Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t want to be at this party, he really didn’t. He didn’t like crowds and he didn’t like not knowing what people thought of him. His finger tips twitched in search of the mask that wasn’t there, the mask that kept him protected. May never ceased to to tell him that she feared that Spider-man would take over his life, his school work, that he was stressed out because of his late-night work as a vigilante and that it was making him more anxious than usual.

What she didn’t know was that his suit was the one thing that kept him from spiralling. It made him feel warm and protected because he knew everyone would see him as a hero instead of a scrawny, 15-year-old kid with little money and little talent. No-one had to know that that was all he was.

But Mr. Stark had asked him to come to this «party» to form connections with well-known people and their children and that as SI’s only personal intern he had to attend. He was terrified that if he didn’t go, the press would speculate and there would be consequences. Mr. Stark had told him a lot about possible scenarios and he certainly believed him. He shuddered, suddenly recalling the headlines the press had already come up with:

 
HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT WORKING FOR STARK INDUSTRIES?

STRANGE HAPPENINGS AT STARK INDUSTRIES

or worse:

TONY STARK’S SECRET SON?

 
Secretly though, he thought that Mr. Stark just didn’t like frequenting these types of parties alone, which was unavoidable when Mrs. Potts was away on business trips. Peter knew that people at «parties» like these could be fraudulent and money-hungry even when they had enough money to feed an entire state for a year. At least, that’s what May told him and he didn’t dare question her when she got into one of those moods about saving the world and how people were being reckless and selfish.

Then again, she worked at a hospital so she probably saw the victims of those types of situations very often. Human trafficking victims, mentally ill people who could not get treatment, young people in pain that couldn’t afford medical treatment. Then seeing those same young people a year later, addicted to pain-killers.
It definitely explained her apprehension towards Mr. Stark. Still, she never expressed anything but immense gratitude towards his efforts to keep Peter safe during patrol.

"…ter, kid. Remember to stay quiet. If anyone starts to imply that you are anything but my intern, smile and act like they were making a…"

"-Huh?"

Mr Stark frowned and snapped his fingers dangerously close to Peter’s face. 

"Have you even been listening to what I have been trying to tell you for the past fifteen minutes?"

"I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’ve just been-"

"Tony!", a guy in a suit exclaimed, champagne in hand, using his glass to motion them to come closer.

Tony sighed disappointedly, probably because Peter had avoided a lecture, and then smiled in a way only those who were close to him knew was fake, approaching Edward and the teenager standing next to him. Peter followed him, well aware that he was following the man around like a lost puppy. But he couldn't help it - he didn't know anyone else at the party.

"Edward! This is my intern, Peter Parker"

Mr. Stark motioned towards Peter, his hands slow and steady. Peter wished his movements could be like that. Be steady, have purpose. Another reason he loved having the mask on. When he was Spider-Man he could pretend that he actually knew what he was doing. When he was Spider-Man Peter Parker was simply a fantasy. A sad one, at that.

Mr. Stark’s friend, Edward, had a curious but charming look on his face.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. Oh, and this is my son, David"

"Nice to meet you, sir", Peter said. 

The slightly dishevelled-looking guy next to Edward, now introduced to Peter as Edward’s son, merely nodded approvingly. Even though he was wearing a suit, his curls were frizzy and untamed, the slightly crazed look in his eyes not helping his case. 

Edward, David’s father, pointedly cleared his throat.

The boy remained silent, rolling his eyes at his father. 

"Charming, David. Splendid. You’ve learnt a lot in boarding school. I’m so sorry, you know how it is, teenagers", Mr. Stark’s friend apologized profusely. He looked angry. 

"Yes, I do know", Mr Stark said, side-eyeing Peter.

Peter shyly smiled at David who looked equally uncomfortable.

He wanted to talk to David. But as much as he wanted to appear fun and entertaining in front of his new acquaintance, the lump in his throat would not let him speak a word.

After about five to ten minutes of Mr. Stark and his friend catching up on business and family, Edward pulled Mr. Stark aside to introduce him to a bigger group of people.

Peter took a sudden interest in his shoes as him and David were left to their own devices.

"So, Peter", David said, "Want to have some fun?"

“Fun how?”

”I am really bored by this party. Aren’t you as well? You look like you want to crawl out of your own skin”

"Umm", Peter looked downwards. His shoes were brand-new, vegan leather, a gift from Mr. Stark’s tailor, just like his suit. 

“I guess so. Is it that obvious?”

"Well", the other boy smirked, “It isn’t hard if you’re observant”

"Hey, kid"

As Mr. Stark suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, the two of them jumped up.

"Sorry, David, I’m going to have to steal him from you for a little while. Stay right here"

David shrugged,

"I’m not going anywhere"

After Mr. Stark had introduced him to about a million people, whose faces Peter would never be able to remember, Mr. Stark led him to the spot where David was still leaning against the wall, wearing a smug look on his face.

"You’re back"

Mr. Stark focused all his attention on Peter.

"Alright, kid. Me and Edward are going to go and discuss with Elon Musk’s representative about some future projects of mine. Happy will drive you home, you guys stay safe. Remember to be home by midnight, it’s a school night and I don’t want to get in trouble with Aunt Hottie"

Mr. Stark winked at his protégé and got lost in the crowd. Peter rolled his eyes at his mentor’s last remark.

Then he slowly turned around and remembered what had transpired seconds before. 

Suddenly filled with a new-found confidence he didn’t know he had, Peter asked David.

"You mentioned having fun? I’m up for that"

David’s whole demeanor changed from smug to something else, something Peter couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"Alright then. But not here"

Chapter Text

The lights were blinding, «Champagne Supernova» was drowning out any other sounds there might have been. Peter was sure that the volume that the speakers to his right and left were set to was breaking some kind of law. Whenever David glanced at him though, he smiled and did a little dance. He didn’t want David to think he was some kind of loser who didn’t know how to have have a good time.

He looked up to the ceiling to see the fluorescent lights move in and out of each other’s pathways. With how much skin everyone was showing he knew he was overdressed. Not only that but everybody’s clothes were sparkly, shiny, interesting and he felt rather dull wearing his black suit that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. He must have looked like a black streak in the middle of a rainbow.

What struck him more though was this: David looked normal. The frizz of his curls was lit up by the same lights as the ceiling was, which made the messiness look intentional and in style. Sparks passing through his eyes made the dangerous look in them seem exciting and present instead of bored and detached. In short: Everything that made him stand out in the outside world made him fit in in that club. He was in his element. Just like Ethanol in water.

Peter tensed up as David walked up to the bar to ask for some vodka like he wasn’t 16. He felt more like Teflon.

"Hey man, do you have some Clarity for me and my friend?"

"That depends. Do you have the money?"

"Yeah, of course I do"

"Are you sure that your friend’s up for it? He looks a little green", the bartender laughed.

"Look, man, I’m 21", David pulled up his wallet to show an ID that only Peter knew was entirely fake, "You either have the stuff or you don’t"

Just as David made the move to pull away, visibly annoyed, the bartender grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back in.

Peter started sweating as he realized that Clarity didn’t mean what he had thought it meant at all. It wasn’t vodka. His confidence faded away as quickly as it had arrived.

"Alright, alright, don’t sweat it. You know I’m just joking around here. I’ve got 100 for each of you. That’ll be 50"

The bartender slid something over the counter, David handed over the fifty-dollar bill and that was it.

David gave Peter a sign to go to the toilets and he reluctantly agreed. After waiting in line for about five minutes they found an empty stall. The girl that had emerged from the stall gave them a weird look but quickly rushed off, her ponytail swaying in the rhythm of her footsteps.

Peter suddenly felt a lot calmer, more clear-headed being cramped into that empty cubicle, where there wasn’t glitter and party lights everywhere. The stall reeked of urine and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time, yet he felt relatively okay compared to how he felt out there. It was all too much, too different, too loud.

David opened up his palm to show his treasure. Two green pills.

"Uh…What is this?", Peter asked really loudly.

David shushed him and whispered,
"It’s just some Ecstasy, nothing to worry about. It’ll make the whole experience more enjoyable"

He swallowed one of the pills, watching Peter expectantly.

Peter took the remaining pill in his hand and put it up to his mouth. He quickly put it back into David’s palm.

"Wait, I can’t do this"

"Of course. I’m sorry, I knew it. I knew you were too young for this"

"No, I’m not. I just don’t want to do it"

"Are you sure? It seems to me like you’re just scared of what daddy will think"

"He’s not my dad. Besides, I’m 15. I can do anything I want to do. If I wanted to take this drug, which I don’t, I could"

David gave him a stern look, put the pill into his palm and said

"Prove it"

Peter swallowed it dry.

"Ewww, this tastes disgusting"

"Shh"

"Sorry", Peter laughed. He couldn’t believe what he had just done.

This wasn’t so bad, why hadn’t he tried this before? His legs felt wobbly from all the stress, so he sat on David’s lap who had sat down on the closed toilet seat. And why had he put himself through so much stress trying to avoid them? Drugs were fine, he couldn’t even feel their effects. Maybe it was a Spider-Man thing. Yes, definitely a Spider-Man thing.

He could hear David letting out quiet snorts behind him.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Sorry, it’s just first-timers, they always get me"

They sat there quietly for another ten minutes before David poked Peter’s head with his finger..

"Come on, Pete, get up. Can’t sit in here all day"

Peter didn’t feel ready yet to face the outside world again but he reluctantly agreed.

As he stumbled out of the cubicle, he felt a sudden warmth. He knew it was cold outside but he felt…light. Weird. David had said it would take at least half an hour for the drug to kick in. As they went back to the dance-floor, he felt the sudden urge to touch ponytail girl’s hair. It just looked so…real and like it was floating. It wasn’t held down by gravity like the world was. Always held down by gravity. But her hair just seemed to defy it. He wished he could be her ponytail. Floating in the air, time- and weightless. He didn’t want to deal with stress and grades and growing up all the time. He just wanted peace. She was pretty.

"I LOVE THIS SONG", Peter yelled.

"Huh?", David asked, dancing with ponytail girl, "I can’t hear you"

"Hey, man, thank you so much for talking me into this! This feels amazing!", Peter screamed.

What was he talking about before? The lights were GLOWING. They transcended time and space. The night would never end. It was infinite because he was infinite. Him and David could be infinite together.

Chapter Text

That morning, Peter was mortal.

BEEEEEEEEPP

First of all: Why was his head hurting? Right, the pill.

He glanced at his alarm clock.

The numbers on his alarm clock looked weird, like they didn’t belong there. He couldn’t explain it but something just felt off. His life shouldn’t be dictated by random numbers that a lonesome Indian guy had invented.

He could still remember how amazed he was at the club lights. How mesmerizing they had looked. But these lights were burning, they hurt. The green felt like it was burning a hole into his skull. He felt sick.

The rest of the room was plunged into darkness, so he stumbled over his laptop cable and turned on the light switch. Bad decision. Bad, bad decision. He had to get dressed blindly so he grabbed his jeans and a shirt and bolted out of the room.

Breakfast was calm, peaceful. His throat felt sore, therefore he was glad that Aunt May was on night shift duty. He didn’t want to raise any suspicions. If she ever found about this she would be so mad at him. He was supposed to be the perfect nephew and this was not supposed to happen. He could never let her find out about the things that he had done.

He enjoyed the silence.

While he was stepping out from the apartment building, first glimpses of sunlight made their way through the white sheets covering the sky. The orange leaves on the cars and ground were starting to disappear. He wondered where they went. He wished he could be like them. Just disappear.

Being engulfed by the daily flow of working-class people he thought back to his childhood. Him and Ned used to play on these streets. May and Uncle Ben didn’t like it but he loved testing out the mini cars he made from cardboard and metal scraps with the help of his best friend. They used controllers and motherboards made from toys that rich kids gave away to local charity shops for free and watched their hard work pay off, enjoying the annoyed looks that the local residents gave them when they passed by.

Once he had walked past the subway sliding doors, he grabbed a handrail. He was well-aware of how dirty these things were but if there was anything worse than touching that many germs on any given day it was falling over in a room full of people.

He put his earphones in and let «Colombia» by «Local Natives» calm the never-ending buzzing and screaming around him.

