Chapter Text
“Psst.”
Just ignore it.
“Hey. Parker.”
Just. Ignore. It.
“Parker. Hey, Par-”
Peter turned around in his seat, immediately regretting the action and fought back the urge to turn back around. Now face to face with perhaps the worst things to ever grace the halls of Midtown, Peter anticipated for whatever will come out of the bastard’s mouth next.
“So, heard you gave good head,” Flash said finally with a toothy grin, “I wanna know if you’re better than my girlfriend. Fourth floor bathroom during last period?”
That comment earned some snickers from Flash’s lackeys. Not hiding his eye roll, Peter swiftly turned back around in his seat. His ears felt hot, eyes darting around to see if anyone else heard that comment. His eyes jumped to the clock on the right wall, the big hand seeming so terribly far from the twelve.
All the other students around Peter remain glued to the front of the class, listening intently to Mr. Stark’s rambling. Some had their heads burrowed within their arms, sound asleep since the beginning of the period. So far no one has tried to hide their giggles with their hand, or even worse, given Peter a sympathetic look.
“Aw, c’mon Parker,” Flash said with mock disappointment, “is that a no?”
This started another wave of laughs from Flash’s friends, this time catching Mr. Stark’s attention. The teacher gazed at Peter’s direction with a single eyebrow arched, eyes finding it’s target at the group of boy seated behind Peter. The laughter ceased into an awkward silence, however the smile was not completely wiped off their faces. The other students, feeling the awkwardness riding in the air, made Peter more uncomfortable than before.
“Boys,” Mr. Stark said drily, “I know your life goals are flippin’ burgers and cleaning shit out of toilets, but- spoiler alert, there’s some people here who want to do well on their final. So put a sock in it, okay?”
Although the students were familiar with Mr. Stark’s unadulterated bluntness by now, his scolding still managed to squeeze out some snickers across the class, even from Peter.
As Mr. Stark faced back to the board, raising the dry erase marker to finish writing out an unfinished chemical equation, Flash leaned in closer to Peter, Peter shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he felt the unwanted presence.
“That was funny to you, Parker?” Flash sneered, “Be careful, don’t be fucking stupid.”
Peter gulped as Flash eased back into his chair. Peter hunched forward into his arms, which were folded atop his desk. Trying to shake Flash’s jeers and his friend’s laughs from his mind, Peter tried to pay attention to the lesson being taught. Equilibriums… Le Chatelier’s principle… All things Peter was quite familiar with already.
His mind wandered off, anticipating the moment the clock will hit three o’clock and the bell will sound. It was a particularly beautiful day in Queens today, not that most June days in Queens were not beautiful. However, this day is to be spent in the confines of his room, amongst strewn loose leaf paper and opened textbooks. With final examinations approaching, Peter has not been doing anything else other than study, much to Aunt May’s dismay. Many times has she suggested Peter to ask Ned to hang out, just to get some fresh air- but it was as if she was talking to a wall. Peter Parker in note-revising mode might as well be a brick wall.
In the back of Peter’s mind, he knows he might as well listen to Aunt May, but his room gives a sense of relief at the end of each day. Away from the buzz of a school day, away from the neverending droning of lessons. As soon as the backpack leaves his shoulders, Peter sees no reason to leave.
Glancing back at the clock, the big hand showed less than five minutes until dismissal. Peter’s foot shook in anticipation, picturing stretching out on his bed, stuffing some snacks down his throat at the same time.
Brrrrrring!
The bell cut off Mr. Stark’s sentence, sighing in defeat as he knew there was no way to stop the students from leaving. Chairs scraped against the floor as students stood up, the sound of zippers all around Peter as they stuffed their binders in their backpacks. Peter moved to do the same, silently giving himself a pat on the back as it is finally the end of the day.
Before he could stand up, Flash swiped his books on the floor, swift enough as to not cause any attention to himself. Peter looked up at Flash with annoyance in his eyes, eyeing him as he speedily left the door.
His friends quickly followed, all of them tall and obnoxious, wearing smirks on their faces as they glanced at Peter on their way out.
Peter tried not to make eye contact with any of them, but accidentally made the mistake with the last lackey on his way out. The other boy did not look away, his hazel eyes looking down at Peter. Unlike the rest of them, he was not smiling.
Somehow, Peter could not tear his eyes away. Perhaps he was terrified of his scar, cutting through his eyebrow. Peter realized just how dumb he probably looked at that moment, the awkwardness surmounting within him, feeling like he might combust in his seat.
