Hi friends! Hope you are doing well.
Buckle in for some angst!
The door slammed.
Peter pressed his back into the wood. His hands clenched at his sides and over his harsh breathing he could hear May pacing from the other side. Her steps were heavy; caught up in her emotion.
"Peter?" She called through the wood. "Peter? Sweetheart, would you please talk to me?"
He peeled himself from the door and tiptoed to his bed. The springs groaned under his weight but nothing emanated from his mouth. The shrill tone in her voice, the desperation, made Peter flinched.
"You've got to stop doing this to yourself. Two jobs? Why didn't you tell me about the one in the city? It's such a long way to go after school and then I get this call from Mr. Morita. Falling asleep for the fourth time this week?"
She paused for a moment and he could see her shadows from under the door. The way she would back away with hesitation but move forward again to try and talk some sense into him.
"Sweetheart, I'm here for you. If you need to talk, whatever it is about I'm here, but something has to give. I need you to work with me."
Peter turned away from the door and pulled the covers over his head. She knocked on the door but all Peter did was huddle deeper under the covers.
Under the darkness he was a child again waking up in the hospital. This time when he rounded the corner and spotted May, instead of running toward her, he began running back to the empty room. The dark space welcomed him but once he was inside the door swung shut. He could see May's shadow but bars sprouted along the door barring her outside.
He was alone and it was all his fault. He was the one who ran away. He created that distance.
Peter opened his eyes and breathed out when he saw May's shadow remaining under the door. Maybe she wouldn't give up. Maybe the others wouldn't give up.
Mr. Stark did.
He whimpered into the pillow, breathing shallow at the voice winding through his head.
"Sweetheart, I know the school year is over and that you were looking forward to the summer. Well, to you know, but I promise it will be okay. I love you."
He imagined her standing there with one hand spread on the door and the other on her heart, like she was trying to radiate her love through any barriers in the way.
Peter heard her sigh and walk away. The door to her room closed extinguishing the light under his door.
It wasn't like he meant to fall asleep. One-minute Mrs. Brzozowski was lecturing about the importance of close reading and the next, the bell was ringing and the classroom was empty. Mrs. Brzozowski's expression was enough to send him on his way. Looking back on it now he should have known she informed a higher authority about his repeat nap.
It was strange, though. At the time he couldn't catch his breath. Alone in the hallway, the weight of his teacher's stare lingering on his back, Peter stumbled into the restroom. The stall walls closed in against his body. But now Peter was floating.
After Oscorp his weightlessness came at a price of bloody apparitions and curled smiles. This sensation was so much better. He wasn't anxious, or scared, or happy. Peter was just there in his room, and even then, he wasn't sure if he was actually there anymore. Could he be if he couldn't feel the very rise and fall of his chest?
He gasped, lungs heaving. His hands clenched in his hair. He became aware of the bed underneath him, how the springs coiled with the movement of his body. Peter opened his eyes, looked at the ceiling, and counted the perforations in the paint. Gravity, gone only moments before, raged its full influence on him. Kicking the covers off, Peter panted at the influx of sensations; the weight pressing him into the ground.
His phone buzzed and he turned over to read it. Hands shaking, he picked up the phone. Julia was worried about all the paperwork due for their presentation in two weeks. She wanted to go over their plan again.
He turned it over without a reply.
The message deserved an answer. The whole team had been more understanding than he deserved. Julia suggested he go to work at the library when they scheduled their next meeting. Frank and Monica gave each other a glance at their assumption of going to the Tower but Julia stepped forward and said he should email his work in for the project. Their questions brimmed just under the surface but his whole team agreed with ready ease.
Soon enough it would all be over and he would be free for the summer.
Peter shivered at the thought.
May's door closed. He threw the covers back and got up. Clothes already on, Peter stuck his head into the dark hallway, grabbed his keys, and headed outside.
Blocks went by. He walked passed closed stores and restaurants, people waiting for buses, and parking lots empty of patrons.
Peter paid no attention to any of the other people walking on the sidewalk or to where he was going. All he knew was the space he'd been in before hadn't been good. It was too far away from reality. He wasn't Peter anymore. All he knew was he didn't like the emptiness, not when his chest was so full of happiness and people recently.
The emptiness lingered on but if he walked faster maybe he could outrun it.
His footsteps echoed down the sidewalks. Arms flailing to catch up with his pace but he didn't stop until his lungs burned. He braced his hands on his thighs and squatted down to catch his breath.
Light blinking on and off caught his eye. An old retail store, closed sign bright in neon, stood in front of him. The display windows were full of all different sized TVs.
The face of Tony Stark was plastered onto each one.
The man's sunglasses were perched on the tip of his nose and with a smile he pushed them back onto his face. Mr. Stark walked head up through the media following him. They surrounded his person, pushing and yelling, but he never dropped the smile painted onto his face. It was the same expression he wore walking down the hallways of the Tower, the same one Peter had seen him use whenever he was on the news growing up.
