Chapter Text
♥ I hate the way you're not around, and that you didn’t call ♥
Flash spends most of his classes staring at an empty seat. His teachers comment on it but he can’t bring himself to care. MJ calls this “pining” as she sketches him. He’s not in crisis, he tells her. She just smirks and continues. He considers asking her for one of her sketches of Peter, but he doesn’t. He wants to, but he doesn’t. Just like he wants to text Peter, but doesn’t.
It hurts Flash more than he wants to admit. He knows the old adage about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, but not seeing Peter is doing the opposite. Flash replays his fight with Peter at night when he tries to sleep. He thinks about it in class, staring at an empty chair. He can’t replace it with all the better moments of the last few months. His mind is not a difference engine, not a computer. It is a record player, filling his head with teary blue eyes and shaking lips.
Even Jesse’s started to notice that something’s up. She makes comments about Flash being distracted and asks if he’s okay. Flash just tells her that he’s stressed at school. She doesn’t believe him. She’s too smart for him. Flash usually sighs and tells her that he’s okay, really. Sometimes he just says that he got in a fight with his friend. Jesse smirks at that and leaves him alone. Flash isn’t sure whether he should be concerned that she knows so much without him telling her or thankful she doesn’t reject him outright.
Stark’s latest project is on the news constantly. Flash grits his teeth whenever he hears about it. Stark is keeping Peter away from him, and Flash can’t help but hate him. The only reason he keeps paying attention is that Spider-man is mentioned in most reports. Flash wonders if he could get Peter to get an autograph or t-shirt or something from him, but Flash’s fingers freeze over Peter’s name in his phone. Spider-man probably sees more of Peter than he does. Flash can’t hate Spidey, though.
No, absence isn’t making Flash love Peter more. It’s twisting his gut into something darker, and Flash isn’t sure he can fight it.
This isn’t love.
It’s not.
Probably.
♥ ♥ ♥
Flash is idly answering chemistry problems when breaking news comes on. Stark tower is under attack.
Flash shoots off the couch and turns up the volume. Someone yells from upstairs but Flash doesn’t hear them. Villains stormed the place looking for Tony Stark, as usual, but this time they took hostages. Flash holds his breath as they name the identified employees being held at gunpoint. His heart hammers in his chest, drowning out his thoughts. He barely hears them say “Peter Parker”. It’s like a bad dream. Flash swears, loudly. His mom scolds him from the top of the stairs but he doesn’t listen. It is only when the reporter says that Peter Parker escaped his captors by kicking one in the groin and running that he can breathe. Word is that Spider-man is already on the scene.
Flash grabs his phone and calls Peter. No answer. He isn’t surprised, but he leaves a frantic voicemail, all the same, begging him to call him back.
“Honey, please turn that...” Flash’s mother’s voice dies as she enters the room. Flash knows what he must look like, with wide red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands. “What’s wrong?”
“My friend works at Stark Tower, and villains attacked it, and he might be a hostage and I....ked.”
“Oh my god!” Flash’s mother joins him in front of the TV. “Is he okay? Was he taken as a hostage?”
“The news lady said he escaped.”
“Thank goodness.” Flash’s mother places a hand on his shoulder. “Your friend will probably be okay, Eugene. The Avengers are likely on their way.”
“Spider-man is already there.”
“Good!” Flash’s mother smiles. “That awful Jameson man is so wrong about him.”
“Yeah,” Flash says.
Flash’s mother strokes his hair. “Don’t worry, my dear. Your friend will be okay.”
Flash nods without looking at her. She sighs. “I know how scared you must be, Eugene. But you need to have hope, okay? It’s the only superpower we regular people have.”
Flash manages a smile as she leaves. Hope, huh. He can try hope. Like hoping Peter calls him back.
♥ ♥ ♥
Flash doesn’t hear from Peter until he shows up at school bruised black and blue. Flash had been nauseous since the attack and seeing Peter again didn’t help. The tightness in his chest from worry didn’t loosen, and he still felt a lingering sense of dread. Peter’s face was littered with bruises. He winced when he moved, and Flash with him.