The other boy finally looked away, giving Peter a sense of relief. He did not notice until now that he was one of the last people left in the class, with his books still strewn on the floor.
The feeling of being the last person to be waited on set in Peter’s stomach, looking up apologetically at Mr. Stark, who looked more than ready to leave. Leaving his chair to bend down to collect his books, Peter wished his limbs would move faster.
A pair of stained white Converse and two bare legs appeared before his gaze, which bent down to Peter’s height. Peter looked up from the floor to see a mass of messy, curly hair. The girl was gathering Peter’s books as well, stacking them at twice the speed he was doing.
Recovering from the initial surprise of seeing someone else help, Peter reached for his backpack and fumbled to put the books he gathered inside. The girl stuck out her stack of books towards him, looking up at him, her almond eyes inviting him to take it.
Awkwardly taking the stack from her hands, Peter stuffed it hastily in his bag. Standing up to his full height and slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the girl did the same, smoothing down her corduroy skirt.
“Uh, it’s Michelle, right?” Peter mumbled, recalling the moments when she’d raise her hand whenever the name Michelle was announced during attendance, “Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, it is, but you can just call me MJ,” MJ said, “and don’t sweat it, dude. I’d do anything to kick Flash in the face to be honest.”
Peter’s face felt hot and lowered his gaze after realizing that she had known it was Flash who threw Peter’s books on the floor. MJ noticed this, and immediately began to add on to her comment.
“Look, man, he’s just an asshole,” MJ stated, “Dunno how the hell he has any friends to begin with, he probably treats ‘em like shit too. He’s actual trash, don’t let him bother you that much.”
Peter gave a small nod. As if he hasn’t tried that already.
“Good,” MJ said, “some people are just brain dead, y’know? Anyways, I gotta head home now. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
As MJ turned to leave the classroom , Peter noticed that he was the last student remaining in the class. Realizing that Mr. Stark was probably reaching the limits of his patience, Peter hurriedly walked towards the door, giving Mr. Stark an attempt at a smile, which he was sure turned into just another one of his signature awkward smiles. Mr. Stark did not seem phased at all, returning the gesture with a full on grin, no annoyance detected on his face at all.
Peter squeezed through the sea of people, all heading towards the main entrance. Peter made an effort in quickly getting out of the building, trying his hardest not to push people too harshly, receiving judgemental glares from others around him as he tried to maneuver his way out.
Finally reaching the front doors, which were constantly opened by the bodies pushing past it to go outside, Peter could not be more glad to exit. As the fresh air hit his face, Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Finally- he can go home.
Queens in the afternoon could be uncomfortably hot, as it is the case today. Not long into his walk home, Peter could feel sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. He regretted not checking the weather earlier that morning, as he regarded many pedestrians with tank tops and shorts, sunglasses sitting atop their noses.
Aunt May’s apartment was not terribly far from Midtown High School, being only a ten minute walk. Peter tried to walk under the shade when possible, to give his pale, un-sunscreened skin some sanction.
Seeing Delmar’s in the distance, Peter decided to stop there for a quick drink, hoping he did not forget his wallet today, although he is sure Mr. Delmar does not mind giving him a glass of tap water if so.
Reaching the corner store’s front steps, Peter pushed the door open, a jingle of a bell announcing his entrance.
“Ah! Peter, welcome!” Mr. Delmar greeted cheerily as he saw the teen enter his shop.
“Hello, sir.” Peter said back, giving Mr. Delmar a polite wave as he made his way to the Slurpee machines.
“Ah, it’s so hot today, no?” Mr. Delmar said, “Oh, the cherry one is out of order. Sorry kid, I know that’s your favourite.”
Feeling a tiny bit of disappointment at the sight of the ‘OUT OF ORDER” sign on the machine that used to contain cherry flavoured Slurpee, Peter settled for blue raspberry, taking a cup from the stack and pouring himself the blue drink.
“Say, Fernando!” Mr. Delmar called out to his employee, “¿Por qué no está arreglado?”
Fernando replied in Spanish as well, defending himself as to why the machine is still not fixed. Putting the cap on his now filled cup and taking a straw, Peter made his way to the checkout. Placing it atop the counter, Peter stood there awkwardly, waiting for Mr. Delmar and Fernando’s quarrel to cease.
“Mr. Delmar, please,” Peter said, feeling slightly embarrassed for interrupting, “No es su culpa.”
