parker. What's the matter with you? Don't just stop in the middle of the hallway."

There was no way he could go back to class. The energy from the news was coursing through him making his hands sweat. The nights of restless sleep surged in him but instead of making him feel like he could sleep for years, he felt he had just taken a shot of adrenaline. Like he could take the world upon his shoulders. He was going to present The Weaver. He was going to the final rounds with Flash. What was the world coming to?

"Do you want to go get a sandwich or something?" He blurted out without thinking. And now he had just asked Flash to get lunch with him. He must really have lost it.

Flash, for his part, looked surprised. His brows furrowed, lips pressed in a straight line, as he searched Peter's gaze. Finding no ulterior motive he shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure." Peter did a double take to make sure it was the same Flash he had known all year before leading the way out of school. His fingers rang through the hair at the back of his neck as they walked toward the exit.

They awkwardly bumped shoulders through the doorway, which had Peter muttering an apology and Flash telling him to shut up. His tone lacked its normal harsh quality while delivering insults and Peter ignored it but regretted blurting out the invitation. Flash followed him on the sidewalks and through the throngs of people going about their day.

They turned into one of Peter's favorite delis; though nothing was better than Delmar's. Peter had been raised to always be polite and because he invited, attempted to pay for Flash's sandwich only to have his hand slapped away. He muttered under his breath that he could pay for it himself and that he wasn't poor. Peter's face had heated and cursed himself for asking Flash of all people to do this.

Not wanting to be stuck sitting at a table with Flash they ate and walked. The awkwardness between them was muted by the distraction of food but once they were done Peter was at a loss as to what to do and the awkward feeling in his stomach clenched around the ingested sandwich.

The whole situation was bizarre. How was he supposed to try and talk with Flash, someone who didn't like him, if at times he had a hard time opening up to someone who did? Any attempts at conversation had been rejected by Flash and he remained silent for the rest of the time alarmingly conscious of the other boy's actions. After all this was one of his bullies at school. He had to pinch himself to make sure this whole sandwich fiasco he had created was real. The boy was staring straight ahead and seemed to not feel the turn of Peter's thoughts. They turned around the corner and the school came into view.

"So, uh, this was..."

"Don't you dare say nice, Parker."

The year worth of stomping down on his emotions, of being to afraid to say anything, and letting others walk over him came to a head. His hands shook as he stuffed them into his pockets. Why did Flash hate him so much? Peter rounded on the boy who took a step back.

"You know what, Flash. I don't know what I ever did to you and I'm sorry but I'm sick and tired of you being so mean. What did I ever do to you? And doesn't it ever get tiring being negative all the time? I've been trying to be nice all day although I don't know why because you've been terrible all year and this has just been a pain. I get we are not friends. You have made that abundantly clear, so, sorry about today."

His steps were heavy against the pavement and he tried to funnel his rage out with every step as he left the boy speechless in the middle of the sidewalk. Peter couldn't believe he had just spoken to Flash like that. It felt good, releasing all that tension. Sure, there had been an apology in there somewhere but he felt lighter for having spoken. He only hoped that his little speech wouldn't cause trouble for him later.

He didn't realize that Flash had caught up to him until he felt fingers close around his arm. Instinctively he tensed up. Finger by finger the grip removed itself and Flash stepped around to face Peter who was busy staring at the ground.

"Don't be such a wimp, Parker." He said and Peter sighed, turning to walk away again. "Wait, look man. Today was fine, so thanks. And I, uh, wouldn't say no to doing it again."

That was unexpected. Peter briefly glanced at Flash before looking down. There was a small gleam of hopefulness in his eyes that Peter had glimpsed. Was Flash trying to be nice? There had been no apology, for anything, but he had said he would do it again. For Flash that was down right saintly but Peter was still weary. He thought he would be stupid if he weren't after the year he had undergone.

"Uh, maybe, Flash. I've got to go actually but I'll see you at the finals." He looked up to see how the boy would take his response and couldn't quiet read what was there but they nodded at each other and turned to go opposite ways. Flash toward the circle drive where a valet was waiting to come get him and Peter hurried to the subway, walking down the steps and into the underground tunnel. He couldn't believe the day he just had and couldn't wait to tell May what had happened.

His freshman year had dragged by at a snails pace. Not only had he lost Ben but he was at a new school and everyone steered clear of him besides Flash and his buddies, including Seymour. They had taken it on themselves to lay down the welcome mat for Peter but this time they pulled it out from under his feet.