Everyone crowds around Peter in first period, asking him a million questions. Half are variations of “are you okay” and half are rude and probably triggering. MJ scatters most of their peers with a scathing remark, and Ned tells the rest of them to be quiet. Peter’s eyes look haunted. They’re still pretty. Flash tries to get him to look over, but Peter won’t. His chest feels hot and tight and painful.
Flash waits until lunch to corner Peter, dragging him into an empty classroom by his shirt. Peter protests, weakly. Flash knows that Peter’s too drained to fight back.
“What the hell, Parker?” Flash slams a desk. Peter jumps.
“Flash, what are we doing here?”
“You didn’t call me back. I left you a message, and…” Flash can’t find the words. He just stops, his shoulders slumping. He lets his hands fall to his side.
“I was in the hospital, I had to get stitches and I was on a bunch of pain meds. I was kind of out of it. Wait...were you worried about me?”
“No shit.” Flash snaps. “No, I drag everyone into empty classrooms to yell at them for not calling me back after being held hostage by supervillains. It’s my thing.”
“I thought...” Peter stops. “Never mind. I’m fine, Flash. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, I meant to, but...”
“But what?”
“I...I didn’t know what to say.”
“ 'I’m fine, Flash, how are you?' See, was that hard?”
“It is when it’s us.”
Flash sighs. He leans back against a desk. “I know.”
“Yeah.” Peter looks away. They sit in silence.
“Do you hate me?” Flash asks, quietly.
Peter sighs. “No, I don’t.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know.”
“Yeah.”
“How do you feel about me?”
Flash sighs. “I don’t know, Peter. I just don’t know.”
Peter nods. “Okay.”
Flash looks up. “Okay?”
“Thanks for calling me, Flash. It was really nice of you, I’m glad you care if I live or die, I guess. But I don’t think I can be led along, you know? If you don’t know how you feel about me, I don’t know if we can be friends.”
Flash nods, fighting tears. His face burns. His chest hurts. Nothing feels good. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Peter watches him for a minute, with those pretty eyes. Flash tries to meet them, but can’t. Peter exhales, long and frustrated.
“I’ll see you around, Flash.”
Flash says nothing as Peter leaves the room. He can’t look up. He doesn’t want to see if Peter looked back. He knows he probably didn’t.
“Stay,” Flash says to an empty room. It echoes back to him. “Stay.”
Peter isn’t going to talk to him anymore, and the only word he wants to say is hanging in the silence of an empty classroom. Flash takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes, and leaves.
Flash doesn’t hate Peter. He knows that. If he hated him, losing him wouldn’t feel like this.
♥ But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. ♥
Peter stands alone at homecoming. Flash watches him talk idly to Ned and MJ, make a joke with Abraham, and drink two glasses of punch. His suit is burgundy this year and his tie is black and gold. To Flash, he looks like a model or a Kingsmen or something. His eyes are still pretty. Flash doesn’t hate him.
A whole month of dancing around each other has led to this moment. Awkward silences in class, weird exchanges at decathlon, and longing glances across the lunchroom. Flash thought that if his heart healed in that time he could get over Peter. But he can’t. He can’t cope with what was left unsaid. If the shot of vodka in the mildly spiked punch is what he needs to talk to Peter, then he’ll take it.
He got an A on his poetry paper, doing what Peter suggested. Peter smiled when Flash cheered out loud in class.
Peter goes out for air and Flash follows. This year he didn’t bring a date. He doesn’t have time for girls, he tells his parents. He tells himself he’s not pining. It’s not fair, he knows, to string someone along when you’re into someone else.
He’s into Peter Parker, and Peter Parker is not into him.
Flash isn’t hurt. It doesn’t matter.
Peter walks to the edge of the stairs and stops. He doesn’t look behind him. Flash tries to say “hello” at the very least but no words come out. Maybe this is wrong, and this...thing is supposed to stay unrequited. Flash is pretty sure he wasn’t seen and tries to go back inside. Peter looks too pretty out here, under the lights of New York City and the perfect summer moon. Flash can’t look at him any longer.
“Wait,” Peter calls out, turning around.
Flash almost goes back inside. “What?” He asks.
“I want to...never mind.” Peter sighs. “Enjoy the dance, Flash. You’ve earned it.”
Flash storms over to Peter and barely resists grabbing him by the lapels. “What do you want, Peter?”
