Chapter Text
The day passed long, slow, painstakingly, brain shrinkingly, annoyingly, gratingly, (Okay you get it- about all the negative adverbs you can possibly think of) that was Peter Parker’s day.
Classes were unproductive. Teachers looked as if they were teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, not that Peter would blame them if they were, and the students didn’t fare much better. Most of the students Peter did see had hollowed out eyes, the girls by the looks of it didn’t do much makeup and the boys seemed to just be more hollowed out. The students that Peter knew didn’t identify as either or seemed to be devoid of their usual expressionism, accessories to the bare minimum, if at all. Those who did make an effort took one look at the students around them and seemingly deflated, the general sadness was infectious and not in a good way. Not that infectious sadness could ever be good.
Peter couldn’t tell what time it was. Phones were forbidden inside of class and most of the clocks on the walls had stopped working, as had most of the technology in the building due to the energy disturbance caused by the stones- not that anyone other than Peter knew about that. King T’Challa’s statement was good, it covered all the grey areas and kept most government officials from losing their marbles, and yet it was still so evasive. It didn’t cover what the real effects of the snap were, and it certainly didn’t go into detail about the consequences of it all, nor their next moves as the avengers. In other words, T’Challa said a load of bullshit about nothing.
The rooms were half empty all the time- as if the school had some kind of field trip that only half of the school was going on, only this time, they weren’t coming back.
Some students weren’t even able to get here because their parents had been snapped or their regular buses were destroyed, or because their usual drivers had been blipped.
Flash had shown up to class 30 minutes late after their ‘confrontation’ (if you could even call it that), not that the teacher said anything about it, and he refused to look at Peter the entire time. It was odd, truthfully, hearing no witty comeback from the boy who seemed hellbent on picking at his misery.
Peter did think about apologising, but then again, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference, He and Flash were always going to be at odds, Peter refuting his taunts didn’t change that, instead, it may have just gotten Flash to lay off for a while: Giving Peter a well sought after break.
The end of the day signalled silently, with their teachers being the ones to announce it rather than a bell and a shrill, static-sounding intercom, which made Peter feel both paranoid and grateful that the dreaded siren wasn't blasting in his ear hole.
Without the bell, the others around him didn’t feel the need to yell over it, so everyone stood from their seats in uncomfortable silence. This meant that letting the classrooms file out mutely resulted in single file lines out the door. Teachers used to wish it would be this organised on the regular, only now, they wished that it hadn’t come at such a heavy price. Nobody had much to say to anyone. Not when each and every student inside the school was losing someone, with the exception of Flash, Peter thought, because he hadn't given anything away to suggest otherwise.
As he filed out the school behind herds of students whose faces he recognised, Peter watched with a profound sadness in his heart at all the people whose lives were essentially destroyed. The guilt was crushing. He was right there and yet… He couldn't do anything. He couldn't prevent this.
Even the teachers were breaking down.
Watching through classroom doors as he walked, Peter saw the faces of teachers he had never even met being comforted by students as they broke apart. One teacher was crying about her son, another about his sister. It was a punch to the gut, a feeling that scooped out his insides and made him feel as if his chest were being vacuumed out.
As he approached the steps leading out the school, Peter’s nose filled with the stench of rain. Through the open doors, it was a torrential downpour outside, the sky rumbling with the atmospheric pressure that had been building for the last few months, another of Thanos' snap's many dreadful wonders. The storm came accompanied with a rough wind that picked up the ashes of those they had lost and made them drift into the sky. Scattering the ashes like one would at a funeral. It was a shame that nobody knew who’s ashes they were scattering. Peter wishes he got to see this under better circumstances. The ashes gracefully blossomed into the sky alongside the rain. Peter could see why people did this to honour their loved ones, it was beautiful, in an agonising, macabre sort of way.
As they drifted out of view, Peter was forced to lower his gaze from the greyed sky and rub the rain away that had collected on his lash line, filling his eyes with water.
From behind him, Flash nudged Peter. “Parker.” He grit out roughly. His eyes were red and subtly puffy but Peter didn’t comment.
“Flash.” He turned to face him, the wind brushing against his hair, fluffing damp curls into puffy ringlets that got once again weighted down by the rain.
“I do care.” The boy declared, chin dropped, eyes downcast and lips pursed in thought.
“I have empathy.” He amended, going back to Peter’s statement from earlier.
“And for what it’s worth. I did lose someone.” He added, voice shaking.
Peter’s eyes widened, suddenly feeling far worse than before. Oh.
“My parents just weren't around that much before, so them being- ‘Blipped’...” He made quotation marks. The rain was making his hair stick to his forehead, he looked away and forcefully moved it from his face, scrubbing away stray droplets as he did. “It doesn’t change much for me.” He forced out.
He didn’t say anything else. Just shoved his shoulder into Peter’s as he stormed access the pavement to get into the black BMW that was waiting to pick him up.
Peter stood there silently on the second to last step of midtown high, mutely watching the car pull away and into the street where thousands of other cars and buses were making their slow descent down to their own lives.
