Merry Christmas
Flash spends the next month cleaning up the mess his parents left behind. He barely has the energy to even grieve them, as he reveals to Peter during one late-night FaceTime call that he’s more relieved that they’re gone than anything. As far as Peter is aware, the only lingering effects of Flash’s parents’ passing is from when the two monsters were alive. That, and the vivid nightmares in which Flash relives the event of their death.
When Flash isn’t in school, he texts Peter, ranting about social workers and funeral directors and real estate agents. It turns out that Flash is old enough to emancipate himself, so that’s what the boy does. He starts the process of selling the Thompson’s huge house, deciding that he’d rather live anywhere else than become another ghost that haunts that gigantic space. Peter is shocked but also unsurprised by how well the other boy is handling things. He’s strong, Peter knows it, but that doesn’t make any of this less impressive.
Peter, on the other hand, is handling the past month… less well. School let out for holiday break a week ago, and Peter has yet to eat more than one “meal” per day. He no longer has the comfort of a school-provided lunch, now forced to survive off of whatever he can scavenge without guilt and whatever May won’t miss.
Peter stopped going to the Whole Foods a couple of days ago after he saw a family digging through the dumpster. They need the food more than he does, so he lets them have it. He just wishes he could do more.
The effects are starting to show, Peter knows it. His wrists are so thin that the bones have started to press against his skin again, the nubs bruising at the contact. Peter can’t sit in one position for too long before his muscles start to cramp, but he can’t be in motion for longer periods of time before he feels faint. If he weren’t in the habit of lying to himself and everyone around him, he’d admit that he always feels faint. But he is, so he doesn’t.
May works every day. She and Peter rarely ever see one another anymore, Peter hiding in his room whenever she is home so she doesn't notice how frail he’s become. The layers help, Peter thinks, as he bundles up against the New York winter. He’s started wearing long-sleeved shirts under his suit, the fabric bunching uncomfortably, but it makes him feel just a bit warmer. Plus, he doesn’t want people to see how weak Spider-Man really looks. Most days, he doesn’t even want to leave his room to patrol, but he knows he can’t let the city down. Not like he let Flash down.
The worst part, though, is that Peter doesn’t hate it. He revels in the fact that he’s shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking. He takes up so little space, now, that he’s just a few steps away from completely disappearing. Sometimes, Peter daydreams about leaving.
He spends hours alone in his room, staring off into space or at his twitching hands or at his locked phone screen just imagining what it would be like to be gone. Peter doesn’t even really know what type of “gone” he is yearning for. Some days, it’s just leaving New York. It’s going somewhere that he is certain nobody knows who he is, somewhere that is so empty and barren that there’s no need for Spider-Man. He likes the empty.
Other times, he fantasizes about running away with Flash. He dreams about telling the other boy his identity, the two running off together to start anew and use Peter’s mutation for their own personal good. Peter hates how selfish he is.
In the worst times, Peter dreams of dying. Leaving, for real. For good. He imagines himself just wasting away into nothing, letting himself get smaller and smaller and smaller until he fades into thin air. He imagines taking up no space at all, becoming the space, wrapping himself around Flash and May and all of New York like some sort of protective cloak. He wishes for a break. He yearns to stop worrying, stop panicking, stop being.
---
Peter invites Flash over to his apartment on Christmas Day. May is working, as always, and Flash mentioned one too many times that he was starting to feel like a trespasser in his own near-abandoned home. Tony sent him a text earlier in the day, wishing Peter a merry Christmas and yet again inviting him over to the Tower. Peter’s heart skips more than a couple beats at the text, but he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it. May and Tony still haven’t reinstated his internship, plus he knows that Tony is just being nice. Peter responds by liking the message and tries to ignore the way it makes his throat close up and his chest ache.
Flash arrives mid-morning, holiday-themed Starbucks lattes in hand. Peter grins at the other boy, not even hiding his excitement at the fancy, calorie-packed drinks. He takes his without argument, handing Flash a bottle of water in return. As much as Flash loves coffee, he has a terrible propensity to chug the whole thing in one go and whine about his lack of a drink for the duration it takes Peter to finish his. Peter learned quickly that the best way to keep a whiney Flash occupied was to give him a water to chug before his coffee, ensuring that the sweet drink would last a bit longer.
The two boys spend the first hour or so of Flash’s visit talking, Peter telling Flash tales of his internship while Flash confides in Peter how grueling the process of living on his own has been. They sit a few inches shy of being knee-to-knee on Peter’s couch, laughing through awkward moments and sharing shy smiles the whole time. Peter splurges on a pizza at noon for the two of them to split, indulging himself in two pieces over the course of the next five hours while Flash finishes the rest of it off without noticing. Peter struggles on the second slice, feeling the grease and carbs and sauce sit heavy in his shrunken gut, but he refuses to waste the food. The two boys watch shitty Hallmark movies and make fun of the couples, stealing secret glances at one another while the other isn’t paying attention.
Throughout the course of the day, they gravitate closer together until they are pressed thigh-to-thigh and arm-to-arm. Peter can feel Flash’s body heat even through his two sweaters and Flash’s shirt, basking in his warmth and resisting the urge to crawl fully into the other boy’s lap to burrow in his comfort. Flash casually wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders after the hundredth time a shiver wracks through Peter’s body and the smaller boy can hear his heart pounding with nerves and excitement, hoping that Flash doesn’t hear it too.
After some time, Peter finally relaxes. He settles against Flash’s chest, his breathing automatically matching Flash’s own. He falls asleep midway through their next shitty movie, not even noticing until he jerks awake to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Flash gives him an apologetic look as he slides out from underneath Peter, going to answer the door. At Peter’s confused look, Flash says, “Dinner time, Sleeping Beauty. I hope you like Chinese food, cause I ordered us a shit ton.”
Peter panics a bit as Flash turns to bring in the food. Does he offer to pay for it? Can he even afford to pay for it? He spent more money than he should have on the pizza, May only left him $20 for the day and he wants to return at least $5 to her. It’s the least he can do.
When Flash returns, he must see how Peter is spiraling, because he says, “No worries, Parker, I got this. You got us lunch, so… Plus, I’ve got more money from Dear Old Dad than I know what to do with.” Peter nods, guilt settling in his stomach as he sees the sheer amount of food that Flash ordered them. His heart aches as he hears a hint of Tony in Flash’s words, shoving it aside to focus back on Flash.
He soon forgets his guilt as Flash devours more than his fair share of food and doesn’t spare Peter a second glance when the smaller boy reaches for a dish. They brush hands over the last eggroll, Peter immediately drawing his hand back so Flash can take it. Flash just laughs and says, “Take it, Shrimp, you need it more than I do,” before good-naturedly poking Peter in the ribs. Peter thanks the universe that he wore two sweaters, so Flash’s finger has something other than bone to press into. He giggles at the touch, Flash’s face lighting up as Peter grabs the eggroll and settles back against him on the couch. It’s… nice. Comfortable.
As he’s falling asleep last night, long past the time when Flash has left, Peter wonders when the other boy started to feel like home.