“I’m sorry,” Peter says. “I didn’t mean to...I liked being your friend. You’re funny and smart and I guess I thought you weren’t going to like me at all? I guess I didn’t know that you were going to be mad if I told you I knew how you felt, but then you were, I thought you’d just laugh at me, and you didn’t, but I didn’t mean to...”
“Shut up, Parker.” Flash sighs, dropping his hands to his sides. “You’re always apologizing for everything. This is my fault.”
“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me,” Peter’s voice cracks.
Flash feels his heart shatter. His chest tightens and he can barely breathe. “I don’t hate you,” Flash whispers. “I never did.”
“Okay,” Peter breathes, but Flash isn’t done.
“But I do hate you.”
“What?” Peter sputters. “Now I’m lost.”
Flash takes a deep breath and starts talking. “I hate that you don’t talk to me, I hate your stupid eyes and your stupid hair, I hate how smart you are and I hate how you open up to me for no reason and I hate that you see things about me that I don’t want you to and I hate that I love you so much and I can’t….” Peter stares at him, mouth gaping just a little bit and struggling to appear polite. Flash tries to break the tension with a joke. “I hate it when you stare at me.” Peter doesn’t smile. “I’m just, uh, going to go now….”
“Flash, please don’t go.” Flash freezes when Peter reaches for him. Instead of the shoulder, Peter goes for the hand. “Stay.” Flash’s body shakes. Suddenly they’re so close, but too far away. Flash can feel how warm Peter’s body is. His heart beats in his throat. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I mean, I knew you like liked me, but I didn’t….”
“Well, I don’t like you, Peter.” Flash won’t look at him. “I love you.”
“Why?” Peter asks in disbelief. “You’re Flash Thompson. You’re smart and witty and really hot. Like, really hot. I’m “Penis Parker.””
“No, you’re Peter.” Flash takes a deep breath before wrapping his arm around Peter, pulling him in. “You’re Perfect Parker.” He realizes how cheesy his words are as soon as they leave his mouth, but Peter is smiling at him and it doesn’t matter. Peter likes cheesy stuff. He likes puns and rock music and poetry. He likes Flash.
“Can I touch your hair?” Flash asks. Peter takes one of his hands and puts it in his hair, leaning into the touch. It is soft. So very soft. Flash pets Peter’s head until his hair is flat. Peter musses Flash's black waves and he can’t stop smiling.
“We’re terrible,” Flash laughs, “we’re like weird hair freaks or something.”
“Yeah, but we’re the best kind of freaks,” Peter says, looking up into Flash’s eyes. His eyes are so pretty. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He leans forward and presses his lips to Flash’s. It's tentative, like how Peter does everything for the first time. Flash pulls him closer and wraps his arms around him.
“I don’t want to let you go,” Flash says into Peter’s lips.
“Then don’t,” Peter says. “Never let me go.”
“I can’t promise I won’t be a jackass,” Flash admits.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Peter stares up into Flash’s eyes. His eyes shine in the bright lights and Flash can’t help but compare them to stars. “I love you too, Flash. I love you too.”
Flash pulls Peter to him and kisses him, full and passionate. Peter leans into the kiss. Flash swears that Peter swoons into his arms and Flash’s knees go weak. He tries to hold them both up but they stumble, breaking the kiss and laughing.
“We’re both total messes,” Flash nuzzles his nose against Peter’s. “We’re just disasters waiting to happen.”
“Then why wait?” Peter says. He reaches down and grabs Flash’s hand. "We can happen. I want us to happen."
“Yeah,” Flash says, smiling, “why wait? You might decide you hate me after all.”
“I can’t hate you, Flash.” Peter links their arms. “And I don’t think I ever will.”
Flash Thompson loves Peter Parker. He loves how Peter makes his knees go wobbly, how he whips his insides into a woozy frenzy, and he loves how Peter accepts him without question. The only part of any of this he hates, he realizes, is that it took him so damn long to have it and that he almost screwed it up.
Peter’s eyes are still pretty, perhaps the prettiest they’ve ever been, staring into Flash’s like he was the most important thing in the universe, like stars colliding, like poetry.
Yeah, like poetry.