He didn’t wait for Ned or MJ. Instead, he turned around and headed back inside, using the sleeves of his now very wet flannel to scrub at his hair. Flash, not that Peter would ever admit it, had given him an idea.
Marching down the corridor, ignoring the squeak his wet shoes left on the linoleum floor, Peter mentally prepared for the conversation he was going to have.
Peter knocked on his principal's door. Cold knuckles making a firm knock against the painted wood.
“Come in.”
He did.
“Ah, Peter, it’s good to see you again, are you feeling better?” He asked warmly, gesturing to the seat Peter had sat in earlier that day.
Peter once again took it, shivering at the warmth the office brought. “I’m fine, Sir, thanks.” He paused.
“Earlier this morning, you mentioned that it was okay to be affected by this…?” He began hesitantly.
“I did, Why, is something the matter? We can always set you up with a counsellor if you need to discuss the effects of this further?”
Peter shook his head and wrung his palms in his lap. “Uh- No sir, I was actually going to ask if I could have a few days off school? I can’t really cope with being here right now but I also know my attendance will suffer if I'm not here…” A little white lie never hurt anyone, besides, it wasn’t technically untrue. While Peter could force himself to deal with it, there was no harm in taking time off if he could.
His principle studied him, a pensive look in his eye. “While it is true that your attendance would be affected, being honest Peter, I don't really care about attendance in amongst all this crisis, I just want my students safe.” He paused and scrolled on his computer for a few moments.
“Here's what I can offer; The paper work will take ages because of everything going on because of the blip, but I can submit an application for medical leave. Because of the blip you won’t need a doctor's note or anything official and I can cover your back with admission. I just need you to continue doing work at home so I have something to submit to the board. That way neither of us get into trouble.”
Principal Morita looked over at Peter with a warm smile whereas Peter looked gobsmacked, that was way more than what he was expecting…
“Uh- yeah- yeah, I can do that.” He nodded and sat up straighter in his seat.
“Great. I’ll submit the requests tomorrow morning when the teacher’s portal reopens for emails.” He paused and then turned his full attention to Peter.
“While I'm glad you’re taking the steps to better your mental health Peter, I am worried. I’ve never needed you in my office for behavioural issues before, and I understand we’ve never really had a good student-teacher conversation before, however, I want you to understand that you can talk to me; Even if it’s just a quick email or five minute chat in here, you’re safe to talk to me about anything, especially now of all times. Okay?”
Peter nodded, dipping his chin under the concerned gaze. “Yes, sir.”
After a few seconds, Principal Morita nodded and gave Peter another softened smile. “If that’s all, then I’ve only got one more thing we need to discuss, and that's when you feel you’re going to be ready to come back to full time education? If it feels too much in one go, we can always discuss a reduced time-table?” He turned back to his computer as he spoke, typing something in.
“What’s that?” Peter asked, leaning back in his seat while watching his principal type.
“Well, normally the attendance officer would be the one to explain, alongside the Family liaison officer, but basically a reduced timetable is where a student, instead of coming in for every lesson, everyday of the week as you would now, you would instead only come in for specific lessons or specific days, for example on a Monday you may only choose to come in for lesson 3 instead of all of the classes.” He explained carefully.
“But how about, before we discuss the finite details of all of that, I get you the time off you requested, hm? I don’t want to overwhelm you with a bunch of technical jargon that you didn’t ask to learn about.” He chuckled subtly.
Peter joined him, chuckling dumbly, but nodding regardless. It didn’t sound like a bad idea though, maybe he and May would have to come back on a different day to discuss it.
“Thank you, Sir.” He nodded gratefully at Morita, who nodded in return.
“Don’t stress it, Peter. It’s what I'm here for. Now, if that’s all, I suggest you head home before the rain starts up again.”
“Right.” He stood, stretching out aching joints. In the 15 minutes he’d been here, the rain had more or less completely stopped, leaving only a few dainty splotches to fall from the sky, but not enough to be a concern. He didn’t even notice the rain stopping at all.
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Walking back into his apartment, Peter pulled his headphones from his ears, looking around.
His Spider-sense was going off in rapid succession, feeling like cold water was racing up his spine. Someone was here.
However, before he could get out his suit and attack whoever was in his home, because he knew for a fact it wasn’t his Aunt May, a man in a neat 2 piece suit stepped out in front of him.
He was tall, taller than Peter and Mr Stark, but not quite as tall as Mr Captain America. Peter estimated him at around the 6 foot range but he could be off by a few inches. His shirt and black suit jacket seemed to be of custom fit because they clung to his figure snug but not wrong. The white shirt was definitely ironed, it was without a single wrinkle in sight and it crinkled when he moved, sounding life freshly cleaned bedsheets. His tie was of perfect length with a neat Windsor knot. He had a briefcase in one hand, a cane in the other, sporting a very expensive pair of completely black sunglasses.
“Hello, Mr Parker. My name is Matt Murdock, I’m a lawyer of Stark Industries. It would seem that we have a lot to talk about.”