What was the most bothersome to him was that there was no reason for it. They had just taken a dislike to him and Peter had nothing else but to assume it was his looks or personality in some way that made them hate him. He had taken it to heart and felt like if he could just be less of himself, they would like him. The worst of it all was that he cemented these feelings in. Kept them bricked up so that May wouldn't worry about him.

He ducked under a broken fence and winded through an alley to get to the stairs to his apartment, which sagged under his light footing as he made his way to the door. The key swept out from under the fraying matt with ease. He had to pull the door toward him before pushing it hard with his shoulder to get it to open.

May wasn't home yet and he walked around the empty apartment not taking any notice of the facedown picture frames or faded paint. After going through the day a couple more times he made it to his bedroom. The bed groaned as he threw himself on the mattress, it bounced once before going concave. He plucked Austen from his backpack and was sucked into a whirlwind of romance and miscommunication.

Peter was knocked out of his thoughts by the sound of the door being slammed open and keys clattering onto the island counter.

"I'm home, Peter." May yelled from the entrance and he bolted from the room. His nerves making his actions jerky and he hit his toe on the door jam. Jumping up and down he made it to where May was standing and took her purse. He helped he out of her light jacket before hugging her tightly.

May gave the best hugs. Ask anyone and they would tell you that her hugs could heal the world. He thought if he could inherit anything from her, even though they weren't blood related, it would be that. She laughed and patted him on the back.

"Hi sweetie. Not that I'm complaining but what was that for?" She asked while stroking his cheek.

Peter ducked his head. The words he wanted to say were stuck in his mouth. A whole year of work had led up to this and he didn't want to disappoint her. Didn't want to disappoint Ben. She could see the confusion in his eyes and led them over to the couch pushed into the corner of the living room. The workout mats that May had used were strewn about in the middle of the room. It creaked under their weight and they ended up lying on it more than sitting.

"Peter, sweetheart. What is it?"

"I, uh, skipped half of school. I'm sorry." She looked surprise but May could see there was something else.

"Okay, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

He fidgeted with the hem of his sweatshirt before looking into her eyes. There was nothing but concern and love there. It was just May, he thought. He had nothing to be scared of. Nothing. And yet this seemed almost as terrifying as presenting in front of the judges the other day. With a deep breath he tried to focus, to sound strong but his words came out as nothing more than a mumble.

"I got into the final round." He sat as it sunk in. She was too still, too quiet.

He was shocked to find wells of water gathering in her eyes. She blinked at him and the wells overflowed and embraced her cheeks and neck. A shaky smile stole over her face.

"I, uh, May?" Instead of replying she threw her arms around him and Peter was reminded of all those times as a child she had held him. When he had been hurt or just needed some extra love May was always there for him. Even now, though he was older, she knew when something was wrong and would unobtrusively gift him with her hugs. She whispered all sorts of congratulations and told him how proud she was. Peter let her hold him. He reveled in it and they sat together for a while. Slowly, she sat back and he could feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder as she looked at him.

"Peter, I am so proud of you. No matter what happens I just know that Ben will be looking down and be proud of you as well. I love you, Sweetheart."

His nerves, for the time being, were covered by a blanket of love that May had woven. Dinner was quiet and he returned to his room to finish up some homework and try to fall asleep.

He could feel his heart pounding like staccato notes in his chest as he woke up. His muscles were tense and he could feel the sheets sticking to his limbs. The dream slipped away before Peter could remember, the sickly haze covering him the only indicator he had dreamed anything.

It felt like a great weight was pressing down his chest making it impossible to expand his lungs. The walls felt tighter and he reached a hand out to press against the wall so they wouldn't shrink anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping that they would be back to normal but at the count of ten they enclosed in on him further. Peter's breaths were ragged and he abandoned his attempt to stop the shrinking. With shaky hands he tumbled out of bed and grasped the window, panicking when it wouldn't budge. It snapped open with one last push and he fell out the window. His lungs expanded and stung with the cool air.

The railing was cold beneath his hands with the spring climate and he settled on the stairs. His legs were free to move through the air as he sat leaning his head through the slots.

The sounds of the city echoed around him as his thoughts reeled. His phone screen shone bright on his face as he once again refreshed his email. On seeing a notification his breath caught. If it had been real, the envelope would have been torn open immediately. He could hardly believe he was seeing the correct return address. All the details sat innocently on the screen in front of him and his eyes viciously ravaged them for their content. If it hadn't been official before it was now. He was participating in the final round and then it would be decided.

He, Peter Parker, was going to Stark Towers.

What did you all think of Far From Home?

Thank you again for reading, comments, etc! :)

Let me know what you think.