The streetlights from the window just barely illuminate the room enough to see the outline of a boy standing hunched over the sink. There he stood, trying his very best to wash the blood out of his hoodie. A tear rolled down his cheek, it was visible with the shimmer of light that came in, right before he wiped it away with his shoulder. The shirt was already damp with the previous tears he had wiped away, trying to keep it together. He took a deep breath. In, and Out. A last-ditch effort to not start sobbing uncontrollably.
The blood wasn't coming out anymore. The red-tinted water that had come out before, had turned a lighter and lighter pink until it almost completely faded. He doubted it ever would fully come out, this is the best he could do, given the circumstances. He should have just thrown it away instead of trying to salvage something that was already gone. All it was, was a half-assed attempt at trying to keep something that was actually his. Something that held a good memory instead of only bad ones.
He should have known better. He didn't have any laundry detergent, or any money for a laundry machine anyway. A sink in a dirty public bathroom isn't going to do any good.
The hoodie had already lost the familiar scent of home. All it still held were memories. Now even those are gone. The bloodied and soaked clump of clothes didn't hold any resemblance to the comfortable and way too big hoody his aunt had always worn on the lazy sweatpants days. Or to the same hoody his uncle had worn when he got home from work and wanted to wear something other than his work uniform.
The faded community college logo was still visible. A painful reminder of everybody he lost. But other than that it would not feel like the same hoodie anymore. Would he have to throw it away? Because for all the pain that it caused him, it also brought him the comfort of knowing that he had, once, been loved. Even if it was naive to think it would ever happen again.
But the hoodie wasn't the only thing to worry about right now, only a distraction from the more pressing matters. The fact that he didn't have anything to keep him warm anymore, was only the beginning. He would also need somewhere to stay tonight, he surely wouldn't survive another night out on the streets. Now without even a hoodie to shield him from the biting cold.
A knock at the door startled Peter out of his rambling thoughts. He had already been in here far too long.
"HEY! Kid!" A voice yelled.
"Yeah?" Peter croaked.
"Come out, we're closing up."
"Sorry, yeah, sorry, I'm coming"
Scrambling to get out, Peter picked up his hoodie, trying to wring as much water out of it as possible before slinging his backpack with his other, dry, clothes over his shoulder and opting to just carry the still-wet hoody in his arms.
He cast one last look over his shoulder, in the mirror. Just to check that in the haste to wash the blood off his hoodie, he hadn't forgotten to also wash the blood off his face. It always surprised him how much blood could come from one broken nose. Even with accelerated healing. Luckily the blood was mostly gone, just some vague smears remained.
He opened the door to see the bearded guard he had spoken to earlier when he had asked to use the bathroom. The man stood with his hands on his hips, looking disapprovingly at Peter.
"When you ran in here with a busted nose, I thought, why not help the kid out. You know, what could it hurt?" The man paused.
Peter opened his mouth to respond, thinking it must have been an actual question, not just a hypothetical one. Before he could, the guard went on, "But I didn't think you would be in there for half an hour and I would have to drag you out to be able to close up." He sighed. "Honestly kid."
"Right, yeah, sorry, um, I just, um" Peter was looking at the ground, sad to disappoint somebody who only tried to help him.
The guard sighed again, it must have been a long night for him too"Alright, alright kid, take a breath. How's your nose?
"Oh, uhm, it's fine, just a nosebleed."
"Uhuh, sure," he said skeptically "well if you say so… Anyway, just go home okay? Don't want you wandering around at night. Your parents are going to be worried."
Peter didn't even bash an eye at the mention of parents, and the fact that he should have some, he was too used to it by now. He didn't even bother to correct the man "Yes, sir, thank you"
The guard let out an affirming grunt as he turned away from him and walked around the corner and out of sight. Off to do his rounds. And Peter was alone once again.
He was shivering, the wetness of his hoodie had seeped through his long-sleeved t-shirt and it wasn't exactly warm in here, just like every other old building without proper insulation. He made his way out of the library and onto the street. He needed a place to stay. He needed somewhere out of the cold nights of the early new york spring. If you can even call March spring, it should just be called second winter if you asked him.
Last year it had even snowed in March, he remembered looking out the window at school and just seeing the snowflakes slowly fall down, but melt the second they hit the ground. Some of the snow had stayed though, on some trash bins and on top of windowsills, he had been able to make exactly one good snowball and proceeded to miss when he tried to hit Ned with it. You would think that being Spider-Man would help in a snowball fight, but apparently not.
