four
Peter wakes the next morning and immediately scratches at the nearly healed cuts on his arm. They'd scabbed up over night and would likely be gone by the time the day was over.
Turning and wiping at his eyes to rid them of crud, he squints at his alarm clock to see he has literally three minutes before it goes off, and he groans. He's like ten kinds of tired, and barely getting any sleep is not helping his case at all.
When it finally does go off, he glares at it for a solid ten seconds before he turns it off. He listens for a moment and doesn't hear May calling for him, so she's likely at work. Crawling out of bed and not bothering to change from the clothes he'd been wearing all weekend, Peter shuffles out into the kitchen and his eyes immediately find a bright yellow sticky note on the counter.
Had to go into work early, sorry baby! Tina's sick :(. Have a great day at school!
He recognizes Tina as the name of one of his aunt's coworker's that she'd spoken about before. Peter wants so badly to just go back to bed, but he knows May would get a call, he knows he'd be behind and people would worry and May would be mad, so he grabs his bag, puts his shoes on, and leaves.
When he finally gets to school, students are everywhere, going inside and out, and the overwhelming noise makes him want to squeeze his hands over his ears so hard he goes deaf. He passes Flash and his friends without any comments, which he's incredibly thankful for, but when he gets inside, he doesn't spot Ned at their lockers and he tries to discreetly look around for him, to no avail.
When he finally makes it over there with no sign of his best friend, his hands begin to shake at the thought of being alone all day, and he's just putting his bag in his locker when MJ pops up beside him. "Hey, loser," she greets nonchalantly, leaning against Ned's locker.
Peter can't help the relieved smile that lights up his face. "Hi, MJ. Have you seen Ned?"
"Ouch. No, hey MJ, how's your day going so far?" She responds, face completely blank. Peter's eyes widen, his mouth dropping open at the thought of hurting her feelings, but a relaxed grin takes over her face. "I'm screwing with you. Nedward's gone today. Appointment. He said so in the group chat."
"Oh," Peter finishes grabbing the books he needs and carefully closes the locker. "My phone died. I didn't see it." It's a lie, but he really didn't see it. He barely has any interest in his phone anymore. He barely has interest in anything anymore.
"Aren't teenagers these days supposed to be like surgically attached to their electronics?" MJ asks as they both start toward their classes, and Peter raises a brow.
"Are you not a teenager yourself?"
"I don't know, am I?" She retorts ominously as they reach Peter's first class, and she backs away, vanishing into the crowd of students.
Despite the anxiety of being alone for a lot of his classes, a genuine smile stays on his lips as he walks in.
It's no surprise that his stomach churns with anxiety the second he remembers about spanish class. He's walking to lunch when he remembers, and his footsteps immediately become slower, more sluggish, as if him being slower will make time slow down.
He doesn't even see MJ until he's sitting down, and she tosses an apple at him from her spot across from him. He blinks, catching it and looking up at her. "Why are you all depressed?"
He panics for a split second, before realizing she means just in this instance. "I forgot to do my Spanish homework," Peter tells her, hating how often he lies to those he's close to.
She nods, chewing very slowly on her slice of pizza. She has another on her tray, and as if hypnotized, picks it up and hands it out for him. "Oh, I- I don't need your food."
"Eat, Nerd," MJ insists, not taking it back, and Peter sighs, relenting and taking it from her. It's gone in minutes, and he has to admit that he is hungry. The apple MJ threw at him is sitting by his arm, and he pretends not to notice his friend watching him as he picks it up and rolls it around in his hands.
"You can have it. That was the whole point of me throwing it at you."
A blush colors his cheeks, but for the first time in a while, he finally eats the apple. He's lost count by now how many times she's thrown one at him, only for him to chuck it in the trash when lunch is over.
When the bell rings, Peter's disappointed for two reasons. One, he's suddenly anxious about Spanish again, and two, he doesn't want to leave MJ.
"See you next period, loser," she says, before wandering off, and if he stares after her, it's nobody's business but his.