At lunch, Peter had to resist covering his ears with his hands or putting in his earbuds. He pulled out his phone to look at his contacts, to pretend he was doing something useful.

MJ

MAY

GUY IN A CHAIR ❤️

MR STARK

DAVID FARBER

He could not remember writing the last one down. Maybe David took his phone and wrote it down himself, maybe Peter did and he just couldn’t remember it. With nothing else to do, Ned still stuck doing laps due to a relentlessly pushy gym teacher, MJ probably off sketching people somewhere else, he started typing:

MJ slammed her lunch tray down onto the table and sat down next to him.

 "What are you doing, nerd?"         Why was she yelling?

Her voice felt like nails on a chalkboard and Peter physically jumped up.

"Woah, Peter. Why are you being weird?", MJ gave him a worried look.

"I’m not being weird, why are you?", Peter cleared his throat. He could vaguely remember screaming David Bowie lyrics sometime around 3AM. He slowly sat back down.

 "Whatever", MJ sighed and started inspecting the inexplicable mush that the lunch ladies called potato salad. Peter loved her. He loved the fact that she let him be when he needed to be left alone.

He suppressed a yawn, glancing at his phone. The screen was so badly cracked that it was barely usable but he didn’t mind. David didn’t text back. Which was probably for the best, as he didn’t know how to break it to David that he would never, EVER do something like that ever again.

Someone was attempting to balance a pen on the edge of the table right next him and it was messing with his head. What was school for, anyway? He could learn all of these things at home.

"Peter", Ned waved, making his way over to their table, his hair looking freshly washed, presumably because he had showered.

He immediately felt better, warmer in the presence of his best friend. He remembered why going to school was valuable in the first place. Being able to learn and study with his friends was so much more fun and stimulating than being stuck at home, like he was on the week-ends.

He didn’t deserve friends like Ned and MJ. Then again, he wished he had more friends. What was wrong with him?

The rest of the school day passed by in a blur.

On the way home, he felt his phone buzzing. Surely, it was MJ again. He didn’t want to debate feminism in the late 1950s again, he just wanted to sle-

What was he supposed to say to that? He slid his phone back into his pocket. His heart started pounding, faster than it had been before. What had he gotten himself into? And how had he never realized how suffocating subways actually were? They were literally underground. Taking deep breaths, he tried to remember that he had taken the subway almost every day of his life and nothing bad had happened so far. 

1…2…3…

--

«PETER?»

"Yes?", he said, gripping the front door frame of their apartment,  the weight of his backpack suddenly feeling much greater.

"Come here", warily, he walked towards his room to find his aunt staring at him with a look of worry and fury in her eyes at the same time. How was that even possible?

"Why is your room such a mess? I called Mr. Stark and he told me Happy didn’t drive you home last night, who were you with? I thought that we had agreed on midnight?"

It dawned on Peter that his nightly escapade wouldn’t be that easy to hide at all.

"I’m so sorry, aunt May, me and David talked all night and I completely forgot about Happy. David called a cab, you know, they’re all rich. I missed my alarm this morning, so I got dressed in a hurry"

In reality, he didn’t even know how he got home. He was surprised he could string logical sentences together at that point.

"Peter Benjamin Parker…", May sighed, "We’re a team, remember? I can’t do this without you! Just…clean up your room", with that being said, May slammed the door behind her and moments later he could hear the TV being turned on.

Sighing, putting his backpack on the floor next to his desk and admiring the view of the sunset, he felt a moment of clarity. Going to a party with rich kids didn’t sound bad at all. He would just tell David that he didn’t want to do Clarity or whatever.

No, never mind, he wouldn’t go, it wasn’t his «scene». But it was good to know that in case he got bored he would have something to do.

He grabbed his suit and jumped out of the window, the thrill of the chase catching up with him. He finally felt like himself again.

It was a beautiful night.

Three more days until Friday.

«Peter? I’m so sorry, you know I love you», May closed the door behind her.

Peter awoke, startled. But the door was closed.

Chapter Text

Peter was listening to «Iron Man» by «Black Sabbath», his left hand nervously fiddling with the cable of his earphones. He had stayed at school way too long to finish a presentation on thermodynamics and its applications. He had assigned himself most of the work - the project was a group effort and he didn’t want to be the one pulling the others down. Now, he was paying the price. He hated this, he hated that he felt unsafe in his own neighborhood as soon as the sun set. He knew that most of his classmates could not relate, that they didn’t collect scholarship money every month in the form of books and supplies for school. Then again, he knew that he was incredibly lucky to even get a quality higher education. All of his old friends from preschool would jump at the opportunities he was getting. 

The song playing through his speakers made him chuckle. He knew it was way too old to be written about Tony Stark but it was still funny to think about. If his mentor knew he was listening to that song, he would give him another lecture. But he genuinely liked that song. Besides, he had started listening to it way before he knew Mr. Stark personally. Well, as personal as Mr. Stark could get.

"Peter? Peter Parker?", a bald-headed, 30- to 40-year-old man stopped Peter dead in his tracks. He pulled out one earphone. He really didn’t want to take out even one earphone but that man knew his name and he needed to know why. It physically hurt to remove what shielded him from the outside world.

"H-how do you know me?"

"Paradise Club? You were with David, the skinny kid? You are quite the dancer!"

Oh…

"You want something? I got all kinds, uppers, downers, you name it"

"Um, I don’t know", Peter stepped closer. He wasn’t going to buy anything, he just wanted to see what the man was talking about. Besides, he was starting to remember bits and pieces. He could remember an intense feeling of warmth and comfort, trust towards the bald-headed guy, David and the world. Like what he felt when the police showed up in time to prevent a robbery or when he saw the story on the news about that girl speaking in sign language to a deaf-blind man to keep him company on a lonely airplane. Basically whenever he was reminded there was goodness, structure in the world.

"How about an addie?"

Peter knew that the guy meant Adderall. He had heard Flash talk about it during recess, how it helped him study and that because of his ADHD he couldn’t focus without it. Peter could just buy it and then not take it. Keep it just in case he needed something to help him study harder, just like it helped Flash. Besides, if it was prescribed to someone in his grade then it couldn’t be so bad for him either? Even if that person was an asshole.

"You got any money on you, kid?"

Peter just stared at the man, too perplexed to answer. Of course it cost money to buy drugs. This was not David and his perfect connections. And how come he had called him a kid, was it so obvious that he was not 18 yet?

«Oh, come on, do not stare at me like that. I know a boy pretending to be a man when I see it. So, have you got 50 bucks?»

Peter shook his head. That was too expensive. He wanted to leave. He was seriously scared by the fact that his past self had just walked into an alleyway with a guy he didn’t even really know. And to what end?

The guy looked at him like he was considering something.

«That’s alright. No, that is alright. There are other ways of paying me», the guy stepped closer and grabbed Peter’s crotch.

Peter felt himself go cold. Like the entire world had turned to ice and his heart was affected.  He whispered

«I’ve got to go»,

and he ran. He ran for one block. Then, he stopped feeling his legs. He grabbed the tree next to him and threw up onto it. He fell to the concrete floor and started sobbing. He started pulling at his curls, trying to do anything to escape that horrible feeling. Everything started to jumble together, into one, piercing sound.

«Hey, kid, are you alright?»

«C’mon, Rosa, leave him alone. He’s just a kid, probably sad because he can’t find his mommy»

They didn’t look much older than he was but Peter wasn’t going to comment on faulty judgment, being in the state that he was.

«I know, but he looks sick. Looks like he needs some medicine. Want some?»

Peter finally noticed the bottle in the girl, Rosa’s, hand, wrapped up in a brown paper bag. That explained why they were just sitting on the ground like that, stagnant even though the air was chilly, making everyone’s breaths appear like dragon breath. And in that moment, he knew that he needed some warmth, anything to keep him company even if it was the company of strangers. Everything was better than that sinking feeling he could not escape otherwise.

At least, alcohol was a natural disinfectant. He got that going for him. He chugged the bottle. He made a face but he swallowed. His throat was burning and he liked it. He deserved the pain.

«Hey guys, the kid took it»

«He drank it»

«Whaat»

Peter couldn’t feel any effects yet so he took another sip. Still nothing.

«Hey, guys, thank you so much but I can’t even feel anything», he held onto the railing behind him.

The others, there were about four or five them (he couldn’t tell anymore, how hilarious was that) started giggling. He assumed they were laughing at his inability to get drunk.

Oh, things started to look distorted, out of place. He felt smarter and dumber at the same time. He took a large sip. It stopped burning. Then, he started to feel nothing. He liked that feeling a lot. It made the colors and sounds seem distant and bearable, not so distracting. He could focus on more than one thing at a time without a care in the world. It was very different from Clarity but it made him feel much better. It was not as imposing.

«I’m not even drunk»,

Peter said to no-one in particular and dropped his head in his lap. He wanted to lift it up and to look at the beautiful trees surrounding him but he felt too numb and funny to do so. Someone, probably Rosa, started to rub his back, presumably to check if he was still breathing.

«Okay, you’ve had enough»

She took the brown paper bag way from him. He wanted it back but he felt like if he said anything it would come out weird. So he stayed silent and tried to stop his head from spinning.

«Aren’t you supposed to be at school anyways?», one of the guys said. He had black, fluffy hair and a serene smile on his face.

«Aren’t you?»

Rosa nodded,

«Fair point, kid»

«What school do you go to?», another guy asked. His face looked weird but Peter managed to remember,

«Midtown School of Science and Technology»

«Woah, so you’re one of those really smart kids then»

«Uh, yeah, I think I’m really dumb though», Peter started giggling.

«Well, at least you don’t think you’re better than us like the rest of them», the other girl interjected.

Peter smiled. He felt understood.

«Peter, buddy. What’s wrong?»

«I don’t want you to lea-eave», Peter hiccuped, «Plea-ease don’t leave, Uncle Ben»

«Buddy, you know I have to. How will May buy the ingredients for her famous spaghetti bolognese if I don't get to go to work? The important thing is that I’ll always come back. Always for you, kid»

«P-promise?»

«Promise»

Two more days until Friday.

Chapter Text

Grey lockers were opening and closing, a quiet hum in the air. The hubbub of laughter and shouting got increasingly louder. Peter ruffled his curls to make sure they were voluminous and did not stick to his forehead. It was 7AM.

"Peter, dude!"

"Hey, dude. What have you been up to?", Peter asked like every morning. The answer was usually LEGOS or Astronomy. He liked that about Ned. He was consistent.

"I got the Apollo 11 Lunar Lander LEGO set off of Ebay for only 40 dollars. I brought it with me, look",

Ned opened his backpack to reveal his treasure,

"Since Mr Harrington is sick, we could use the free periods to see how much we can build"

"What? Ned, that is so awesome!", Peter could feel the excitement rushing in. Most of Ned’s parents’ «spare» money usually went towards his tuition, and absolutely all of May’s money went towards rent, food and public transport. That did not leave a lot of pocket money between him and his best friend, so this was exceptionally exciting.

"So what did you do last night? I couldn’t reach you. I wanted to discuss The Flash with you!"

"Um…you know me, I went straight home and did my homework"

"Ah", Ned hesitated, "but you watched the new Flash episode, no?"

"Of course I did", Peter allowed himself a small smile.

"Well, what did you think of the cross-over?"

"I’m not sure"

"Yeah, me neither, I mean…"

They took a seat right when the teacher walked in. Peter was thrilled and wary at the same time. He loved Chem lab but he was still not feeling at a hundred percent of his intellectual capacities. He should never have taken that pill. He debated on telling Ned but he quickly became aware that if Ned knew, he would freak out and that was unnecessary. It was in the past, he needed to move on. So, he moved on.

…

"Hey, that piece fits right there"

"Peter"

"Peter!"

"PETER!"

…

"Huh? Sorry, I must have zoned out"

Peter could not stop drifting off. Still, he enjoyed putting the pieces together. Solving a mystery. He loved this, finally having some free time with Ned like they used to have all the time.

After they were about halfway through the build, he checked his phone to see what time it was.

"What? Ned, it’s 11:30! You know I need to work on my presentation!"