There was no snow this year, luckily, but sadly there was also no happiness and no laughter. Thinking of happy memories was nice while it lasted, but after they were gone, the emptiness felt a hundred times worse.
Right now, he needed a home. While that wasn't an option, he might have somewhere he could crash for the night.
He tried to go there as little as possible, not wanting to be caught. But over the course of these few weeks, he had been living on the streets, he had felt the need to go somewhere with a roof above his head at night more and more.
He started to walk, too exhausted to run or jog, even though that might warm him up a bit. The exhaustion was just a side effect of living on the streets, caused by sleeping too little and eating barely anything at all. The walk didn't take long, just long enough for him to be completely frozen to the bone by the time he arrived.
He looked up at the school where he once was at home. He shouldn't have to break into his own school just to get some rest. But he knew how to get in, what window was partly broken so that he could easily pry it open. And knew that this was the only place he could take a shower even if it was in the locker rooms. That did not only smell like sweat, but also had a bit of a moldy smell mixed in there. That being said, it was not such a hard thing to decide.
"Shit" Peter whispered as he tried to open the window. He [gluurde] trough and could just make out a glimpse; a new lock. There was a new lock installed on the window. No way to get in. Nowhere to sleep tonight. No shower either.
He resisted the urge to sit down in defeat. If he sat down now, he would surely freeze to death. Even though all the snow had melted, he knew that sitting trying to sleep would only make his trembling body even colder. So against his own body's wishes to just sleep, he started walking again. Even slower than the way here, all the motivation he had was pushed into "just keep walking".
Where would he even go? If you're walking you need a destination right? That's how walking works? He's pretty sure. Okay. A destination. Somewhere warm. Central park maybe? The memories of sitting on the grass with Aunt May in the warm summer sun, eating sandwiches on top of his mind. That's good, it's warm and there's no lock, you can just walk there. Maybe that would be good? All he needed to do to get there was to just keep walking
Wasn't that a song? Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking. No, that doesn't sound good, that's not right. Maybe it was something else? Just keep running? Nope. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming. Yea, that's right. Let's just keep swimming.
What? He wasn't even swimming? Why would he need to just keep swimming? That makes no sense at all.
His feet caught on something, a loose brick maybe. His hands stretched out to catch himself on the rough bricks, but it wasn't enough to keep him from slamming face-first into the sidewalk below him.
"Crap" He hissed. As he began to register where he was hurt. Knees, skimmed, hopefully, no blood. Hands. The same as the knees, shit. Head, ouch.
He really didn't need this today. Just another thing to add to the pile of shit he was dealt. He sat up, clutching his hoodie to his chest, and tried to catch his breath while leaning against a building.
But the tears started rolling down his cheeks once again and once they started, he couldn't seem to stop them. He tried to smear the tears away with the palms of his hand but let out a sob when that only made his hands sting more, and made his tears start flowing even more freely.
So there he sat, trembling now not only from the cold but also from his exhaustion and just his general state of being. Feeling sorry for himself, he curled into a ball and hid his face in his arms. Honestly, he had plenty to feel sorry for himself for. His life was never going to be the same again. May was gone. His best friends in the whole world don't remember him even existing. He was kicked out of his apartment after only two months because he couldn't pay the rent and now he couldn't even scrounge up enough money to buy enough food to keep up with his metabolism. Making him feel weak and constantly exhausted.
He had tried to help people again, like May would have wanted. And got punched in the face today for his efforts. He wouldn't be able to dodge without giving away his powers, being out of his spider-suit and all. But he couldn't have dodged even if he wanted to; no Peter tinkle for Peter anymore. Not being able to eat enough was really kicking his butt.
Now that he was sitting here, it wasn't actually that cold. He would be fine right? If he just kept sitting here a bit longer? Not the entire night of course, but just a while to get enough willpower to stand again.
He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew it was light and there were all kinds of people walking around him. Not even glancing his way. He was frozen, now that he was awake he could actually register the cold. He didn't feel his toes or his but anymore, that's not good. He then saw what must've woken him up, or more like who. A man with a cane had bumped up to him, stopping when his cane hit Peter.