It was that smile Peter's heart clenched at because he knew it wasn't real. He'd seen Tony Stark's real happiness, the way his eyes crinkled around the edges and lips opened an inch as he sighed before he laughed. The face identical on each TV in the display was a performance and nothing else.
The only question was if his other smile was a performance as well.
Peter watched as he walked up to a clean, grey governmental-type building. Captain America came, followed by a man with grey hair and a mustache. They shook hands with Mr. Stark, positioning themselves in view of the cameras. With a wave all three, plus a line of security guards, went inside and were gone from their sight.
The ground rose up and slammed into his knees. The cameras were pointed at the gathered crowd around the building, all vying for a peak at the famous superheroes.
"Are you okay?" A woman with thick rimmed glasses stood beside him. She extended her hand forward and Peter got to his feet. He shuffled beside her watching as she searched through her bag. She muttered a small noise at finding her prize and pulled out a travel case of tissues.
"Here you go sweetie." She said.
Peter realized he was crying and hastily pulled out a tissue, dabbing his face before blowing his nose. A flush spread across his cheeks at the noise he was creating. He shoved the soiled material into his pocket with a thank you and his eyes turned back to the screen which was playing Mr. Starks entrance again.
"That is an unhappy man." She said. The words hung stiff and heavy on the night air. Peter examined the images again thinking about her comment.
Flashes of other press appearances or banquets played onscreen. Mr. Stark wore tuxedos and other expensive clothing Peter had never seen the man in before. His goatee was much the same with its original shape and crisp lines, but it was his eyes Peter focused on; How dark they were underneath and his posture was ridged under the harsh lights.
"Must be the camera angle." He said and handed her back the pack of tissues.
"Now that might be, but if anyone has a reason to be upset it's him."
The back of his neck pricked at her statement. It was absurd. What did Tony Stark have to be upset about? The wealthiest man in New York, unhappy; and Peter could fly.
"And why is that?" His voice was sharp but she just tutted and pointed his gaze back to the screens.
"Who do you see up there?" She said like the answer wasn't obvious.
Peter stared at the perfectly tousled brown hair and oversized sunglasses. It was a combination of all those things: the hair gel, formal outfit, and cocky smile that Peter answered without thought.
"Iron Man."
"Ah." She said and her smiled dropped. "That's why."
"He is Iron Man." Peter said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and the lady chuckled. She patted his arm and handed him another tissue before stepping back.
"Yes, of course he is young man, but is that all he is?"
She began walking away, leaving Peter alone and more confused than ever.
"I said no whip on this."
The blonde standing in front of the counter muttered the complaint without looking up from his phone. Peter checked the order he'd scribbled down and realized his mistake.
"I'm sorry, Sir. Let me fix that."
Cindy shook her head at him from the doorway. He ducked his head so that his visor would conceal the flush working its way up his neck. It wasn't the first time tonight he'd made an order wrong and the line forming behind the counter was proof enough of his influence.
"Come on, Peter." He mumbled under his breath.
The blonde took the fixed drink without a word and Peter raced back to the register.
"Hello and welcome to The Bitter End. What can I make you today?"
"Hi, Peter." A small voice said. Julia fidgeted with her jacket buttons but fixed him a smile.
"Uh, Julia?" he said.
"Do you have time to talk?"
He nodded assessing the line behind her.
"My shift ends at eleven. We can do it another time if that's…"
"No, I'll wait." She said and added "I'll have a small hot chocolate, please."
The rest of his shift went by even slower. Peter confused two more orders. Cindy yelled at him properly by the third and by the time he slid into the booth across from Julia he was ready to fall asleep.
"You look awful." She said with an imperceptible smile.
"Thank you. This is a looked I call uniform chic."
Julia giggled. He set a cup down on the table and pushed it to her side.
"You didn't have to." He shrugged. "Well, thank you." She said after taking a sip of the new cup of hot chocolate.
"How are you feeling about the presentation? I know Monica will be the one giving it but it will be, you know, there. We've all put in the work. It should be fine but I'm worried about how professional our prototype will be since we've rushed through it all and then there will be the question time after the presentations. I know Monica will do fine but it's so nerve wracking."
He shrugged again and Julia leaned across the table. She rested her hands on his fidgeting ones on the table.
"Peter, please." She said, eyes beseeching him. "Please, talk to us. We're all worried about you."
"I'm fine. Really," He added at her raised eyebrows.
"You know Alex hates me." Her eyes wandered away from him onto the different paintings hanging on the walls.