He had agreed to work on a new prototype with Mr. Stark on Saturday, so it was absolutely crucial that he got most of his school work done before that. He could not do everything in one day, he had tried.

"Come on, Peter, the main part is almost done, we could finish it today if we eat lunch quick!"

And Peter knew it was wrong, knew he had other things to do.

"Come ooon, Peter. You know it’s worth it!"

Well, whatever, he would just divide and conquer in the evening. It would be fine.

"Okay, yes"

«Yesss», Ned looked ecstatic.

He would be fine.

--

Balancing an apple in the palm of his left hand, Peter sighed.

He tapped his pen against the table, debating on how he was going to get everything done, condemning his past self for having fun when he should have been working. It was already five in the afternoon and he needed to get a decent amount of sleep or he would be no use at school. He took a bite of his apple.

There was a quick knock and May opened his bedroom door.

"Peter? I made the dinner reservation for seven, so be ready by ten to. We don’t want to keep Alfredo waiting, you know he will just give our table to someone else"

Oh, no! He groaned. Of course that was today of all days. Of course he had forgotten, he was useless: Their monthly dinner at «Acquista Trattoria». Normally he loved their tradition but on days where his schedule was so tightly packed that it suffocated him to even think about it, a tradition just felt like another thing on his to-do list.

Scrap that, May worked hard to earn them a honest living and implement traditions like these. That meant that he could not skip out on them even if he suffered. He had to go and pretend everything was normal while still getting all of his homework and studying done before the weekend.

He needed to be work fast, then. Be speedy. He knew what he had to do:

It was bold, he knew it was stupid, but he had no other choice. He needed to finish that presentation and Spanish homework, English literature in time and go to dinner with Aunt May. He could not let the fact that he had taken one pill affect his academic performance.  If he had gotten it wrong and Rosa did not have access to drugs, he would be in trouble. Although she did not seem like the type of girl to snitch. He had seen her drink underage so maybe not. Maybe she would keep his secret. He grabbed a pillow and sat down on his twin bed, nervously chewing on his nails.

Five minutes later, a silent ping made him jump up.

Suddenly, he felt an urge to throw his phone across the room.  He could not do it. He could not be that guy. He had promised himself. He did not break promises.

Besides, buying those pills probably meant using up all of his savings and he needed those in case things got tight with rent, gas, anything, if he wrecked yet another backpack but did not want to bother Mr. Stark, his mentor, about it. Certainly not May. She could never know that he willingly put himself in danger on a regular basis:

He hesitated. If it was free then there was really no harm in at least accepting the offer. Growing up with money being tight, he knew that stowing away free things never meant any harm. Maybe he could even keep the pills for another time when he really needed them. Before his finals, for example.

"I’m going out for a bit, my head feels like it is going to explode", he walked past May on his way out.

"Okay", May said. She was watching the news.

"Wait, Peter, take a jacket with you-", but he was already gone.

--

Stepping outside his apartment complex, he could feel his hands starting to shake. He got the irrational feeling that everyone was watching him, that they knew. That the old Polish lady that sometimes knocked on their door in the middle of the night was actually a disguised Russian spy, just waiting to catch him out on what he was doing - er, planning to do.

It took some time to find the spot where he had ran to the day before because of - no, not that again, that never happened - but finally he saw Rosa’s bleached shock of hair. They shook hands.

"Peter", she smiled, "I did not expect to see you again so quickly but I’ll take it"

He stared at her, unable to get a word out.

"So, in a few moments I am going to give you a quick hug and slip the pills into your front pocket. For future reference: You will do the same thing with future payments. Into my front pocket, so we do not raise suspicions. After the hug, you will wave goodbye and walk away, understood?"

Peter nodded. He understood.

They hugged and with a small pack of pills in his jacket, Peter waved goodbye, feeling a bit uneasy because seeing Rosa in a sober state made him think of what had happened the day before. Rosa pulled him back in to whisper one last thing. Her hand resting on his shoulder felt like a thousand ants were crawling across his skin.

"Peter? Anything you need, I can get you. You can always come to me"

Something dawned on Peter:

"Wait, you sell drugs? I thought your friend did"

For the first time, Rosa looked a bit uneasy, almost ashamed.

"He does. I do too. The stuff is mine, I just didn’t want you to be scared or pull back"

Peter had no time to dwell on the morality of drug dealing because the pills felt like they were burning a hole into his pocket and he knew May was expecting him to be back soon. Besides, his moral compass was on as loose grounds as anyone’s. Even if the pills were for a good cause.

"Thank you for the offer and the free stuff, Rosa, but I will not be needing any more favors. I just needed these because school is a bit stressful at the moment. I would never do this normally"

"You say that", she scoffed, "but you chugged that rum like it was your day job"

"Just a one-off", she yelled to no-one in particular, "sure"

Peter did not even want to respond because it seemed ridiculous that she would make assumptions about him needing pills in the future when she did not know him at all or how hard he worked, so he just left. One conversation they could hardly remember and suddenly she thought she knew his life? Pathetic. He had a group project to organize.

--

"Peter? We should go", May yelled from the kitchen.

"Sorry guys, I have to sign off now but I do think we have everything planned?"

Everyone in his group nodded.

"Okay, then, talk to you guys on Monday. We’ll rehearse at lunch"

—

"A special pizza fatta in casa for my special friends"

"Thank you, Alfredo", Peter smiled.

He smiled thankfully at Aunt May but she looked like she was deep in thought. Alfredo tactfully moved on to another table.

"Aunt May?"

"I have been meaning to apologize for the way that I acted. Things have been stressful at work"

"May, it’s fine-"

"No, it is not fine, I took it out on you and I’m sorry. Forgive me"

Peter contemplated it for a few seconds.

"It’s okay, I know you have a lot on your plate", he smiled shyly.

May moved her hand across the table and squeezed his tightly.

"Tomorrow night we’ll watch a movie together, just the two of us, hm? How about we watch that goofy show you like?"

"STAR TREK?"

"Yes, that one"

"Aunt May, Star Trek is not goofy, Spock is extremely intelligent and a perfect example how in many ways, in research or otherwise, human emotions are holding us back!"

"So, in what way are your emotions holding you back?"

Peter lowered his gaze. Wow, she was good. He had not meant to let that slip.

"I just meant that", he muttered, "emotions do no good when trying to achieve the things that you want in life"

"No. Peter. Peter? That is not good. That is not good! If you ever feel overwhelmed, you come talk to me, okay? You can not hold the bad things in, they will consume you"

Peter felt himself choking up.

"I just feel like…I am not actually smart and I am just fooling everyone. Like they will think less of me once they realize that I am just ordinary"

"There is nothing, nothing wrong with being ordinary, you hear me? But you have always been smart, me and your uncle always knew that. Your parents would be proud of you. They are proud of you"

"You don’t know that"

"No, I do. And you better know it too. Okay?"

Peter nodded.

"You sure? Because I will tell you until you believe me. They are proud of you. They are proud of you. THEY ARE-"

"Yes, alright, May, stop", he cut her off amusedly, finally feeling like himself again. That sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach stopped.

Back home, he said a quick goodnight to May, his stomach feeling full and his head feeling sleepy. He could definitely not study for more than two hours without passing out. He yawned. It was settled, then. He needed the help.

He walked back to front door where his jacket was and took out the pack of pills. He kept looking if there was anyone behind him but May had probably fallen right asleep.

He walked into his room and closed the door. Sadly, May had gotten rid of all the keys a long time ago. He would just have to be careful.

He carved out two of the eight pills, put the remaining six under his mattress and just stared at the drugs in his hands. He felt like he was slightly more awake already.

Was he really going to do this? The last pill that he had taken had ruined everything.

But this was different from the Ecstasy, it would better his performance.

He poured himself a glass of water and swallowed the two. Two, because he wanted the effects of them to last long enough in spite of his fast metabolism. He had a lot to do after all and he required more than the average human being. Maybe it would not work on him at all. In that case, it was probably a sign that he should not do it and he would find a better way.

He waited. After a couple of minutes he felt ready and got to work.

He had not felt so confident about his work since before he went to Midtown. Now, he knew that he was definitely the best and smartest student in the entire school.

Maybe the lights were a bit brighter than usual and some of his thoughts made too much sense for him to handle but it was nothing bad. Because the thoughts that were not jumbled together were cohesive and were getting work done that he had been procrastinating for weeks. Also, it kept him awake. He just needed to be smart about it. Also, Flash took adderall every day. So, it was probably healthy.

At about 3 AM, he sank into his pillowcase and after listening to his heart beat slower and slower, he fell into a deep slumber.

He opened his eyes two nightmares later, awake and afraid.

"Peter? Peter, what’s wrong?", startled, Peter looked up, right into May’s concerned, warm, loving face.

"N-nothing. I thought you were…gone", Peter started sniffling, tears seeming inevitable.

May pulled him into a hug.

"Oh, honey, no. It’s okay. How about a glass of warm milk? You can tell me all about your dream"

She dragged him into the kitchen, seated him at the kitchen table and pointed at the fridge:

"Oat milk?"

"Yes, please"

She boiled them both a glass of milk and put it on the table.

"So, what happened in your dream?"

Peter loved this, it took him back to earlier memories, moments when Ben was still alive.

"I honestly can’t remember"

May sighed.

"So, you woke me up for this? Peter Benjamin Parker!",

she sounded stern but the spark in her eyes said something different.

After a few sips, Peter realized that he needed to tell her.

"May?"

"Hm?"

"I’m sorry"

«Sorry for what, honey?»

And Peter did not want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment, one that he had been missing and said:

"I’ll tell you tomorrow"

They drank their milk and then both went to bed, his heart heavy.

It was settled, in the morning he would tell her about the Ecstasy. Maybe even about the drinking.

One more day until Friday

The stranger grabbed him against his will.

He felt cold, ice cold. He could not breathe. How had he let someone do that to him?

Chapter Text

When Peter woke up the next morning, he finally felt lighter. Groggy, tired, but his chest felt less concave. He rubbed his eyes and hated the fact they burned. He did not want to feel the pain of the past anymore, he just wanted to live.

 
He took a shower and loved the way in which the water drops dripped down the small of his back. A wave of negativity overcame him. He put his head against the shower wall and wallowed in his sadness. He felt real. Reality hurt but maybe it was time to confront it.

 
When arriving in the kitchen, he noticed that May was not there. In fact, she had not made him breakfast. He sighed. It was a luxury, of course, but a tradition that he appreciated nonetheless. Friday was the one morning in the week where she did not have to work and making him breakfast was her way of telling him that she loved him. At least, he had always understood it in that way.

He found a note on the table:

 
Buongiorno, angelino

Mariana is sick so I have to fill in

for her today.

There’s bananas in the fridge

Love, May
 

Peter sighed. Yesterday had been so amazing and now he missed May already. He knew it was just breakfast but he liked having breakfast with her. He poured himself a bowl of oatmeal and ate three bananas. That would hopefully last him until lunch. May had been complaining about having to buy groceries every three days and he could not blame her. After all, she had no idea that his new metabolism burned calories faster than he could chew.

 
He smiled to himself. That was the only cool thing about him. The only thing that was interesting, even if no-one knew about his alter ego. He knew about it and that was enough.

 
Another thought popped into his head. Now that May was not here, did that mean he would not tell her what had been constricting the air in his lungs?

 
Wait, no, he would have to tell her in the evening. Fuck, he did not want to burden her.

 
He would deal with it later.
 

--
 

Lunch was quiet. Too quiet. Of course, everyone around them was screaming, nevertheless Ned simply poked around in the food that had been served to them on that Friday. Noodles and something indescribable. Maybe their contemporaries were screaming because the lunch was so bad. But unlike any other day where Ned would have complained about it, it he stayed silent. Which was truly unnerving to Peter because Ned was never silent. Critiquing most things might have marked Ned as ungrateful in other people's eyes, but not in Peter's. Peter wished he could be as confident as his best friend about sharing his opinions and thoughts with the world, hence he admired Ned for doing so. But how could he ever share what was on his mind when it was darker than everything else around him?

Peter cleared his throat. An apology was due. He knew when his best friend was masking hurt feelings. He had always been able to tell when other people had masks on. Maybe because he enjoyed wearing one so much himself?