Peter sprung up if you can even call it that with the stiffness of his muscles, not wanting to hinder a blind man "Sorry sir, really sorry"
"Uh, no problem kid," the guy said with a frown on his face. He was wearing a suit, and even though Peter didn't know anything about that sort of thing, it looked expensive.
"are you okay?" The man said.
Peter was just about to walk away but stopped at the question "Huh? Oh yea I'm fine"
"Okay, cause you were kinda sitting on the sidewalk, that can't be comfortable"
"No, it's nothing, I just fell, it's fine"
"Alright, if you say so" the man hesitated for another moment before smoothly sidestepping and that's when it clicked for Peter: I know this guy.
"Mr. Murdock?" It just slipped out. He hadn't meant to. Shit. Oh no. He has no way to explain except for the truth.
Mr. Murdock stopped dead in his tracks. "Sorry, do I know you?"
"Uh, no sir, I - um don't think so?" Peter stuttered "Uhm, anyway, I have to go. Bye," He all but sprinted out of there. His exhaustion kept him from actually going fast, but he tried his best. Leaving Mr. Murdock standing there, extremely confused.
After standing there, dazed for a moment, Matt continued making his way to work. He had no business following this boy, he told himself. Even though everything about him made alarm bells ring in his head. Everything from the fact he smelled like he hadn't had a shower in ages, to the rumble he had in his stomach. And the low body temperature. It all pointed to just another too-young person living on the streets of new-york. But something didn't add up, something other than the general horrible stuff that came with being a homeless teenager. Matt just couldn't put his finger on it.
All the while, Peter had just found another spot on the sidewalk to sit. He had walked a lot further than he intended to in his frozen state. But he just needed to sit down, just for a second, this time voluntarily. He was just settled in the sun, with his eyes closed, trying to soak up some of the sun's heat. His hoody spread out next to him to dry, when some businesswoman dropped a dollar bill in his lap, he could just see her back disappear in the crowd as he realized what had happened.
She must have thought he was homeless, which he was, but that's not the point. He wasn't begging for money. He instantly felt that familiar gnawing feeling in his stomach, guilt. He didn't deserve this money, there were lots of people that needed money more than he did. There was no way he could ever repay this.
He was supposed to be helping people. He had the responsibility. People shouldn't help him. That only got them killed.
He was useless. Everything he did backfired. Every time he tried to do good, people died. Every time, his life got shittier. Every time all he had left was the guilt of the people he didn't save on his conscience.
But he couldn't stop. He couldn't believe that aunt May died for nothing. Aunt May died believing in him. She wants him to continue to help people, even if he might not like it. He has got the responsibility.
So he stood up, with some hope that he could find the lady and give her her dollar back. Stuffed his kind of dry hoody in his backpack, but after 15 minutes, he gave up. This city is too big. She could be anywhere. And he didn't have the energy to walk or care that much anymore. Maybe he should just try to get something to eat if that was even possible with the New York prices. It couldn't hurt to try.
And so another day passes. Another shitty day, full of knawing hunger that felt like it could never be fully satisfied. One slice of pizza was not nearly enough. It did taste heavenly.
When dusk fell, a familiar voice shouted from behind Peter. "Hey, kid!"
He spun around and saw the same dude who had punched him in the face last night. This time he had switched it up a bit, he wasn't wairing a black tracksuit, but a dark blue one, very daring.
His body filled with dread. And he tried to walk away, the sensible thing to do. But before he could, Tracksuit hauled him back by pulling the back of his shirt, constricting Peter's airway in the process.
"Uh, hey man, wha-what's up?" Peter answered with a trembling voice.
"What's up? What's up?!" The Tracksuit spat, "That's what you gonna say after what you did? You little cunt"
"I'm sorry sir" Peter stuttered, "I think there must've been a misunderstanding"
"Oh, so you're calling me a liar now too huh? I'm not gonna let you get away this time" Tracksuit grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him up, eye to eye. "You shouldn't be messing with me? You hear me kid?"
Peter nodded weakly, not struggling and hoping against his better judgment that the man would just let him go.
"What I do is my business alright? And no bitch ass kid is going to stop me from doing what I want" the man spit in his face.
Peter remembered he did the same thing to the girl last night, when she told the man to back off "Mfgh" Peter mumbled, trying to summon some of his strength.
"What's that?"
"You know, I really don't like you" Peter bit out before kicking the man in the stomach with his knee. He hoped that that would loosen the man's grip so he could make a run for it.