"I'm sure he…"
"Doesn't? Yeah, well, he cries not only when I hold him but when I enter the room. I honestly don't know what to do anymore. It's gotten so bad dad will get up with Al when I walk in. Sometimes I'll sit outside on the porch so I don't have to make them move somewhere else." Her hands trembled on his and he flipped his over. They clung to each other as Julia confided in him.
"I'm sorry."
"It's lonely, Peter. I hate the feeling of having nowhere to go. I'm a stranger in my own home. I don't remember mom much but I remember her always saying how lucky she was to adopt me. I thought I would feel the same with Alex, but instead all I feel is this guilt for pushing him away."
It was too close and Peter swallowed.
"Don't push him away." Peter said. He wasn't sure if he was talking about himself or her little brother anymore. "You push your way into his life. Feed him your homemade snacks and hold him whenever he cries. I promise he will love you. You're sucks a good friend. I know you will be an amazing sister."
Her cheeks flushed bright and she squeezed his hand. Plans of baby domination glinted through her eyes and the expression made him smile. He wished he could be that type of person. Someone who could waltz into another's life like they were meant to be there. Someone who wouldn't give up when there were obstacles barring every passage forward.
"Thank you, Peter. I won't give up on him yet."
Little did he know the extent to which she took his words to heart. A week of working mornings and nights, of school assignments and last-minute homework on the subway, and of after school library trips wishing he was in another building forty floors higher Peter was running on empty.
His life outside of everything was quiet. Almost too quiet. His phone now kept on after May forced him to promise to keep it on after not answering for six hours while at work, was dark most of the time. The group chat was silent and there were no more workplace visits.
He should have known it was too good to be true.
Peter trudged up the steps to his apartment. He shucked off his shoes and stopped when he heard voices from the other room. Like something out of one of his more pedantic dreams, he was met with the faces of Julia and Flash.
"Surprise." Flash said from where he was standing in the corner, ready with a sarcastic smile.
"Why are you guys here?"
"What a warm welcome." Flash said but stopped snickering with a look from Julia.
"Frank and Monica couldn't make it but they stand with us spiritually."
"And where are you standing?"
"Please, don't be upset but we've been doing some digging and wanted to present this as a united front. We didn't want you to think we were abandoning you."
Julia went to her backpack and pulled up a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the crisp lines and held it in front of both of them so Peter could see it in all its PowerPoint-like organized glory. On it was tapped, penciled, and highlighted events and information leading up to and including the changing of hands of his Weaver serum.
She launched into a full-scale presentation about what happened and how it came about, but he wasn't listening. His eyes were glued to the poster board. Somehow, they'd got a hold of a picture of the rabbit. Maybe it was a generic photo, but Peter couldn't help but think about what was on the other side of its white fur. He couldn't help but see the blood dripping down the poster board, infecting all of their pristine bullet points.
Why couldn't everyone forget about it?
He had his new life and they were insisting on bringing this up.
Even Flash was chiming in with bits he heard from his dad at Oscorp.
"Stop." He whispered. They didn't hear. They kept going.
"Stop!" He yelled and stood up. "Please, stop. I can't deal with this right now or ever. Why can't we forget about it? Hmm? It's not a big deal. We'll just leave it be okay. Mr. Stark said he knew so it's all good. Everything is taken care of. Why are you even here? I feel like I'm in the middle of an intervention."
They glanced at each other.
"It is, isn't it? You think I'm some sort of freak?"
Sam Carlson's face swam across his vision. The flush of not belonging. Mr. Stark's back turned away.
I can't work on the project anymore.
"Of course not." Julia said.
"Well, I am. Can you please leave? I want to be alone." His voice broke at the last word.
"Come on, man. Be reasonable."
"You too, Flash."
"We're not leaving." They said and remained in their spots.
Peter melted into the couch again.
"Please."
"Peter, what happened wasn't normal and I think Julia's right. We need to discuss it or something. It can't just fade into the background."
"You want me to discuss it? You want me to say how scared I was, how helpless I felt watching what I worked on, be used to th- that way. And Mr. Stark knew about it. He said they have an understanding with Oscorp. An understanding. And I knew it was all going to crumble anyway. Ben died and it's the only reason I made the fucking serum in the first place. I had to make up for Ben and Mr. Stark saw that desperation, didn't he? He must have because I can't go there." Peter collapsed back and balled his hands into his eye sockets. "The one safe place. It's gone and I'm alone again."
Julia moved as if he was a cornered animal. Her arms stretched out in front of her and she sat beside him, scooching closer when he didn't stop her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Flash sat on his other side and placed a light hand on his knee.
His cries were muffled into a pillow and although his two friends sat on either side of him. Their warm touch quieted the anguish ripping through his chest but he'd never felt more alone.
"You're not alone, Peter. We're going to get through this."
He was the wounded rabbit. Vulnerability on show for everyone and despite the serum's promise, despite their kind words Peter kept bleeding out.
*Hugs all around*
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