"I am sorry that I have been a bit off during the past few days"

Ned looked up, clearly surprised at the unexpected honesty. It was fabricated, but Ned did not need to know that. Maybe if things with May went better than expected, he would tell him the truth of what had gone down.

"I think that maybe I caught the flu but only showed light to no symptoms? I was feeling dizzy yesterday. So, yeah, please don’t take it personally"

"Oh, yeah, like asymptomatic? We learned that in biology, that is so awesome!"

Peter shot him a quizzical look.

"I mean, it is not. Not awesome. Totally uncool", Ned quickly retracted his statement.

Peter sighed. They were definitely nerds. But Ned did not seem resentful.

Ned stared at him expectantly like he was dying to say something.

"What is it?", Peter asked, slightly relieved at his friend talking to him again.

"I have been watching tutorials on Youtube on how to build the Apollo 11 Lunar Lander and it turns out we got the bottom part wrong!", Ned exclaimed.

"What? No, no way, Ned!", Peter exclaimed, offended but inwardly smiling at the fact that his friend had clearly accepted his apology.

"Yeah, you have to put the middle pieces in first, I’ll show you!"

"What? That can’t be right"

"Are you okay, Peter? You look sad",

MJ suddenly interrupted them. It was rare for her to even say more than two words, which explained why Ned looked completely taken aback when he had been fully immersed in explaining where they had gone wrong just moments before.

Peter stared at her, really looked at her. How did she always know?

"I mean, sadder than usual, loser", she quickly glanced away, clearly embarrassed.
 

Peter relaxed. For a moment she had almost seemed genuinely concerned about his well-being. He was probably just imagining things.

 
--
 

After school, he had to stop walking towards the subway station that was situated right next to his school in order to catch his breath. As the moment of confession grew closer, he felt like there were huge, concrete walls shutting down on him. And they were moving at a quick pace. He sat down on a park bench and tried to breathe, but his lungs would not oblige. He stayed there in a hunched-down and trembling position for about half an hour until his legs felt like he could walk again. Peter stood up and left the scene as quickly as possible. In typical New York fashion, no-one had stopped to ask if he was okay.

He thought this was supposed to be a «nicer area». May always reprimanded him when he described his school's location to her friends in that way but it was simply realistic. There were no crazy ladies beating up their husbands, very few homeless people on the sidewalk. The trees were green and the air was almost…fresh. In New York’s terms: The area was a true paradise.

He laid eyes on the many people walking in and out of the subway station and the uneasy feeling in his chest started getting out of control again. Logically, he knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, it was the same subway that he took everyday. But mentally, he felt like there was a huge fire inside of his gut and with every deep breath of air he was adding fuel to it. So, it was settled. He would walk home.

Strolling home alongside the promenade, he started reflecting on what had just happened. Had he just had…a panic attack? No, it could not have been that. Anything but that. He had just been a little bit nervous, it was nothing to worry about. But still…if that were to happen in front of May, she would start worrying about him again, like she had after Ben’s death. That could not happen.

He had spent the year after Ben died wrapped up in the little cocoon that was his blanket and quietly sitting in his chair at school, dazed and unable to focus. The images of Ben’s gunshot wound and his soul fading out of existence always present in his mind and reminding him how useless he had been. Luckily, his best friend was there to keep him from falling apart. In fact, he kept him from missing school completely.

Ned relentlessly explained Star Trek, Legos, the Avengers to Peter even if it was an an unreserved monologue. He ignored everyone that teased him about being friends with «the quiet kid» or «the poor orphan». He even told off the science teacher that kept trying to call on Peter. The more he talked to him - and he talked to him a considerable lot - the more interested Peter became. As time went on, they became equally invested in the culture, fictional and non-fictional until Peter finally bought Star Trek: Next Generation and they spent most of their school nights watching the show and discussing it with each other. It was good because it gave him purpose. It was good because it was real.

Something about spending time with Ned made Peter feel less guilty about feeling joy and having fun despite having been too weak to save Uncle Ben. Maybe because Ben had always liked Ned and told Peter that if he had a friend like Ned, he would never be alone. Ben was right. Ned had always stuck with him. And a part of him felt that by following Ben’s advice, he was keeping him alive.

His absences at school had no effect on his grades. After him and Ned had both gotten accepted into Midtown, their days were filled with science and subjects that they both excelled in. Yes, it took up a lot of their time, but learning so much about a subject that he loved was worth it. In the end, Ned had silently taught him how to live again. And, more importantly, how he could stop worrying May.

And then, the bite happened. Going to a science school there was always talk about human experiments and their unethical procedures but he had of course never even dreamed of being the subject of one. And yet he had wandered off and lost his group on that fateful field trip day and suddenly, he was something not entirely human anymore. Part spider. His entire life fell apart. At first, after the natural fascination had subdued, he felt empty. Like something had been taken from him, the sense of normality that he had been trying to achieve all along. That subtle emptiness made it hard for him to concentrate.

Many sleepless nights followed, mainly because he could hear the neighbors' heartbeats and screams and even though he tried very hard, he could not shut them out. May started asking if he was sleeping enough hours again. That made him try to block it out, but sleeping in his bed was now as uncomfortable as sitting in the subway had been before, all the noises and suffering becoming too much to handle. He heard what no-one else did, what people hid so carefully outside of their homes in areas like theirs. Cheating husbands and drunken wives, shattering glass and crying children. No-one would save them. No-one protected them. 

Then, one night, Ben visited him in a dream. He told Peter that he loved him and that he needed to use his powers wisely. That with great power comes great responsibility. Something important inside of him changed that night. The next day, he made sound-proof earphones out of old scraps that he found inside of the garbage next to his apartment block. They were not perfect because he could not afford bought materials but they were good enough to help him sleep. Maybe the motivation for making them had been the emotions of seeing Ben again, maybe it was something far above guiding him. He would never know and he honestly did not care.

From that moment on he understood that his new-found fast metabolism, strength and heightened senses were all tools for an opportunity to do good. In that moment, Spider-Man was born. Wearing that suit and mask and fighting crime on a daily basis made him realize that there is always a way to do good for the people around you, even during times of extreme hardships. That even if you do not know them and they do not know you, you can still have a direct positive impact on their lives and they on yours. That no matter how bleak things seem, they rarely are.

An idea popped into his head and ripped him out of the sense of nostalgia that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. A small smile made its way across his face as he realized what he would do and that he actually could do something make things easier.

He started paying closer attention to the signs on the buildings around him until he found what he was looking for. He entered the shop that he had picked out and hoped that they had what he needed. There. There they were.

Violets. May’s favorite flowers. She had always told him that violet was the color of humility. Well, she would need a generous amount of faith today. So did he. He added two batches of flowers to his cart.

He paid the cashier a quarter of his savings. There were sixty dollars left.

"You done something wrong?", the cashier asked him.

Peter smiled. The man had understood the superstition. There were many Catholics in and around their area. May never dragged him to church nor were his beliefs particularly firm but there was something about them that made him feel at home. 

"No, I am making something right. Thanks", he accepted the bag that was offered to him, «Have a pleasant day»

"Don’t mess it up. You seem like a good kid"

"I won’t", Peter muttered but he was already standing outside of the building.

He tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that dark alleyways gave him now, they way he kept glancing back and forth, always waiting for that person to show up. Luckily, it was still relatively light outside. And there were only a few blocks left. Still, he had to count the cracks underneath his feet to distract himself. What was wrong with him? The last time he did that he was still a child. He was supposed to be grown now.

After three tries of opening their front door and finally pulling it open, he immediately started setting the table. He poured them two glasses of water and watered the violets. Hopefully, May would be home soon. He wanted to surprise her, she had been so stressed out. He had been scared of telling her anything and for no reason at all. She just needed to listen to him and it would all be alright. He had it all planned out: He would explain how he would never do it again and she would cry. That would be the end of it.

Slowly, he took a seat at the table and waited. Two and a half hours, a lot of glasses of water and the completion of his English literature homework later, he was getting worried. He was about to call May, when he got a text message.

He tried texting May that he preferred Star Trek over Star Wars and explaining that she needed to pay close attention to the differences of the two, but tears were blurring his vision. An involuntary whimper escaped his lips and he swiped at his eyes. He needed to stop being so emotional. But she had told him that she would watch the show with him! She had promised! He was a fool for believing her.

That was it, that was his sign. Clearly the universe did not want him to tell her. Clearly, he just needed to deal with it himself. He had to do everything himself. Every. Fucking. Thing.

A ball of energy was forming in the pit of his stomach that had nowhere to go. He needed somewhere else to release the energy, so he smashed the two glasses of water. Of course they would be expensive to replace but nothing mattered any more than getting rid of that horrible feeling of panic and anger, the feeling of being overwhelmed. He knew it was wrong but there was nothing else he could have done. He took the violets out of the vase and threw them down the fire escape.

The neighbors would appreciate them more anyways. He could hear them fighting downstairs. How was it that his aunt was working to an excess and they were still stuck in an unsafe neighborhood? He knew his apartment block from the inside out, the blue stairs, every crack in the wall - And he knew that it was no place for a child to grow up in. 

He had always envied the children that could play outside all day like he saw on television. He wondered if they envied him. His ability to watch TV. Well, he would rather not have had a TV and have gone outside on his own. When Ben was still alive, he was allowed to play outside more often because May was able to take time off thanks to Ben's job as a police officer. He gulped. Now, Ben was dead. And he would never be alive again. On the other hand, he was lucky to have get a quality higher education. Many people did not have what he had already. He just needed to work hard and he would get far enough. And he would get May out, too.

He sat down and put his head into the palm of his hands. His anger subsided a little bit, replaced by determination and a little bit of sadness. Finally, after he realized that he wanted somewhere to go, somewhere other than the place that reminded him of his unbelievably embarrassing outburst, he put on the suit. He would rather be in the blinding lights than alone in his darkened room, just him and his thoughts, any day.

He cleaned up the two glasses and wiped the floor and the table.

Moments later, he jumped out the window. Swinging from building to building, each one taller than the last, he could feel a sense of tranquility. Nothing in the world could trump the feeling of flying through the sky. 

Suddenly, his spider sense flared up. Seconds later, he heard something shatter behind him. Then, screaming. A woman that needed his help.

As he arrived at the scene, he noticed that it was not a robbery. The guy, he…he was trying to…assault her. His senses went haywire. Every hair follicle inside of his skin stood up.

He roughly pushed the girl to the side and grabbed the guy’s jacket.

"What do you think you are doing, huh? Do you think this is funny?"

Suddenly, he was pushing him up against the wall. He felt strong, invincible. Everything around him was too bright and blinding, so he closed his eyes and put his hands on the guy’s throat. Making that guy suffer was the only way to get the pain to stop.

"Peter. If you don’t stop restricting airflow within 5.0 seconds, the impact could be fatal"

"Karen?"

He finally let the guy go and webbed him to the wall. The guy started coughing loudly underneath the webs and he couldn’t care less.

"You could have ruined her life. Do you even get that?", he yelled. His breaths started becoming irregular after he realized the insane thing that he had almost done. Quickly, he used the integrated knives in his suit to cut open a small part of the webs in order for that monster not to die. No monster was worth going to jail for. 

"Bastard", he muttered under his breath. The guy stayed limp, like he knew not to argue. Good. 

Then, he noticed how the woman had not moved at all. She was gripping the brick wall behind her, trembling and cowering on the ground. Clearly, she was in need of his help. Spider-Man’s help.

"Hey, lady, it’s okay. What’s your name?"

"How can it be okay? It can never be okay, he tried to-", she looked up.

"W-who are you?"

"I'm Spider-Man"

"Karen?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Alert the police"

"Should I inform them that it is an attempted sexual assault?"

"Yes, tell them" , his voice trembled slightly.

"Look, the nearest police station is only two miles away, so they should be here in a couple of minutes. I'm Spider-Man, I try to protect the people around here and help arrest the bad guys. Now, tell me, what's your name?"

She started bawling, clearly having realized that he was not out to get her, that he had in fact saved her.