Tracksuit put him down, a bit startled. But it didn't really help since he still had a firm grip on Peter's shirt. The only actual difference it made was that he was even more furious now. If people could breathe fire, Peter would have already gone up in flames.
"You've really got it comin for you, you little shit" He all but yelled as he punched Peter in the face with his free hand. Peter was hit square in the nose, again, by the same dude, two days in a row. That really sucks. He heard the bone crunch, great, more blood.
Peter stumbled back from the force of the hit and the man let him. Peter was hit by a right hook almost instantly after. He had not let him recover for a moment, like yesterday when managed to run away after the first punch.
Peter hit the ground. Falling onto his side, groaning. Something inside him screamed to get up, but he just couldn't. There was no way. A boot started hitting his stomach. At first only a few, but after a while, it felt like there was a whole group of people, the kicks all blending into one another. All kicking him, never seeming to stop.
Why didn't he just pass out? That would be so much easier.
When all at once they stopped. Or they didn't and he just didn't feel them anymore. Huh, maybe he did pass out. Either way, this was okay. He was so tired. Oh, would you look at that? He was lying down already, how lucky! If he could just close his eyes for one moment…
It was the same kid, Matt was sure of it. He had heard the young voice from miles away. But he was too late. The boy was already on the ground, barely conscious when Matt could tear the other man off of him.
The man's heart rate accelerated, clearly not expecting somebody to be in this part of town. What was the kid doing in this part of town anyway? No time now, the attacker's heart sped up even more when he realized who he was dealing with, Daredevil has that effect on people. Matt punched the man in the face "Get out of my city, and don't come here ever again or I swear to god."
The man stumbled, turned, and ran. Swearing under his breath on his way. Matt would find him later. Right now, he had to make sure that the kid that was lying unconscious on the sidewalk didn't have any brain damage or anything.
He knelt down next to the boy who was curled into a ball and gently shook his shoulder to try and wake him up.
"Hey, Kid" No reaction, Matt was debating on what to do. The obvious thing would be to call an ambulance, but just like that morning, something just didn't sit right with him.
Matt shook his shoulder again, and this time he did get a reaction but it wasn't what he was expecting.
The kids' eyes shot open in obvious panic "wha-what's happening?"
"You've been hurt, you're going to be okay, I'm going to bring you to a hospital"
"No!" the kid said while trying to sit up, clearly trying to hide his pain "No, please don't. No hospitals"
"Alright, alright, calm down, you're only going to hurt yourself more"
"So you won't take me to a hospital?"
Oh, fuck it, "No, I won't. I promise"
"Okay, okay," the boy said, all his panic slowly draining out of him. He laid his head back down on the pavement, clearly exhausted "Thanks Mr. Daredevil"
"Yeah, yeah, no problem kid" Matt sighed with a faint smile on his lips. He pulled out his burner, pushed the speed dial, and handed the phone to the kid, who took it without a comment "I'm going to carry you okay? Better not to jostle those ribs"
"Mhm, alright" The kid was super out of it, he probably would have wanted to object if he wasn't. Teenagers usually did.
Okay," Matt slipped his arms under the boy's head and knees, carrying him like a baby "on the count of three. One. Two. Three"
He lifted the boy off the ground with too much ease and began walking. One foot in front over the other, on his way to Claire's apartment. If he had been able to parkour it would be faster. But that's not really possible while carrying a whole ass kid.
But he did have to call her to tell her he's coming.
"Matt?" Claire's voice came from the phone. Peter's heart jumped, clearly surprised to know Daredevil's name.
"Yeah, hey. I'm coming to you now."
"Okay" Claire's voice sounded tired but resigned. Like she wanted to object but had learned through experience that it wouldn't help anyway "anything I should prepare?"
"Uhm, it's just a couple of broken ribs, a broken nose, possible concussion, and pretty bad bruising. Nothing too bad but I want him checked out"
"Him? Why aren't you taking him to, you know? A hospital?"
"No hospitals," Peter croaked.
"You heard the kid, no hospitals. Alright, we'll be there in five, bye."
He hung up before the woman on the phone could protest.
A short while later, after Claire had ushered them through the door, Matt carefully laid the kid on the same couch that he himself had occupied so many times before.
Claire gently shoved Matt away and knelt next to the couch, leaning in to look at his nose "Okay, so, what's your name kid?" she said as she reached out to prod the skin around his nose.