Mr. Delmar turned around, raising an eyebrow at Peter, before giving a small smile and punching in some numbers into the cash register.
“Very well, I’ll listen to you, Peter,” Mr. Delmar said, “that’ll be one ninety-nine.”
“You know, kid,” Fernando said from the back of the store, “your Spanish is not bad- for a gringo.”
That earned a hearty laugh from Mr. Delmar and Fernando, and Peter couldn’t help but smile too. Handing the money to Mr. Delmar, Peter grabbed his drink and left. Taking out the straw and throwing away the wrapper, Peter said a quick gracias before pushing through the doors.
The instant change from air conditioning to the sweltering heat was not comfortable, prompting Peter to take a large sip from his drink, the crushed ice feeling good as it melted on his tongue. Despite the unbearable heat, Peter knew he didn’t have much longer to walk before arriving at his apartment complex.
Stopping at a crosswalk, Peter waited impatiently for the light to turn green. He started to feel the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, and wished more desperately to be within the gloriously air conditioned confines of his apartment.
It took a few more sips before the light turned green, signalling Peter and all the others around him to cross the street. As he walked across, Peter secretly tried to step on the white stripes each time, despite knowing how fruitless the effort it is.
Stepping onto the new block, Peter knew it wasn’t long before he reached his street. He really wished the elevator was fixed by now, he can’t imagine he could walk up eight flights of stairs now.
“Hey, Parker- that you?” A voice asked from his side.
An overwhelming sense of dread rushed down Peter. He knew that voice from anywhere, it wasn’t long ago when he last heard that appalling sneer. He didn’t stop walking, instead choosing to walk past Flash and his group, keeping his head down in hopes that perhaps Flash will believe he mistook him for someone else. As Peter whizzed past them, a strong scent of smoke hit his nose. The perfume of cigarettes disgusted Peter, scrunching his nose in retaliation.
“Oi- you deaf or something?” Flash shouted out, “Parker, I’m talking to ya. That’s him right?”
Peter heard a couple of sounds in agreement behind him, his heart quickening in pace. Peter knew he was definitely being followed now, stuffing his hands in his jean pocket and trying to quicken his pace. His feet were in protest, but his mind did not care. He needed to get home.
Or perhaps home was a bad idea? Peter suddenly had the frightening thought of Flash and his friends knowing his address. Their antics could be amplified just by knowing where he lived, and Peter doesn’t think he can stand to stay in Queens if that happens.
Peter allowed himself one quick glance back. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, he saw Flash sauntering towards him. On his sides were three of his friends, the two on the right of which he knew very well. Sharing classes since elementary school, Francis and Eddie turned out to be worse than the days when stealing cosmic brownies from Peter’s lunch was a treasonous crime.
The one on the left scares Peter the most. It was the teen with a scar running through his eyebrow, the one that left an unsettling feeling in Peter’s stomach after class. He was taller than the rest of them, undoubtedly broader too. Peter was sure the width of his arms was just about the size of his own head. He hadn’t seen him before, then again it was still Peter’s first year at Midtown. That being said, he has seen most of the students before since he has been living in Queens his entire life.
Knowing he is almost home, Peter hastily decided to not turn towards his apartment building, not wanting them to know where he lived. More importantly, he didn’t want Aunt May to know anything about Flash. For all she knew, he was still Eugene from elementary school.
Peter turned the opposite direction, leading into an alleyway smelling suspiciously of urine. Although shrouded from the sun now, Peter felt a different kind of sweat break out on his skin. Noticing a wall at the end of the alley littered with graffiti, Peter realized he was trapped.
He stopped in his tracks and frantically looked around. He saw what he expected to see; two brick walls. Upon hearing a few chuckles behind him, Peter knew he was expediently screwed. He wished he could somehow climb those damn walls.
“Tsk, you know it’s really rude to ignore people who are trying to talk to you,” Flash tisked, “I think an apology is needed now, Parker.”
Peter remained frozen in place, suddenly realizing just how deep his breathing has become. He can’t turn around, every cell in his body screaming at him to not look back. His grip on his Slurpee cup tightened, fingers digging into the material.
“Jesus, Parker,” Flash jabbed, “you should also look at the person who’s talking to you too.”
Peter’s heart felt like a bomb close to detonation in his chest, his cup now close to crushed in his grip. Eyes jumping around, all he saw was vandalized walls and cigarette butts on the ground.