"I-I’m Ava"

Peter could merely sit right beside her as emergency comfort until the police showed up. His left hand that he had placed on her shoulder blade was shaking; he could barely stay seated. He needed to get himself under control.

--

He rubbed his eyes, overlooking the skyline. From up there, humanity could have seemed small if it wasn't for the fact that he could hear everyone like they were standing right next to him.

"Karen, activate wave repulsor"

Immediately, the world turned silent.

But, the silence was deafening. He needed more. He needed somewhere else to go, where he did not know anyone that expected too much from him, where he could just chill:

He pulled on his hair. He could be such an idiot at communicating with people. David probably thought of him as a loser for texting so early on in the evening. He was such a moron! He had thought that eight o'clock was a pretty reasonable time to start a party. Then again, he did not know much about parties. Hence him not going was probably for the best, that way he could not embarrass himself any further. He would go home. He had a lot of homework to do. It was a blessing in disguise, really. Sort of. 

He would just enjoy the calm for a few more minutes. He laid down and looked up to the sky. The place was probably clean, seeing as most people were not able to climb onto a skyscraper's roof so easily. The sky was dark and unrevealing as ever. He wondered if somewhere up there, Uncle Ben was watching over him. And his parents, too.

He ran his fingers over the rough concrete floor. Strange how once could build such a huge structure so quickly nowadays. If MJ was with him, she would tell him about how the pyramids were built by slaves. How they sweat and starved while the Pharaoh sat on his throne. That power should never be given to one man alone. He smiled. She was cute. And she was right. He had been given the power out of complete nothing, he had had no control over how much he got. But he could control how he approached people when he was in his suit, always keeping in mind that he could hurt them much more than they could hurt him. That was why he had programmed Karen to make sure that she alert him if he ever got out of control. Still, he never thought such a thing would ever come up. And there he was.

He jumped up, a sudden rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had done it. He would attend the party. No, he would not go. - Yeah, he would. Okay, first of all he needed to find out where 212 Fifth Avenue was. He had never heard of it, so he looked up the address.

Manhattan, of course. He could not get a cab there, it was too expensive and would burn through the rest of his savings. And it was idiotic. Getting a cab in New York was something rich people did. Then, he stroked his hand over the red and blue material that engulfed his entire body. He could not. The suit was given to him strictly for patrolling and the occasional mission. But what choice did he have?

He checked his backpack. Luckily, he had packed the suit that Mr. Stark had made for him and that he had to swear he would always have with him in case that he was invited to an important event or emergency press conference. Thankfully, the latter had not happened so far.

Swinging through the city kind of felt underwhelming for the first time, maybe because he knew something much more nerve-wracking but also exciting was coming. Meeting David and his friends. Hopefully, they would like him. 

--

"Peter! I was starting to think that you were not going to show up!"

"Yeah, sorry, there was a lot of traffic"

Peter could not believe that huge couches like that even existed. He tried not to stare. David quickly introduced him.

"Peter, this is Travis, this is my new friend Peter, Tony Stark's intern"

"Nice to meet you guys", he awkwardly gave Travis a hug, trying to keep it cool.

"Wait? Peter? You don’t happen to know Roberto?", Travis inquired.

"Roberto?"

"Yeah, he provides me with pills if my regular's out of town"

"To make sure me and my friends don't run out of candy", Travis squeezed David's shoulders. David looked pained, clearly Travis had pinched him hard but he did not protest.

"Look, that's him", Travis showed Peter his phone screen. And Peter got a sinking feeling. Because that was him. 

"He said you wouldn’t put out, but I’m guessing he was just joking", another guy added.

"Was he?", the guy quirked up an eyebrow. 

Peter realized that he had worded it like a question.

"No, I’m straight", he shuddered and put his hand on his throat, trying to make the lump in his throat go away by sheer willpower. Somewhere inside of his tear glands, tears were starting to form but he managed to avoid crying. He was such a wuss.

"Marcus, stop harassing the new kid. Sorry, he’s gay", the guy sitting next to Marcus tried to explain.

"I think everyone is gay"

"Shut up, Marcus"

Peter dug his fingers into the couch cushions. Quickly, he wiped away a tear that still had managed to make its way into the corner of his eye. 

"It's alright"

He excused himself to go to the bathroom. After he came back, David pulled him aside:

"Hey, Peter, what was that about? Did he bother you? Because I can sort him out, you know I will"

"No, no, it’s all good. Thank you for offering though"

He could have told David in that moment, he really could have. There was nothing physically preventing him from doing so but a part of him didn’t help but think that he deserved to be in pain for what had happened to him. Besides, he definitely never wanted to deal with that guy ever again. Also, if Tony found out he would make it into a huge deal - which it was not - and make him want to come clean about how it had happened and he would have to tell him about the booze and Clarity and he was not quite ready to let go of them just yet. Of there at least being a possibility of getting away from everything.

"Want a beer?"

And he wanted to say no, he really could have. But he wanted to feel warm. 

"Yes, thank you"

A beer contained basically no alcohol, so it was fine. It tasted disgusting anyways, so it was not like he would ever drink it again.

Before he knew it, he had downed a couple more glasses. But only because Travis kept reaching him ones and he was too shy to refuse. And he was kind of starting to get dizzy, physically unable to refuse.

In the car, he noticed how the world felt kind of good. Not just because he was sitting in a limousine with beautiful big windows and champagne but because he felt comfortable. Like, yes, he did not know anyone besides David but so what? Everyone is a stranger until they are not. He was supposed to remember something but it was hard to concentrate when someone was filling his glass with champagne. The taste of champagne was actually way better than beer. Someone in the group said something that made him laugh really hard and he didn’t even know why he was laughing. That made him laugh even louder. Before he knew it, they were at the desired location. He felt really badass, going to a late-night party. It was actually kind of funny that he was there since he had not planned on going at all. He was not mad about it. It actually felt pretty good, made the world look a little bit nicer.

"What? Come on, bro, we're 21! Our friends are waiting inside", oh, David was arguing with the bouncer.

"Right. All of you are leaving, right now"

"Is there a problem here?", a man with a beer in hand interrupted. Peter would find out later that he was the one throwing the party.

"No, sir. These kids are trying to get into the club"

"They are with me"

The bouncer gave the dude a mean glare but he let them in.

But shortly after they had handed their coats and jackets to the lady at the entrance, David split up the group.

"Um, I actually need a smoke. Anyone coming with?"

At least half of the people present agreed to go with, Peter included, seeing as he did not know the other people well enough and he never knew what to say in these types of situations. Also, his terrible dance moves were probably undeserved.

They were leaning on the outside walls of the building when David handed him a cigarette.

Peter took a drag and immediately started coughing. 

"You have to inhale. Watch and learn"

David took the cigarette away and made a few smoke rings. 

"Woah"

Peter tried it again. He did not succeed but the drag felt better. Kind of chill. 

After a few minutes of shivering out in the cold, they went back inside.

Him and David watched the crowd dance around. He was glad to have his senses dialled down as otherwise he would not have been able to handle the screams and the music bursting his eardrums. Strange how David was holding out too, he did not exactly have heightened senses. He looked disgruntled as well.

"Is everything alright?", he finally asked.

"Yeah, it's just that my mom is in St. Tropez with her new lover and it kind of sucks. Like, I don't get why she never wants to be here? In New York, I mean"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that", inwardly, Peter rolled his eyes at the other boy. If May got a boyfriend, he would be happy for her. If May went to St. Tropez, he would be happy for her.

"No, that's alright"

On the other side of the room, Peter could see a few kids preparing a few lines of white powder. Soon enough, they were jumping around the room.

David gave him a glance:

"We won't touch that shit"

"No, of course not"

He pulled out a little baggie and handed Peter a pill. It was a blue one this time. Peter placed it on the tip of his tongue.

"Thank you for doing this with me"

"Yeah, of course"

And Peter bent with the waves.

--

They could hear muffled voices from outside but Peter did not seem to care. Nothing really mattered anyways. He loved life. Why had he not realized this before? It did not matter what other people thought, it only mattered what he thought. HE was the KING OF HIS OWN UNIVERSE

"But my only question is: Where does this end? I mean, all lives end in death, don’t they?"

"Woah, a bit dark there, my friend. The way I see it, this is more of a way to take the edge off, you know? When my parents, everything becomes too much, I come here. And I always FEEL GREAT, don’t you?"

"Yeah, but not after", Peter mumbled.

"Huh?"

"I mean, I don’t feel great after"

"That’s the catch. With the highs come the lows. That is just the way of life. It is our natural state of being. You can not get high without being low, you can not get low without being high. Getting high makes us realize how tiny our problems really are. When we forget about our problems, we gain perspective. They call us the lost youth, why not at least enjoy being lost?"

"Maybe"

What was he, and who was he to dismiss being lost anyway?

--

He opened his eyes and everything felt wrong. The carpet underneath his feet still felt amazingly soft but his head hurt.

He entered the kitchen, feeling his headache getting stronger. He did not care what David said, hangovers were annoying.

"Peter, are you getting a cold?", May put her hand on his forehead.

"May? What are you doing here?"

May ignored his objections and checked his temperature.

"Huh, no fever. That’s good. Do you want some ginger tea?"

"No, thank you. But really, what are you doing here? I thought you would be at work"

"I reached the legal amount of hours that I am allowed to, the hospital sent me home so I could rest for a couple of hours"

"Oh"

"Is there something else going on?"

"No"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, May. Wow, you never trust me"

Peter internally cringed at himself saying that. He wasn’t a liar.

"Sweetheart, I did not mean that I do not trust you. I'm just worried"

"Okay, but you don't have to worry about me", Peter scoffed, knowing fully well that he was bluffing. But he had missed his chance, it was too late now.

And if on his way to school he entered the nearest store and slid a packet of cigarettes into his back pockets that was his business. 

Chapter Text

Peter moved his hand into his suit jacket, reaching for something. Everyone around him was indulged in politically charged conversations and well-paced drinks of champagne and David was stuck being lectured by his dad about another one of his transgressions (he had drawn out money from his dad’s account); Mr. Stark being nowhere to be seen. Another gala.

His fingertips were twitching for something different now. There, he could feel them - He needed another smoke. Just a single cigarette, perhaps two. But he couldn’t do it here, where everyone was watching. The congressman would probably not appreciate a 15-year-old smoking cigarettes inside of his obscenely huge dining hall. Old people were so boring. Well, except for…Mr. Stark but that was why it was so important that he not find out. He would make a big deal out of nothing, maybe even confuse his past experiences for Peter’s.

"Peter!", someone yelled. Or maybe they had simply spoken at a normal volume. With his heightened senses it was hard to tell sometimes. He quickly gained control of his heart that felt like it was beating outside of his chest. He resisted putting his hand to where his heart was supposed to be to check if everything was still in the right place. Finally, he turned around to discover that it was David that had tried to grab his attention.

"David, hey!"

David smirked and stepped closer, whispering something into his ear:

"This must seem kind of boring to you too after that rave last week"

Peter nervously shifted his weight.

"Yeah…About that…could you please not tell anyone about it? Especially not Mr. Stark?"

Only if you come to the next one", David winked.

"You are joking, right?"

"Yeah, sure. Just don’t disappoint me"

Peter looked at his hand. It was perfectly still. Like it was indicating that David could be trusted.

"Alright"

David had already moved on, motioning Peter to come with.

"They left a bottle of champagne unattended in the kitchen, come on"

And Peter followed him, his knees feeling weak.

--

"I thought that the first sip of booze always tasted disgusting but this does not taste half bad"

"That’s because this is a fifty-year-old bottle of Krug Brut Vintage, my friend. Of course it is going to taste better than some cheap beer or whiskey. Man, my dad’s scotch was not so bad either"

"Uh…"

"…You don’t remember? At the party with Travis?"

Peter tried to remember. He couldn’t.

"Yeah…shit, you were pretty wasted"

David drew his index finger across his throat to emphasize how wasted Peter must have been.

"I was not that wasted"

"Dude, you were trying to convince the bouncer that he should stop serving alcohol to minors and dedicate his life to getting homeless children off the streets. If he was not so busy filling orders that would have gotten us kicked out"

"Yeah, okay, I was a little drunk", Peter smiled, weirdly proud of himself.