"Uhm," Contemplating for a moment about whether or not it would be a good idea to tell a stranger his name "Peter" it didn't matter anyway, nobody knows him.
"Last name?"
"Parker, Peter Parker"
"Nice to meet you Peter" She was now feeling around under his head for any blood "let me know if it hurts okay?"
"Mhm"
She went on to feel his ribs, Peter only letting out a small hiss a couple of times. Then she shone a light in his eyes and did some other medical tests Peter didn't quite understand. All while daredevil, or should he say, Matt, was standing in the corner, just staring at them.
"How is he?" Daredevil asked. It feels weird to call him Matt, Daredevil is way too scary to have a normal ass name like 'Matt".
"Uhm, he," The woman said before turning to him "you, are fine. You've got a mild concussion, a broken nose which, thank god, doesn't need to be set. Probable broken ribs but there is no way to tell without an x-ray"
"They're hairline fractures," Matt said, "nothing to be worried about."
The woman looked at him indignantly "So creepy, every time. Anyways, you should just take it easy for the next couple of weeks"
"So that means no sleeping on the streets," Matt said with a pointed look "Have you got anywhere to stay tonight"
"Uhm, sure, I could stay at a friend's house" he lied easily
"I know you're lying," Daredevil said "I just don't understand why"
"It's just uh, just uh," Peter tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing came "no, I don't have anywhere to stay"
"Okay, you can stay with me"
"What?"
"You heard me"
"Yeah but?" Peter said, hoping that his intense confusion could be sensed by the vigilante.
"No buts," Daredevil said in a final tone
"But really," Peter all but whined "I don't want to be a bother"
"It's no bother, I offered." Daredevil sounded exasperated but somehow also patient.
When Peter stayed silent, Matt counted it as a win. Even though he could hear that Peter still had some objections about the whole thing.
"Can you walk?" He asked, but thought better of it and turned to Claire. "Can he walk?"
"Yeah," Peter said when at the same time Claire answered "If he thinks he can"
"It should already be healing anyway," Peter added. Damn, that's not a normal thing to say when somebody doesn't know about his spider-thing.
The doctor woman narrowed her eyes, confused about the comment. But thankfully stayed silent.
"Alright then, that's decided," Daredevil said in a slightly too happy voice, even weirder when you realize that Daredevil is famous for never smiling "we're taking a cab. Not walking all the way with you in this condition." he paused, clearly realizing he was still in his daredevil suit.
"Claire, do you have something I can borrow?"
"Yeah, uh, Luke probably left some sweats lying around somewhere"
The doctor woman, no, Claire, walked into the bedroom, Matt trailing behind her. They left Peter lying on the couch. But just when Peter was doing his best to sit up without straining his ribs, Claire walked back in.
"Here, let me help" She reached out and skillfully helped him sit up. A couple of seconds later, just as he was trying to get the courage to try to stand, no one other than Mr Murdock walked through the door Daredevil had just gone into.
Matt could hear the boy's heart speed up at the recognition
"What the…"
"Hi, Peter"
"But you, you're Mr. Murdock," Peter said and added a small 'what the fuck' under his breath.
"That I am"
"Wait, you know him?" Claire asked Peter.
"He was my lawyer," Peter said offhandedly while staring in awe at the man he now knew to be, the, actual, Daredevil, that's sooo cool! He, just plain old Peter Parker is one of the few people to know Daredevil's identity! Ohhhh the brick! "This actually makes so much sense!"
"That, right there, we need to talk about" Matt interjected "I have never met you before, and I was definitely not your lawyer, how can it make sense?"
It took Peter a moment to understand but then the smile fell off his face "Oh, right…" but added a confused "I thought you were blind?"
"That I am." he inhaled, trying to get this over with "Let's talk about this later, kid, you ready to go?"
"Ya, uhm," He let out a small cough "yes sir"
The ride to Matt's apartment was awkward, to say the least. The nerves practically radiated off of Peter, buzzing about the fact that he just learned the identity of one of new yorks "famous vigilantes". He could hear the boy's breathing speeding up every time he thought of yet another question that needed to wait until they were out of the cab.
But while Peter was buzzing with excitement, Matt was just confused. Really confused. He didn't know this kid. He just met him today. Already a whole lot of things were not adding up. And that wasn't even including the fact that he found the kid on the street and lying about having a place to stay.