Chemo left a bad taste in his mouth. Literally and figuratively. Peter hadn't experienced all of the side effects yet. Sure, he was initially nauseous and chemo made him cold, and it made his food taste weirdly like metal. But he still had his hair.

Going into cancer treatments, Peter knew that one day, his hair would be gone. It seemed inevitable at first, and he thought he had excepted the harsh reality. But the further he got into treatment, the more he hoped (and assumed) that he would be one of the few lucky ones who got to keep their hair.

But today was not the day to dwell on that particular possibility. Today, he was going back to school.

"How are you feeling?" May asked as soon as he hobbled his way into the living room on crutches. The doctor had strictly forbidden him from putting weight on his hip.

"I'm fine," Peter answered, "I'm excited to go back and I'm kind of nervous at the same time."

"Well don't worry," his aunt answered assuredly, "you'll do great! And if you need me to pick you up earlier than lunchtime, just let me know."

Peter gave her a small smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine, May."

May smiled back. "I know, I just love you, and it's my job to worry about you."

"I love you too," he called over his shoulder as he made his way out the apartment door.

Neither May nor Tony would allow Peter to take the subway back to school. He had tried to argue with them, but May pulled her 'nurse card' saying there were too many germs in the subway anyways.

So Tony arranged for Happy to drive Peter to and from school. The older man pretended to be grouchy about it, but Peter knew that deep down, Happy cared and was holding back the same mother hen tendencies that May and Tony had on full display.

So when Happy pulled up to Peter's apartment building, he made a display of looking put out as he put Peter's crutches into the trunk after Peter got into the passenger's seat.

Peter smiled to himself. A least someone was willing to treat him normally.

"Ready to go, kid?" Happy asked as soon as Peter was settled.

Peter smiled widely. Was he ever. "Yes!"

Happy smiled back and turned on a playlist of Peter's favorite songs for the rest of the drive.

—

As Happy pulled up to the doors of the school, Peter felt a knot tighten in his gut. He was suddenly nervous. He didn't really want to face his classmates and have to explain anything to them. Logically, he knew that Mr. Morita had already told them about his diagnosis, but he still wasn't looking forward to the inevitable awkwardness that he was about to step into.

"You good, bud?" Happy asked as he held out Peter's crutches outside the passenger door.

After a moment more of hesitation, Peter answered, "What? Oh yeah, I'm good," before putting on his backpack as quickly as he could and gingerly stepping out onto the curb to take his crutches.

"Hey loser!" MJ greeted as she and Ned approached.

"Hey," Peter responded, his knuckles turning white on his crutches.

MJ smiled at him and then turned around and led the way into the school building. Peter was glad she didn't make a big deal out of it. He really didn't like to be the center of attention.

"Welcome back, Peter!" Mr. Harrington exclaimed upon seeing Peter enter the building. Peter internally sighed. So much for not being the center of attention. "How are you feeling? How's everything going?" the man asked in his usual loud voice. Several passing classmates stared or gave him looks of pity, making Peter feel even more self-conscious.

"I'm doing fine," he said, struggling to keep eye contact with the man. It was just plain embarrassing to be called out for anything, especially something he couldn't control.

"We were just going to our lockers, Mr. Harrington," MJ interrupted before the teacher could say or ask anything else. The man simply didn't have very good social skills.

"Oh, of course," he replied, awkwardly stepping back, "See you in class, Peter!" he said, waving.

"Thanks," Peter whispered after they were out of earshot.

"No problem," MJ smiled.

Ned followed behind. "That was badass!" he whispered. "You just told a teacher off!"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

Peter smiled. He really did have the best friends. He crutched off to his locker as they followed along, continuing their bickering.

"Hi Parker," Peter heard a voice from behind him.

Peter sighed before responding.

"Hi Flash."

Flash looked Peter up and down. Peter did his best not to shrink under the other boy's scrutiny.

"Why did you fake having cancer, Parker? Do you really need that much attention?"

Peter rolled his eyes and turned to put his books into his locker. The other boy's comment was ridiculous.

"Like faking an internship with Tony Stark wasn't enough, you just had to get the one sickness that everyone would fawn over you just for having it?"

Peter continued stacking his books.

"Like there are people out there who have actual problems, why do you have to make them up?"

"Is everything okay over here?" Principal Morita asked from behind Peter.

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Morita, I was just helping Parker here with his books," Flash said, patting Peter on the shoulder.

"Okay," responded the principal, not looking entirely convinced. "Good to see you back, Peter," he added before distractedly rushing away to stop another few students from hanging profane signs on the wall.