After they had downed the entire bottle, David handed him something in a tiny cup.

"Here, I’ve got some mouthwash. It’s mint-scented. Always gets my dad off my back. He thinks I haven’t drunk in six months"

Peter downed the contents of the cup and spat them into the sink, same as David.

"Wait, why six months? What about before that?"

"You are smart, huh? Shit, I forget you’re a nerd. Well, before boarding school-"

"What are you boys doing in here? ¡Fuera!", the woman that had interrupted them was presumably on cleaning duty, her hair in a straight black bob, hands digging into her hip pockets . She reminded Peter of his mom (when she was still alive). Strict but loving at her core.

They quickly scurried away. Peter remembered what he had been planning to do all along.

"I need a smoke"

Okay, maybe the smoking was getting a little bit out of hand. Maybe he did it a bit too much, maybe he had already smoked a pack that day. But there was no way of stopping without telling Mr. Stark and…

he...

The truth was that he could not have Mr. Stark finding out. He would tell May and…well, May would be furious. And probably take his cigarettes away. She would not understand.

"Dude, I need a smoke too but my dad’s staring at me. Catch you later", David patted him on the back and rejoined his dad. His dad really was staring at him. And at Peter, too. Peter averted his gaze.

Luckily, Mr. Stark was not so clingy. Spider-Man had earned his trust. Peter wished him and Spider-Man were the same person, that he could be as perfect as Spider-Man all the time. But he wasn’t. Because it was Peter that had removed the tracking device from his suit, securing it to the front apron of one of the thousands of cabs in New York City. Because it was Peter that had "reprogrammed" Karen to make sure she not alert Mr. Stark if she were ever to find anything suspicious in his system. Peter Parker was not a hero. Spider-Man was.

Quickly, he searched for a quiet space. Thanks to his advanced hearing he was able to detect one not too far off to the right of him, hidden by big yellow stitched curtains. He slowly, cautiously walked outside and ensured that no-one was watching.

Peter used the lighter he had hidden inside of his coat to light up a cigarette. His hands were shaking, the half a bottle of champagne was slowly kicking in. The air was shivering cold but he barely felt it.

"Kid?"

Shit-

Peter let go of his lighter, but it was too late, the cigarette was already burning and giving off smoke. He quickly put it behind his back. He could already smell the toxins making their way into his lungs. He needed more. He needed it.

"Peter?", Tony stepped out of the darkness, "What are you doing back there? Come back inside, it’s freezing. I’ll ju-"

He wrinkled his nose.

"What the fuck? You’re smoking?"

Peter wavered, he could NOT tell him. He would take his suit and everything he had worked for. He could not lose his suit. He NEEDED his suit.

"What? No! Wow, Mister Stark, never! I would never do something like that"

"Show me your hands", Tony demanded sternly.

"You don’t trust me?"

"No"

Peter sighed, dropping the cigarette behind him and then showing his hands.

Mr. Stark picked the cigarette up, ignoring Peter’s pathetic attempt at hiding his secret and almost flicked it in his face.

"Who gave you this? Huh? Spider-Man?"

Mr. Stark pronounced his alter ego’s name like a swear word.

"Um, I don’t…"

"Answer me"

"A couple of kids at my school smoke, it’s no biggie"

"So you thought it would a good idea to join in?", Mr. Stark asked angrily.

"Yes, I mean, no-"

"It was a rhetorical question, kid", Mr. Stark sighed.

Mr. Stark pinched the brink of his nose.

"This ends right now. You need help", Mr. Stark started mumbling.

«What? No, come on, you used to smoke too, I’ve heard all the stories. Tony Stark, the anti-hero. Mr. Stark, please-»

The room started spinning again and he lost his footing.

"So you are drunk as well? Shit, kid, this is not fine. You are not fine»"

"Yes, I am"

"No, you are not"

"Am"

"Alright, then look at me"

"Hm? Why?"

"Come on, look at me for five seconds so I can believe you"

Peter started giggling. Lifting his head. But he could not keep looking for long. Somehow, his head just felt too heavy.

"See? I’m all good"

"Yup, you are drunk, kid. Shit, you were supposed to be better than me. I wanted you to be better"

Peter felt like protesting but something told him that if he did that he would throw up. It dawned on him from somewhere that maybe his super metabolism (huh, that was a funny word) made drugs kick in faster. He had only meant to try the champagne, not drink, what five, six glasses? Yet, here he was. He had never meant to end up in the state that he was in.

"I’m sorry", he started giggling. He knew it was inappropriate to continue laughing but he couldn’t stop. It was actually kind of funny that he was drunk in front of Mr. Stark. Another glass would be even better! Wait, no, that was drunk him talking.

"Okay, stay right here"

Oh - he remembered the situation that he was in. Now he wanted to cry.

"No, but-"

"Shut up. Just. Stay right there", Mr. Stark left into the darkness.

Peter slowly sank to the floor and put his face into his hands. He was such an idiot. Now, they would make him stop smoking. He didn’t want that. He wanted to have control over his own life, not lose it. Why did no-one ever let him make decisions for himself? He was basically an adult and everyone was treating him like a child.

After a few minutes of silent disappointment in the people around him, Happy showed up. Peter made a weak attempt at explaining himself but Happy simply motioned him to stop talking and get up. Happy did his best to walk by the edge of the saloon and keep the escapade on the down-low but Peter could still see David staring at him. He was holding onto Happy’s shoulder when David gave him a bit of a smirk. That hint of a smile made him stumble over his own two feet. He didn’t know how David was still standing when he could barely walk.

A few weeks ago, he would have called the guys in his class that bragged about getting so drunk they could barely walk drunks, liars, sometimes. That would get him a rare smile out of MJ. Now, here he was, imitating them. He could barely understand what Happy was saying.

"Don’t speak a word until we get to the car. There is a lot of press around and we don’t want to give them any reason to publish this"

They quietly walked towards the car and Happy shoved him onto the limousine’s back seat.

As requested, Peter sunk into the back seat and kept quiet until out of sight of the paparazzi. But the nervous looks Happy was giving him were hard to ignore. Not because he particularly cared but because even from his slumped down position he could hear the resulting air flow of Happy rapidly moving his head back and forth every two seconds. He really wished he could ignore it but it was loud to such an extent that it was hard to do so.

"What?", he simply asked, annoyedly.

The car came to a halt and Happy sighed.

"You remind me of him"

"Who-?"

"Never mind", Happy started up the car again.

"No, wha- what do you mean?"

Happy paused and smiled sadly.

"Tony is the smartest man I know and yet he has made some of the dumbest decisions I have ever had the misfortune to encounter"

"What? I’m not like Mr. St- Tony. I can handle it"

Happy went silent again.

"What? What is it?"

"That is the same thing that he said to me every time that he did something so stupid that it was blasted on mainstream media outlets for weeks"

Peter shrugged. Why was Happy on his case like that? It was just some pills and alcohol, nothing he couldn’t handle. 

"I know it feels like you have all the time in the world to mess up and do whatever you like. But with these things you don’t. The sooner you stop them the better"

"I can stop"

"I know that you’ll try. But, Peter - If you are anything like him you will not be able to stop"

Peter wiped a stray tear away that had managed to make its way onto his cheek.

By the time they had reached his apartment building he could feel his legs again. They had spent the rest of the thirty minute car ride in complete silence.

"Bye, Happy! Nice talking to you!"

"Goodbye, Peter"

--

Oh no. Judging by the tears on May’s face, Mr. Stark had told her.

"You are going to boarding school", Mr. Stark commenced his speech.

"What? No way!", May quickly interrupted him. Well, the speech was clearly not very well-organized.

"May, he needs consequences"

"He NEEDS a HOME"

"Peter", Aunt May said, her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Peter, I know what’s going on. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner"

"What…What do you mean?", Peter’s hands were starting to sweat. It actually kind of sucked that he was starting to sober up.

"It’s that Flash boy, no? Has he been bothering you again? Come on, baby, sit down"

If that was how they reacted about the booze, he definitely couldn’t tell them about the pills.

Come clean or have fun lying.

Peter took a seat right next to them.

"Yeah, he’s been really um…mean. Shoving me into lockers and stuff"

That had actually happened, of course, but it wasn’t happening anymore. Oh well, what did it matter, it was a white lie. White lies don’t matter.

"It doesn’t matter, you are still going to boarding sch-"

May interrupted Mr. Stark once again.

"Mr. Stark and I need to have a little talk"

Peter held his breath, scared. Mr. Stark did not like being interrupted. But Mr. Stark just sighed.

"Fine, Peter, go to your room"

Peter got up, appreciative of at least having a few minutes to himself. Everything was still spinning.

"Look, I appreciate everything you do to keep Peter safe. But Peter is my child. He may not be my blood but he is mine"

Why did they keep forgetting that he could hear them perfectly fine through any wall?

"I understand that. But I have access to a variety of resources-"

"So do I. You think because you have money you are a better parent?"

"Listen to what I am saying: I have a team of..."

He wiggled his thumbs, tuning out the conversation with all of his mental strength. Some adderall or a few shots would do him wonders right now. His leg shook, telling him to do make things easier for himself. Nah, it wasn’t the moment. He was right not to: Just a few moments later they called him back out. He realized he had actually tuned out the rest of the conversation by thinking about the conversation. Strange.

Mr. Stark looked much less determined than he had before.

"May made me realize that I was projecting. You know that I have been sober for two years"

Peter nodded silently. He remembered the anniversary.

"Look, kid, I may not know what it is like to be a normal teenager but still with all the things that you have been through you have to be careful with experimenting. You have so much responsibility. Imagine if you got tipsy and tried to stop a robbery -"

Peter made a mental note to himself: Never get high on patrol.

"Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry, okay?"

Mr. Stark gave him a look, like he could see right through him.

"Therapy, twice a week"

"What? No, Mr. Stark, I… May, please, I don’t need that"

"With what you have been through you should have gotten help a long time ago", Mr. Stark continued.

"Well we couldn’t exactly pay for it", May interjected dryly.

"Right, my apologies", Mr. Stark replied in a neutral tone as if to ease the tension.

"Sorry, same side, I know", May brushed away a tear that had escaped her eyelids.

"We just want what’s best for you", May patted Peter's hand.

"Yeah, of course. I want that too"

He was such a liar.

--

"Peter, how are you? I’m Mr. Cabhru, it’s nice to meet you"

Peter shook the therapist’s hand.

"Look, Mr. Cabhru, I am sure that you are very good at what you do but this was all a huge misunderstanding"

"What makes you think that?", the man asked. He looked kind, his face hidden by big shiny glasses. Maybe he could trust him.

Peter thought back to the past month. The two raves he had been to, the parties. The colors, the booze. Oh, and the Clarity. He missed it already but he had an instinctive feeling that twice was enough. Clarity had made him think about death and that was one of those topics that he did not want to think about.

"I don’t know. There just was really…nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, what else is there to say?"

"We can talk about anything you like"

"Uh…like what?"

"Well, what about school?"

"What about it?"

"Do you have friends, a girlfriend? How are your grades?"

"Yeah, I have two best friends. My grades are…fine, I think. I don’t have a girlfriend"

"Okay"

The therapist asked him all kinds of questions about his personal life until the hour was over. Then, he sent Peter outside so that he could not hear what him and Mr. Stark were talking about. Of course, he could hear everything perfectly fine.

Having come so close to a psychological evaluation made him want to never take medication again. 

Yeah, he would stop. Happy was right. He would keep the pills but only for emergencies.

"He seems to be coping just fine. However, he seems anxious. I think once a week would be fine for now"

"Thank you, Mr. Cabhru"

Mr. Stark stepped outside of the room.

"Alright, he thinks once a week is enough. It'll be Thursdays, from six to seven"

"Mr. Stark, that really won’t be necessary"

That made Mr. Stark's face lose some of its warmth. He looked angry.

"If you don’t go I’ll assume that boarding school is where you want to be"

"No, come on, Tony, please", Peter made a last attempt at persuasion but Tony walked away, leaving him standing in that empty hallway, alone with his thoughts.

--

Peter sighed. He hadn't drunk booze in a week, refusing all of David's invitations. He hadn't smoked either, which was even more infuriating.