"I've got to say, Peter, I'm really disappointed. I've given you as many chances as I could, because I know you're a good student, but you're just not getting anything done," Ms. George is telling him, a small frown on her face, and he wants to sink into the ground, never to be seen again.
"I'm sorry. I-I've just been really busy. I'll really try, I promise," Peter responds, his voice barely a whisper, and Ms. George sighs.
"I really hope so, Mr. Parker. Right now, I've got you down as an F."
She walks off after that, but he can't get her words out of his head. She's disappointed. He's a disappointment. He's a disappointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, Peter flinches as a crumpled piece of paper suddenly collides with the back of his head. He'd almost forgotten that Flash was in this class with him.
"What's that, loser? You're failing Spanish? Should have known you wouldn't be know-it-all Parker for long," the black haired boy sneers, causing Peter to clench his fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms.
For the rest of the period, Flash continues to throw paper at him, or kick the back of his chair lightly. Anything he can do to inconvenience him in the slightest.
When the bell rings, he's out the door faster than he ever had been before. After putting his stuff in his bag, his eyes seek out MJ before he realizes what he's doing.
He doesn't have to look hard, because she's walking right toward him. "Hey, come over to my apartment tonight."
Peter blinks owlishly at her. "What?" He squeaks, but a confused smile tugs at his lips.
"I wanna dye your hair," the brunette supplies, unblinking.
"Um, I should probably check with May, but okay. . ?"
She tilts her head at his acceptance, nodding her approval. "Not all your hair, obviously. Be there at eight."
Peter continues to smile confusedly, but he follows her outside and waves a goodbye to her as she walks off. His eyes search for Happy's Audi, and while he doesn't see it, the hotrod red sports car with the license plate STARK8 isn't very inconspicuous. Rolling his eyes, he starts to make his way over, wary of the students that had seen it and are whispering about it.
As he approaches, the passenger window slides down to reveal Tony in the driver's seat, tinted sunglasses on the tip of his nose. "Hop in, Kiddo," he calls, and Peter does so hesitantly, offering a shaky smile to his mentor as he climbs in and buckles his seatbelt.
"Hi, Mr. Stark! I have to leave early today, if that's okay. At eight," he says as the billionaire pulls out of the parking lot, and Tony glanced over at him with his brows raised.
"What for? Aunt Hottie need you for something?"
"Ew, no," Peter scrunches his nose in disgust at the nickname, shaking his head. "MJ wants to dye my hair."
Tony raises his brow even more. "What color? You gonna do red and blue to match your spidey theme?" He questions, flicking on his turn signal as they slow to a stop at a traffic light.
"Um, I don't know. And she's not gonna do all my hair, Mr. Stark."
Tony barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "I think it would be absolutely adorable. Anyway, it's alright. I'll take you there when we're done in the lab."
"Not Happy?" Peter suddenly asks in confusion, wondering why the man suddenly wants to drive him everywhere.
"What, disappointed?" Tony teases, but Peter can see that he's actually slightly hurt and the teen mentally curses himself for making Iron Man feel bad.
"No! Of course not! It's just, Happy usually drives me places. Not you," the boy explains, wringing his hands in his lap nervously, but Tony glances over, a small frown adorning his face.
"I'm just messing with you, kid. What's up with you and MJ, anyway?"
"Mr. Stark! We're just friends!" Peter squeaks, his cheeks flushing red.
Tony laughs loudly, a n amused grin remaining on his face, even as they pull into the tower's garage. "There's the Pete I know. I was starting to get worried last week."
Peter's very rare good mood abruptly drops, but he doesn't show it, offering his mentor a fake smile. "I was just a little stressed about school," he lies, shoving his hands in his pockets.
The billionaire grins at him, and he doesn't have the heart to tell him that he was more than a little stressed, that he'd been thinking about killing himself because school was so hard. He can't tell him that he really really needs help and that he doesn't know how much longer he can do this. He doesn't tell him that he fell asleep last night with blood on his arm and tears staining his cheeks.
He only smiles, and Tony, naive Tony, doesn't see past it.