"You're dead," whispered Flash before walking away.

"I hope not," Peter whispered to himself as he stood up and made his way to class.

—

In his first class, Peter noticed some differences in himself. Where before he would have found all of the material easy and would have picked it up right away, now he was having difficulty just remembering simple concepts. Everything seemed to go into one ear and straight out the other, with nothing taking residence in between.

He even found himself dozing a few times. He had only ever done that before when he had had a late night as Spider-Man.

Every time he found himself dozing off and he woke with a jolt, he expected his teacher to reprimand him. But his teachers either looked at him with sympathy or ignored the incidences completely.

He also expected the teachers to expect him to answer the questions. He was never called on or picked out of the crowd, though. Usually when he came back from an absence or woke up from dozing, they would make a point to call on him. Peter found it strange that no teacher called his name in class. They said nothing to him, except for the occasional "Welcome back" or asking how he was out of genuine care and concern for his well-being.

He began to get especially tired in Spanish class. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes open and even found himself sleeping with his head on his desk a few times.

Just after the bell released them to their next class, Ned nudged Peter.

"Dude, you okay?" he whispered.

"Huh?" Peter asked as he blinked.

"Peter, you haven't been able to stay awake for very long in any of our classes all day. I think you should call May and go home early," Ned stated, concern written all over his face.

Peter blinked heavily, ready to refute his friend. But when he stood to gather his crutches, he had to brace himself against his desk as a dizzy spell suddenly washed over him.

"Yeah, you're ready to go," MJ stated, seemingly coming out of nowhere. She had apparently been standing by the classroom door during their entire conversation.

"Guys, I'm fine," Peter said, attempting to shrug off his friends' hands as they reached out to support him.

MJ straightened to face him, hands on her hips in defiance. "Peter, you need rest. It's only one more class before you were going to go home anyway, and I don't think you can make it that long."

Peter opened his mouth to argue before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay," he whispered.

MJ nodded. "Good, because I already texted May and she's on her way."

Peter couldn't help but give a sigh of relief at that. Now that he was standing, he didn't think he had the resilience to get through one more class.

"Alright, let's get you to the office," MJ stated, handing Ned Peter's backpack and helping Peter to position his crutches under his arms.

MJ kept her hand on Peter's back as they slowly made their way to the main office, where May would pick Peter up. She didn't want him to fall again, and was prepared to help him stay up if he became unsteady on his feet.

She helped him sink into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs at the front office and sat next to him in another. Ned attempted to make himself comfortable in the chair on the other side of Peter.

The three sat for what felt like an hour and a few minutes at the same time until May suddenly burst into the room, still in her blue work scrubs.

"How are you feeling, baby?" she asked, coming to kneel on the floor in front of Peter.

He blinked up at her slowly before responding.

"Sleepy," he mumbled.

May smiled and put a hesitant hand on his cheek. Upon feeling its coolness, her body visibly relaxed.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

Peter nodded, looking up at his aunt. He didn't have enough energy to say anything.

"Thank you for taking care of him," May said to MJ and Ned after she had checked her nephew out of school and helped him to his feet.

"Of course."

"No problem."

Both friends answered at the same time. May smiled at them and helped Peter out of the building and into the car were he promptly fell asleep.

—

After a few days of going to school for half days, Peter woke up exhausted and in a lot more pain than usual. The cancer was really taking a toll on him.

Peter got out of bed with great difficulty. He was looking forward to his hip surgery, because hopefully moving wouldn't be so painful after the tumor and diseased bone were gone.

Today he hadn't wanted to get out of bed. Usually (when he wasn't sick) he sprang up and started going about his day cheerfully, but today he couldn't. The pain was making him feel depressed. What a way to start the day, he mused.

Peter slowly hobbled his way over to the bathroom with his crutches so he could use it, brush his teeth, and brush his hair.

His hair. His hair was getting too long, but he refused to cut it because he knew it was only a matter of time before he would begin to lose it.

He gently and carefully began to comb through it. As he combed, chunks of it started to fall out. He knew it. He had known in his heart that it would be today. He wished that it didn't have to happen at all. He wished he wasn't sick. He wished he didn't have to look sick, wished that if he had to be sick, no one would know about it. Now everyone would know, even strangers on the street and people from his school he'd never met before.

As he looked in the mirror, he saw his face start to crumple. He sat down heavily on the edge of the tub and let himself cry, to mourn the loss of his hair and normal life.

"Peter?" May called, "Peter you're going to be late for school!"

She knocked on the bathroom door and looked in to see her nephew crying with chunks of his hair in his hand.

