Chapter 1
The room is obnoxiously crowded with grinding, wriggling, sweating bodies. Michelle stands slouching outside of the undulating mass with a cliche red solo cup grasped in her hands. A social experiment, is what she calls her attendance of the party, definitely not her mother forcing her out of the house. Across the room is the one and only stupidly dorky Peter Parker.
Except he's not.
Dorky that is, at least not anymore. In April of junior year, three months or so after Gwen Stacy’s death, he disappeared. No goodbye, no warning, just poof and he's gone almost as if he was never there. When he came back two weeks into Senior year he was different. He was ho-
“Hey MJ! Crazy seeing you here.” She's broken out of her thoughts by the somewhat annoyingly perky voice of Betty Brandt. Michelle shoots her a cool look before taking a sip of the ominous fluid in her cup. Why was it pink?
“Hey Betty. How's it going?” Betty's face lights up at Michelle's question, the blonde takes a deep breath before launching into what was bound to be a monumental rant.
“It was going great until Peter showed up! I mean honestly, he's nice enough but he's so… different from last year! I used to think he wasn't like other guys, yet here's yet another hormone driven fuckboy! It's nice to see him moving on from Gwen-rest her soul- but this is ridiculous! I came here with Matt from the Stonyside school and it was going great ya know? Then I offhandedly mention that Peters bi and-”
At this Michelle cuts her off.
“Wait what? Peter Parker?” Betty nods in response.
“Yeah and as I was saying, he-”
Michelle yet again interrupts Betty's unnecessaryily long tirade.
“No way! Peter Parker, certified dweeb? Curly hair? Bambi eyes?” Michelle asks incredulously.
“Yes, is there any other Peter Parker? Didn't you hear about him hooking up with that hot blonde a couple years older than us?” Michelle shakes her head no, it was below her to keep up with gossip. (Or at least that's what she tells herself while she kicks herself for being so unobservant.)
“Oh...um, yeah the blonde one. Now I remember! That happened like…” MJ trailed off hoping Betty would fill it in.
“Just like a month ago! Honestly, I'm all for free love and shit, but Peter’s taking everyone! What happened to shy sweet Peter Parker. I mean I guess this is better then last year, he was so depressed after Gwen…”
“Yeah.” MJ awkwardly replied. The topic of Gwen Stacy always made her uncomfortable. They hadn't exactly been friends, but they also hadn't not been friends. Gwen was perfect for Peter, unlike Michelle. Not that it mattered.
“Oh! Speak of the devil…” Betty says backing away from Michelle as Peter approaches. The girl he'd been flirting with is gone, MJ absently notes.
“Hey MJ, Betty. Good party huh? Flash always knows how to have ‘em.” His hair is a little curled with sweat and his shirt is ruffled, he looks goddamn sexy.
“I mean if you like this sort of thing.” Damn, that was a lot more bitter then she meant to sound. “Which I do!” MJ quickly interjects. But now she sounds weirdly eager. “I guess.” She amends finally.
He has the audacity to laugh. Asoft, but honest chuckle. The kind where the left side of his mouth pulls a little higher then the right to show of a faint dimple.
“Channeling your inner Peter Parker?” He says referring to her awkwardness.
“Oh please Parker, you haven't been that awkward since before your weird disappearance.” The statement is blunter then she meant it to be, but it's true.
There's an awkward pause. There's been some unspoken agreement to never bring up the time that Peter was gone, or the his period of depression before.
“Yeah, I guess you're right. Um, I gotta go. I told Sierra I'd meet her upstairs.” He ruffles his hair sheepishly before turning to leave. “I'll see you Monday, I guess.”
Her hand is reaching out without her permission. Bad stupid hand.
“Wait, Peter.”
He looks at her expectantly. Her hand is resting on his exposed forearm. It's a nice forearm, there's a scar there that she hadn't noticed before.
“I-um. I wanted to um… say sorry about your aunt. I didn't see you at the funeral and well, I never got the time to, you know, say anything…” Way to make it awk add again Michelle.
Peters expression is unreadable as he pulls his arm out of her hand.
“I wasn't there. I was … away.”
And he leaves.
She's standing alone in a corner again.
At a party that she doesn't want to be at, with people who probably don't want her there.
“Fuck.”
…………………………………………………………………
“Fuck.”
Peter’s hands are gripping the vanity, his knuckles are the same color as the porcelain.
Aunt May’s hands were gripping his. Her eyes pleading with him to stay.
His breath is coming in rapid pants.
in out in out in out in-out in-out inout inout in-
There's no oxygen
“Peter, baby, I-” Aunt May broke off abruptly. She fiercely wiped at her eyes. The air left Peters lungs, he hasn't seen her cry since Uncle Ben died.
“Shit-” He's gasping. He sits on the edge of the tub, bringing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Breath Peter.” He's muttering numbers under his breath. That's what they do in the movies right?
“ One, t-two, thr-three…” He inhales slowly.
“Peter you don't have to save the world. Please. Peter, I know I can't ask you to stay. I know. I just-” Her voice is cracking in a way that he's never heard before. He almost doesn't recognize this frantic shaking woman in front of him.
Exhale. He stands up retaking his place at the sink. Under the fluorescent lights his pale skin looks ghostly, there are thumb prints of purple under his bloodshot eyes. He wants to turn away. It's like watching a gross movie he thinks, there's something fascinating about watching something break.
“Hey! Can you hurry the fuck up in there?” The exclamation is accompanied by giggles and shouts of agreement.
Tap tap tap. There was someone at the door, they could wait.“Pete can you hurry up? I don't want to rush you, but the whole alien invasion things a little time sensitive.” Tony's voice is muddled by the thick oak. He shouted some sort of affirmation before turning back to his tear stricken aunt. “Aunt May, I-I have to go… I’m sorry.” There's something warm on his face. Oh. He's crying.
“Just-just a minute!” He shouts back, voice hoarse. He ignores whatever they say back. His eyes never leave the strange and unfamiliar face is the mirror.
The lips are set in a hard line he didn't recognize. The jagged scarf traveling down its left cheek looks painful and out of place on the young face. The pallid skin, veined in a sickly green blue. But the eyes, when the light was just right, a warm brown.
Mays gaze is open and beseeching as she cradled his face. “I love you Peter Parker.” He nodded, his throat tight with words he can't say. “A-aunt May, I-” She pulled him close, his nose filled with her familiar perfume. “Shh.. baby it's okay.”
Peter watches in fascination as a tear runs down the slopes of the face in the mirror. He tastes salt.
Aunt May gently wiped away his tears even as she freely shredded her own. They stood in the doorway of apartment 314, Mr.Stark casually lingered a polite distance away. She firmly grasped his shoulders. “You come back to me Peter.” Her voice was strong with emotions he couldn't understand. “Aunt May I-” Peter began. “No, Peter. I need you to promise me, you will come home.” A voice in his head reminded him to not make promises he couldn't keep.
The eyes in the mirror are pathetic. He's pathetic. What kind of superhero breaks down in the bathroom over some stupid comment?
“I promise.”
“Fuck” Peters fist is hitting the mirror. The face splinters, a spider web of glass before it all falls down. He acutely feels the pain of the glass biting his knuckles.
“Hey what's going on in there!”
Peter wipes his eyes and slaps on a grin. Before kicking the bathroom door open.
Showtime
“Ugh, I had too many shots… like- like 6 shots ago.” Peter grins lazily before stumbling out. “Whatever, let's get back to the party guys!”
Everyone's cheering. He keeps his smile as he lets himself be pushed downstairs by the crowd.
He never notices the shrewd gaze from under the curly hair in the corner.