It was really difficult to concentrate without having fun and he debated taking another pill. He reached underneath his mattress and realized his mistake: The pills were all crushed up, there was no way he would be able to take them.

He would have to meet Rosa again. He hated that she had been right. But she wasn't really right, after all if the mattress thing hadn't happened he wouldn't need a restock. He didn't need new pills, he just needed to replace the ones he already had.

His fingers started shaking,

He had a Spanish and Chemistry tests tomorrow and he saw no other way. He rolled up a dollar bill and got into position.

The next thing he knew his nostrils were burning. He sniffled again to make sure he had caught all of the residue. It kind of hurt but in a good way. Then, he could feel a rush coming. He felt really, really good, better than ever. This was so much better than pills! 

He got a lot done that night but strangely enough he did not remember most of it. The only problem was that it did not last as long, so he had to do two more lines before bed.

On Tuesday his nose started bleeding randomly. But he didn't worry too much because he would stop snorting it after «cram week» anyways. It was really no problem. No problem, no problem. He needed to stop repeating, repeating - Fuck!

Wednesday, one small restock with Rosa and Friday night went by and suddenly Peter took his first breath of fresh air in a week. He had done it! Finally, he was free for at least one week-end. For the first time in his life he had not procrastinated. So what if he had needed a little help with achieving his goal? Flash took adderall because it helped him, so did he. It made him feel focused, grounded. Not busy in an overcrowded world. And energetic.

But of course three of their teachers e-mailed them about more homework and extra credit (which he needed after flunking last week's Spanish test) that afternoon. So, he did a few more lines here and there.

Monday morning came, and he found himself in the school bathroom, snorting a line off the back of his hand because he had not gotten enough sleep on Sunday. And then on Tuesday it was because the cafeteria was too loud for him to focus without addies. Wednesday was because he felt like it and it made him more confident in front of MJ. She made him nervous for some reason.

The longer it went on the more reasons there were to keep taking it.

Before he knew it, it had been three weeks. He had been on adderall for three weeks. He only had a handful of pills and no spare money left. That meant that today was the day he would stop. After all, he needed to guard some pills for emergencies.

He made himself a cup of coffee. May smiled.

"Ah, yes, I love coffee. There is nothing quite like it in the morning"

After Peter’s third cup of coffee, Aunt May raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, Aunt May, I need the energy for the test today"

"Angioletto, you are more Italian than I am! But I am also a nurse, so I know three coffees are definitely too much"

After she had left for an early shift at Mr. Delmar’s, Peter poured himself two more. He finally felt half awake.

By the time Peter sat down in his chair at school, the coffee had already left his bloodstream. Every pencil movement screamed agony. Every whisper felt like it had been spoken into existence explicitly to torture him. Where as before everything had been sped up and the more enjoyable parts endlessly joyous, now the most mundane things were happening in slow-motion and joy was something that eluded him.

On the way home, he only had one thought on his mind. One thing to make everything go back to normal again. He probably had ADHD just like Flash, he probably needed the medication just as much. Going through life without adderall was incredibly tedious and was definitely not what he was made for. He realized that now. It would only do him and his grades good to keep taking it.

At home, he sat down and slumped into his chair. He needed to gather his thoughts. He did not want to need something, especially when it cost money. But at the same time, the effects of it were too promising. It would help him study.

He gazed into the corner of the room where his stash lay. His finger could not stop twitching. One more could not hurt. Just one more, and he would stop. One line and he had energy again, one line and he had his life back. There were worse things he could do. Heroin, for example. He chuckled to himself. How idiotic did one have to be to even try such a thing. At least his drugs were prescription and he was using them to function more, not less.

He opened his gym bag and took out the pills. He crushed and lined them up with the help of his pencil sharpener. He inhaled deeply. He loved that moment, right before he took the first hit. Like taking your first bite of birthday cake after a long day of staring at it.

After three lines everything became very calm. So calm that he could scream. Oops, he had only meant to do one. Whatever.

There was a knock on the door. In a matter of seconds Peter, put everything away. Not a second too early. Before he had a chance to respond, May poked her head in through the door frame.

"Peter?"

"Hey, what’s up? What’s wrong? Everything okay?", the words stumbled out of his mouth.

Way to act casual, Peter, he winced, why did I do it again, I promised myself I would keep a few pills for emergencies. What’s wrong with me?

"The hospital called. Apparently there has been a change in legislation where I need to acquire further licensing in order to keep working as a nurse. I will be out of work for at least a couple of months, a year maybe"

That took a few moments to register but suddenly Peter was in a rage.

"What? How is that legal? You should get a lawyer!", oops, he had said that too loud judging by the dumbfounded look on May’s face.

"Angioletto, if I had the money to pay for a lawyer we would not be in this situation. Just promise me that you are going to work hard no matter what. Money is going to be tight for a while and I will be out throughout the day"

You already are, Peter bit his lip.

"Huh?"

"Yes, of course. I will. Should I pick up a couple shifts at Mr. Delmar’s to help out?"

"No! No, you do not worry about anything but school right now. I will ask Mr. Delmar myself. I could do with some extra hours"

"Should I ask Mr. Stark?"

"No, definitely not. He doesn’t need to know. Promise me you won’t tell him"

Peter nodded.

"I promise"

May gave him a hug.

"May?"

Tell her. Tell her right now, before it’s too late.

"Hm?", she murmured into his shoulder.

It’s a slippery slope-

"No, nothing, sorry. It’s nothing"

Nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Peter stared at the food stamps on the table. Three weeks of May being out of work and they were already on welfare. Luckily, the papers had gone through quickly. But still, they were on welfare.

They were on fucking welfare.

He was so lost.

They had always struggled keeping everything afloat, especially since...Ben had died but they had never crossed the line. It made him realize how lucky he had been that May had always worked so hard to keep them stable and how lucky he had been to get that scholarship. 

And now, they were less lucky. Everything was falling apart. Everything that they had worked so hard for. Maybe he would have to pick up a couple of shifts at Mr. Delmar's after all, especially now that the addies had burnt through his entire savings. He could already feel a deep sense of dread settling in his stomach.

David was away because of his father's campaign and there was no way of reaching him. Rosa had stopped giving him freebies. Everything was going to shit.

"Hey, Peter, could you pick up the food stamps from the SNAP office? I have to leave for Delmar's soon and I don't have the time"

"Well, I don’t…I have to get to school…"

"Peter", May put her hair into a ponytail, "you know that we have to work as a team, things are tight right now"

"Alright, I'll do it, I'm sorry. It’s just that I have two pop quizzes today and-"

"Shit, I have to go, my shift starts in five minutes. Bye, honey"

Peter sighed and plunged his spoon into his cereal bowl, feeling weirdly distraught by the colors. They looked…wrong. He wanted to throw up.

"Oh, and Peter? Just don't do anything stupid, okay? There’s no more room for messing up. No more smoking, okay? And remember your therapist appointment is on Thursday"

"Yes, I’m sorry, May. Understood"

As soon as May had left through the door, Peter bolted to the bathroom. He heaved into the toilet bowl. He cursed himself for being so careless. His fast metabolism meant that withdrawal sometimes crept up on him. He wiped at his mouth, desperate to forget the taste of bitterness of mouth, threatening to take his sense of stability away.

He lined up a crushed up addy that he had stowed away in his pants and admired the way in which the snowy substance glistened and sparkled in the air. How painful his nostrils smelled already and yet he could not wait to have his daily dose of enthusiasm.

He was keeping it simple: One line and two addies as pills to keep him stable throughout the day, two additional lines during the afternoon to keep him focused and motivated. Another line an hour before sleep to keep his body from withdrawing when he was asleep. Although, admittedly, he did not sleep that much anymore, if at all.

He climbed out of his bedroom window to have his first cig of the day. He inhaled deeply and briefly held onto the fire escape. With every inhale he could feel his sanity returning. Spider-Man would have disagreed, but he was not Spider-Man. Right in that moment, he was just Peter Parker. Peter Parker was not perfect. Slowly, the fire inside of his stomach subsided. He felt a bit sick but up to any task that the world provided for him. He was ready for the day.

--

Someone was coughing right next to him. Why did sick people even get on the subway?

"What is wrong with you? Get away from me, I don’t want your dirty germs on me!"

The man looked up, ski mask on his head, confused.

"What is your point, boy? We all get sick sometimes"

"People like you disgust me. I have three tests this week, you think other people don’t have lives? I actually have a life, you know!"

Then he noticed the stares. A boy around his age, clutching his backpack straps, as if ready to bolt any moment. That used to be him. Scared of the loud, of the dangerous.

What was he doing? Screaming at a crazy person on an NYC subway? Where had it all gone wrong? Was he crazy?

"Um, sorry", he stood up and moved towards the front of the wagon, confused and probably swaying a bit. Almost like an invisible wind was guiding him through a great storm. Perfect. He was perfect.

--

«Peter?»

"Yeah, Ned, man, what’s up?"

Fuck, his nostrils were hurting so much.

"You know how we have got that Chemistry presentation in two weeks?"

"What, Ned, no, we don’t?"

"Yeah, dude, I marked it right here on my schedule. Here, check it out", Ned pulled out his notebook.

"Whaat? But that’s right after my lab weekend with Mr.-Tony"

"And more importantly: It’s two days before Christmas! I was thinking if we get started now we could rehearse it next week. Also, we could start thinking about our next LEGO piece. Maybe if we both save up we could buy the next one together. That would be awesome!"

"Um, Ned, no, that would not be awesome"

Immediately, he could see a shift in his friend’s body language. Like someone had let some of the air out and left behind a slightly more dejected hot air balloon.

That was his fault. He needed to reverse it. Since when did he have such an effect on other people?

"No, Ned, wait I can explain so, uh, Ned, wait, it’s all-"

- Woe, his words were getting jumbled up.

Get a grip.

"Things with me and May have been…pretty hard and…"

Luckily, Ned caught on fairly quickly.

"Oh. Sorry, dude, I didn’t know. Can I do anything to help?"

And now Ned looked worried, like he had been after Ben’s death. No, don’t make Ned look worried. Say something, you loser.

"Actually, I have been looking at ways to earn a bit of money since May won’t allow me to work. I thought of going to the computer l-lab",

oh my God stop stuttering you idiot, "after school"

Ned looked overjoyed.

"Yeah, dude, I’ll be right there! And after that we can work on our project"

"No, Ned-", but Ned had already smiled, patted him on the back and walked away. Shit, I’ll be in withdrawal by then. I need more pills.

--

At lunch, he was starting to come down. Fuck his high metabolism, fuck everything.

Mj spoke up.

"What's going on with you? You're super skinny"

"Um, what? No, I'm not"

He plunged his spoon into the potato soup and pretended that something very interesting was waiting for him at the bottom of the bowl, something other than shame.

"Alright, you don't have to tell me"

She sighed and went back to doodling. He couldn’t help but notice her intense stare on his way out. Surely, she was wrong. Surely, he hadn’t changed.

He went into the bathroom, scarcely feeling a scared freshman sneaking right past him. He stared into the mirror. Who was that? Maybe it was the adderall but he definitely seemed...skinnier. He put his head on the glass and inhaled deeply. Fuck. He had not meant for this to happen.

He would change, he had to.   

Although...maybe...it wasn’t even the adderall. He had been sleeping less, that could have been cause of the weight loss. Yeah, that was it, he would start sleeping more.

He left the room, unable to tolerate his reflection any longer. Because whoever had looked back at him in that bathroom was not really there. And that scared him to death.

--

It was sitting at the top of Flash's gym bag, almost like it was mocking him. Or perhaps desperate, begging him to take it.

He took out twenty pills and slid them into his back pocket. Before he could pull the gym bag shut, a hand on his shoulder made him drop the pills.

"What are you doing, weirdo?"

Alarmed, Peter turned around to find his bully’s face staring right back at him.

"What?", Peter replied as he crouched down to pick the pills back up.

"You just took my adderall"

"No, I didn't. What are you talking about?"

"Don’t deny it. I know what they look like. What kind of psycho are you? I need those pills"

As Peter just stared at him, unable to process what had just happened, Flash started leaving the room and shook his head.