"Oh, baby," she said, coming in to hug him.

"I didn't want this to happen," he told her.

"I know, honey."

"I don't want to look sick," he said, looked up at her, his eyes red from his tears.

"I know," she said, soothing him, "But this means that the chemo's doing something. That all the pain and sickness you're going through is not for nothing. That's worth something, right?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "I just don't want to look sick. I don't want everyone to stare."

"I know. Here, let me see what I can do with you hair, and if we can't hide the patchy spots, you can wear a hat to school, okay?"

"Okay," Peter answered, nodding his now-balding head.

—

Flash walked into physics class today fully expecting Parker to be the center of attention yet again. Flash rolled his eyes to himself. If he didn't know better, he'd suspect that Parker was faking his illness for attention.

He smirked a little to himself as Parker hobbled into the room. Weak as ever, Parker, he thought.

As the teacher started the lesson, Flash stared at the back of Parker's head. The other boy was wearing a hat today. More ways to fake the cancer patient. Flash rolled his eyes again. He didn't dare say any of these things out loud unless he wanted to be expelled, which he didn't. It still irked him that Parker still got all the attention and Flash didn't.

Everyone was calling Parker a superhero. Parker wasn't a superhero. Just a weird kid in Flash's class who was apparently too sick to go to school like a normal person. He didn't even have a suit. And his Stark internship- pfft- made up as an excuse to never be on time to anything.

"Flash."

Flash looked up to see most of the eyes in the room on him. His face flushed as he realized he hadn't heard the teacher's question.

"Umm, was it Niels Bohr?" he asked, hoping that his shot in the dark hit something.

"No," the teacher responded, a disappointed look on her face. "Pay attention, please Eugene. Anyone else?"

Parker raised his hand.

"Peter?"

"Was it Albert Einstein?" Parker asked, voice reserved and hesitant.

"Correct," the teacher said, "it was Albert Einstein who discovered the…."

Flash watched as Parker leaned back in his seat and grinned in triumph. He tried to contain his glare when Parker glanced his way. And he tried to contain his shock when Parker's hand that had been scratching his head under his hat came away covered in hair.

Flash tried his hardest to look away as Parker's face went red and the other boy quickly stuffed his hair-covered hand into his pocket. Flash couldn't help but stare, though.

He quickly looked away in embarrassment when Parker glanced his way and visibly shrank down into his seat.

Flash blinked in shock. He knew now that it was possible that Parker wasn't lying. Who but cancer patients have huge chunks of their hair spontaneously fall out? He bit his lip and looked down in shame. He didn't want to be nice to Parker, but the least he could do was not bug him too much while he was sick. It was the least Flash could do.

—

Tony was tinkering with his suit when Peter hobbled in the door.

"Hey kid," he said, barely looking up from his work.

"Hey." Tony heard Peter sigh.

Tony looked up. Peter looked different. Sad. Tony lowered his brow. There was something different about the kid today, but he just couldn't place it.

"You okay, kid?" Tony asked gently, standing up so he could be near the kid. "Did someone say something to you?"

Peter looked at the ground. Then he looked Tony straight in the eye.

"My hair started to come out today."

"Oh, kiddo," Tony sighed as he moved to hug Peter.

Peter eyed the floor sadly. "It's okay, I guess. It's just hair. I just wish it didn't have to happen."

Tony hugged him. "We'll get through this together, kiddo."

Peter gave a deep sigh. "I hope so."

Tony pulled back to look Peter in the eye. "You'll get through this, Peter," he said firmly, leaving no room for doubt.

Peter bit his lip and nodded hesitantly.

"If you want to shave it, I'll help you with that," Tony continued.

Peter stiffened at that before shaking his head. "I'm not ready for that."

"Are you sure? It's going to come out anyway."

Peter shook his head again, taking a deep breath. "I feel like that would be too much for me to handle right now."

"Okay," Tony responded before taking the now-crying teen into his arms again. Tony bit his lip, wanting so much to say I love you, Peter. Just four simple words that he never heard from his own father. Four simple words that he wanted to say, but was too afraid to. He didn't think Peter was ready for that. Tony knew he wasn't.

A/N: Were chapters 24 and 28 more interesting for me to write this month than chapter 16? Yes.

Did I come up with some randomly silly and stupid chapter titles for chapters that I haven't written yet? Yes.

Do I have a ten page paper that's worth over 20% of my grade that I should be writing instead of fanfiction? Yes.

Am I writing this while at work? Also yes.

….Thanks for listening to my pointless rant! Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Also, thanks for reading my story which at this point is more of a procrastination technique!