“Alright boys,” Flash declared, “I think we should give Parker a lesson on manners.”
Peter can hear Francis and Eddie’s chuckles behind him. That was threatening enough for Peter to turn on his heel and face his harassers. He turned around too late, Flash was already advancing towards him. Peter’s first instinct was to back away, his legs suddenly feeling like lead. Flash had a smug look plastered on his face as he reached out, grabbing Peters by the sides of his arms before throwing him on the ground, his cup flying from his hand.
“Oof!” Peter cried.
Peter lost his footing and fell backwards, although his backpack saved his back from some of the impact, his tailbone still hurt. Before Peter could have a chance to push himself back up, Flash kicked Peter on his side.
Peter cried out, already thinking a bruise was already forming. He could hear Francis and Eddie’s howls getting louder as they advanced. Flash kicked him again, and the pain doubled.
“This is what faggots get, Parker!” Francis shouted as he joined in, kicking Peter on his other side.
Peter cried out louder than before. He could feel his eyes starting to sting, but willed himself not to cry. He would not allow them the satisfaction. He tried to roll over and crawl away, only for another foot to kick him back down.
“Alright, I think that’s enough.” A voice said from behind Peter.
Peter realized it belonged the boy who he did not know. He also realized that he had not joined in on beating him.
“Wha- why are you defending this fag, Wilson?” Eddie queried.
“I mean, c’mon,” the other boy said, “he’s a fucking twig. You kick him again and he’ll probably burst a lung or somethin’”
“That’s no reason to stop.” Flash stated.
He kicked him again, this time in the side of his face. Peter could taste the metallic taste of blood form in his mouth, a bad mixture with the blue raspberry taste that still lingered in his mouth. His tongue ran over the cut in his mouth, grimacing in pain as he did so. He squeezed his eyes shut as they threatened to spill tears, praying for this to end.
“Seriously, Eugene, I think that’s en-” the other boy started to say.
“Excuse me? What the fuck, Wilson,” Flash interrupted, his voice rising, “you might be new here, but lemme make this clear. Never call me Eugene. Ever again. O-”
“Hey!” A voice called out from far away, this time a female voice, “Let him go!”
Peter heard running, catching his breath as the kicking stopped for a moment as his abusers focused their attention at the little woman running towards them. Peter heard chuckles exchanged between the two, but stopped before he heard a noise of pain coming out one of the boys.
Peter opened his eyes and saw Francis doubled over, hand rubbing the side of his face, which was red. He looked over at who caused it, and saw MJ from chemistry class- only this time she wore a snarling look on her face.
Before Francis could do anything, MJ punched him in the gut with an alarming amount of force, causing Francis to fall to his knees. Before any of the other two boys can react, MJ was already on Eddie, pushing him against a wall and bringing her knee up to his groin, causing Eddie to make a noise that was three octaves higher than his normal voice.
She turned towards Flash, her brown eyes on fire. She slung her backpack from her shoulders and swung, hitting Flash in the head. Flash doubled over, moving away from Peter. Before Flash could retaliate, MJ already reached into her bag, retrieving a canister. Pointing it towards Flash, who was glaring at her, she pressed down.
The spray hit Flash’s eyes, making him scream out in pain. His hands moved to cover his eyes, but was too afraid to rub them. Flash kept spewing out profanities while Francis and Eddie were still groaning from their beatings.
MJ spit on the ground, stuffing the pepper spray back in her bag before turning towards Peter. Her eyes softened, reaching out her hand. Peter slowly reached out towards her. MJ grabbed his hand immediately, her grip stronger than his by tenfold. MJ glared at Wilson, who only stood leaning against a wall. Wilson looked at MJ neutrally, letting her know that he means no harm.
When Peter stood face to face with her, he could see the strands of curly hair tumbling down her face. She moved to slick them back, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Peter. She lead Peter out of the alleyway, the sunlight making Peter’s eyes uncomfortable.
“Where do you live?” MJ asked. Peter pointed a shaking finger forwards at the apartment building across the street.
“Okay, let’s get you h-”
MJ stopped her sentence as she heard sniffs. She looked at Peter, hand reaching up for his shoulder as she saw him try desperately not to burst into tears.
Peter couldn’t help it. It wasn’t the pain that was causing the tears. It was the embarrassment. How easy he let them get to him. He was so stupid. His sniffs become louder as he choked back the tears. It was getting too much.
MJ pulled him close, letting his face burrow into her shoulder as he began to sob.