"Nah, I’ll go tell Mrs. Alison. I knew you were cheating"

He felt a sudden rage wash over him. He grabbed Flash’s collar and pushed him up against the wall.

"You tell Mrs. Alison and I'll fucking kill you"

Normally, Flash would have laughed it off but Peter was using all of his superhuman strength on the guy to keep him glued to the wall. The expression on Flash’s face morphed into something resembling fear. Peter bit his lip after he was satisfied and let go of the other guy.

He shot Flash a last look.

"Besides, I need them too"

He didn’t look back.

--

He had had no chance to snort the pills, their teachers had basically ignored the bell ringing and they had had no breaks.

"Peter!"

Ned took a seat at the computer next to Peter.

"‘sup"

"I can’t stay for too long. You know what my mom’s like, she wants me to be home by six. She thinks it’s too dangerous to be outside after that", Ned groaned.

"Your mom just cares about you! She wants you to be okay, you know?", Peter raised his voice as his body went hot and cold at the same time.

The other people in the computer lab stared at him in disbelief. Then he realized that it probably was not normal to yell about something like that. He put his head into his hands.

"Sorry"

"I mean, it’s okay. I mean, I would be stressed too", Ned patted his back like he was a child.

"I’m not s-stressed, Ned", Peter spat through clenched teeth, "and I’m not a child"

His friend could not be deterred.

"It’s okay to be stressed. You can talk to me about anything, you know?"

That made him feel a tiny bit guilty. He reopened his eyes, even though all he wanted to do was sleep.

"How about you tutor other kids?"

"I guess I could"

Ned worked out the layout of the flyers and the color scheme. All Peter did was give vague instructions which did not seem to slow down his friend. Then, they created a vague outline for their presentation.

"I have to go to the bathroom", he just needed two pills, for God’s sake. They always shut down the bathrooms at five.

"No, wait, my train leaves in fifteen minutes!"

And Peter waited as his friend printed out the flyers. He knew he was supposed to feel guilty but he couldn’t feel anything. He would have to find another place to do the addies, at that point only snorting them could bring him back fast enough.

He still smiled a bit at the possibility of financing future addies with his own money. He would probably stop feeling so guilty then.

--

«The bathroom is closed»

"What?"

"The bathroom"

The janitor gestured with his hands as if Peter was ten years old.

"closed"

"No, please, sir-"

"Boy, it’s just a bathroom, you can go at home"

There was no point in replying. With his eyes watering and his legs trembling, he walked towards the front entrance of the school. He tried running but quickly realized that he did not want to draw attention to himself.

"Hey, Penis!"

"Huh?"

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him up against the lockers.

As he caught a glimpse of Flash’s stupid face he wanted to retaliate but his legs were shaking so badly that he was lucky to still be standing

"I'm sorry", he whimpered. He knew his chances. Flash dragged him outside the building. A blow to his face brought him to his knees, whereas other times he would have barely felt the impact, his ribs aching. All he could think about was that he needed to snort something right now. 

He could only lay there, on the concrete steps in front of his high school and try not worsen his pain. The other boy spit on him and laughed. Blood was running down the side of his face.

Flash stepped closer and rummaged through Peter’s pockets.  In triumph, he waived the pills in the air, presumably all twenty of them.

"These are my pills. Get your own prescription, low life"

And with that, Flash left him in the cold winter air. Peter breathed in some dust.

"Merry Christmas", he whispered to himself,

"and a happy new Year"

--

He needed more pills. Everything inside of him was screaming for him to get more. More, more, more.

«M-my aunt wrote me a note, I’m here to pick up our SNAP benefits for the month of January»

"Alright, just fill out this form and we will get right to you. Oh, and hand me over the note please. I’m assuming she signed it?"

Peter nodded. At least the lady at Queens’ food stamp office seemed nice.

"Okay, we will be right with you"

The woman turned off the communication speaker and started scribbling something onto paper.

Peter took a seat on one of the waiting chairs next to the booth. But then he wished he would have left the room.

"See, it’s always the drug addicts that get benefits. We work all day and they get high and get everything for free? It’s not right, Caroline, I’m telling you"

"You’re right"

The same woman shoved the food stamps into an envelope and looked up with a smile.

"Number 19"

Peter stood up and walked to the front of the line again.

She turned on the speakers.

"Here you go, sweetie. Have a nice day"

"Thank you", he smiled and left the office.

What was that lady’s problem? He was not a drug addict.

He checked the envelope. I bet I could sell these for a lot of money. I bet they’re worth at least a week’s batch of pills.

Before he knew it, he was on his way to meet Rosa.

He let out a breath of relief when he discovered her black, shiny hair standing out from the crowd of high schoolers leaving the school building. Some of them he vaguely remembered but he could not bring himself to get wrapped up in another conversation. He was tired, his head was pulsing, he just needed something to pick him up.

"Rosa, h-hey, Rosa!"

He poked her shoulder. She turned around, seemingly unfazed to see him at her high school.

"H-h-hey, Rosa. I need more of the…you know…of the addies"

"Let’s go talk somewhere else", she started guiding him towards a more secluded spot.

"Hey, isn’t that Pedro? I thought you weren’t selling anymore!", a guy within the group that seemed vaguely familiar asked.

"Shut up, Raj, this is none of your business", Rosa yelled back.

Once they were out of sight, she smiled.

«Okay, how many?»

"Um…You give me 20 pills and I give you these, okay?", he opened the covert envelope to show her the month’s worth of food stamps.

Her visage darkened.

"I only accept cash"

"Please?"

She looked away, her mind unreadable.

"P-please, Rosa, I’m begging you, I can get you more money next week"

"Alright, but I can’t sell them to you at full value"

Peter’s mouth started watering as she took out the bag of pills, he tried to act casual but his body gave him away.

"Thanks", he snatched it away greedily. He gave away the envelope like it didn’t contain an entire month’s worth of food.

And if he went into a public bathrooms to snort up five pills at once that was none of anyone’s business. He was just taking care of himself.

—

"May, I am so sorry, but I lost the food stamps. I must have left them on the subway"

May’s eyes widened.

Peter sniffled.

"I'm s-so sorry, Aunt May, please don't be mad"

She dropped the keys onto the kitchen table. She had just gotten home.

I wouldn't believe me.

May put her arms into her side, squinting her eyes. 

For a moment there he could see salvation, could see all the weight being lifted and all of the ugliness in his soul being spilled out onto the table.

But she just sighed and took something out of her purse.

"Alright, I have some left from last week that I did not use and some cash I spared for emergencies"

"Thank you so much, I am so sorry"

"Okay, I trust you"

"Peter? Are you sure that you didn’t use them to buy cigarettes?"

"I swear, I don't know what happened", Peter doubled down.

May looked at him weirdly, almost emotional.

"I trust you"

"Yeah. I know"

May gave him a hug.

"I’m so sorry to have to put you through this, amore. I know it can’t be easy for you either"

"It’s okay, May, don’t worry about me. I’m fine"

He really did feel fine, much better than before at least. Still, when he felt May’s cheeks getting wet, he wanted to cry with her. 

This was all his fault, if he wasn’t there she would have one less mouth to feed. She probably regretted taking him in in the first place. She probably regretted ever having met him or Ben. He definitely needed another line.

--

"Hey, Pete. I’ve been having some issues with the nano tech for your new suit and thought you might want to help"

Peter waited for Mr. Stark to ask him to come over.

"Kid?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to help or not?"

"Oh, yes, of course, I’m so so sorry, Mr. Stark-"

"I thought that you called me Tony now"

"Yeah, uh, sorry. When should I come?"

"Right after school? I have your schedule, Happy’s substitute will pick you up"

"Okay", he replied cheerily.

Maybe Peter’s hands were shaking a bit when handling the machines and he had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom a couple of times but all in all, the visit was like any other. At midnight, he started feigning fatigue in order to not raise suspicion, after all they had been working for seven hours straight.

"You tired?", Tony said as if he had just remembered that even mutants needed sleep, «Well, I’ve got something to show you»

He led Peter into his penthouse and past a variety of rooms before stopping in front of one as if expecting something. He opened the door and motioned Peter to enter. Inside there was a bed, a closet, a variety of different gadgets and the view of the city was hidden by big white curtains.

"Your room"

"My room?"

As Tony scratched his head, he smiled bashfully.

"Yeah, Pepper chose the curtains and pretty much…everything. So you can come by whenever you want"

Peter suddenly couldn’t speak, he felt so overwhelmed by the thought of having his own room at Tony’s house. Did he really care about him that much?

"Is it okay? We can change the curtains if you want to"

Peter had never heard Tony sound so insecure. Unable to give Tony the reply he deserved, he tentatively wrapped his arms around him. Tony hugged him and suddenly he could speak again.

"Thank you", he mumbled. 

"You’re welcome, kid. Are you hungry?"

"Uh, no, I had a lot of breakfast"

"Well, you have got to eat something. I’ll whip up some pancakes", Tony ignored his weak protests.

And so Peter choked down an entire batch of pancakes before vomiting it all into his new room’s porcelain toilet bowl. The sore throat was worth the hint of a smile he had seen on his mentor’s face.

He can’t know. And yet I want him to know. I’m scared.

—

Peter tapped his fingers on the wooden bed.

He had to sleep. He had to sleep. He had to sleep but he couldn’t. After what felt like another eternity staring at the wall, he decided that he couldn’t take it anymore.

He quietly advised Friday not to alert anyone to his presence and stepped out into the hallway. Even if Tony was clean, there had to be alcohol somewhere.

He rummaged around in the drawers of the big closet in the entryway. There, two bottles of sauvignon blanc. Pepper had probably forgotten about them after they had hosted that dinner with the senator. Perfect.

He pulled out the cap of the bottle with his bare hands and took a moment to inhale the scent. It was underwhelming but it felt good to be underwhelmed for once. He started nipping at the edge of the bottle and enjoyed the first sips of alcohol that he had had in weeks. When the warm feeling settled, he almost did not mind the jitters wearing off for once. He emptied the entire bottle and half of the second one and then finally, he felt a sense of calm.

Calm.

Calm…His eyelids started drooping off. His eyes were closing.

And then nothing mattered.

Where was he? He had to get back to bed. Somewhere on his left side, his chest was hurting a bit. He heaved his heavy body upright and weaved his way towards his bed, hiding the empty and remaining bottle in his school bag. And finally, he slept without a nightmare for the first time in weeks. He didn’t even dream. That was good. Not dreaming was good.

—

Ow.

Where am I?

«Peter?»

"What?", he mumbled, half asleep.

"You have to get to school, kid. And don’t forget your therapist appointment"

A sharp and annoying sound made its way through Peter’s skull. Why was Iron Man waking him up for school? Oh, right.

While brushing his teeth, he could taste the alcohol mixing in with the toothpaste. Ew.

"So, Peter. How have you been feeling?"

Peter nervously fumbled with his sweater.

"Yeah, I think I am doing better"

"How about your aunt?"

"Yeah, we’re doing okay"

"We?"

"Huh?", Peter nervously shifted his weight. Had he given something away?

"I asked about your aunt and you responded with "we""

"Oh. Yeah, I don’t know, I must have misheard you"

His therapist hastily wrote something down. Peter really needed a Tylenol, the headache was piercing through his skull.

"It is good that you are doing better. What about your friends, family?"

"Yeah, they are fine too. Me and my best friend Ned are planning on building another LEGO piece"

"Really? That’s great?"

"Did you hear about this new quadrocopter that can fly three loops in a row while keeping the camera steady?"

His therapist looked away, disappointed almost.

Shit, I’m such a disappointment.

After an entire session of Peter explaining drone technology, Dr. Cabhru let him go. Peter tried walking away fast enough but he could hear anyways.

"Mr. Stark? I am worried about Peter. I think he is hiding something"

"No, of course I asked him but he seems to be under the impression that I can’t help him"

"Of course, I will call you next Thursday to update you on his progress"

"Goodbye, sir. Have a nice evening"

—

"Hey, turns out I don’t have any addies today"

Peter's stomach twitched weirdly, it had taken all of his strength and two tutor sessions to get to their meeting place, why was Rosa taking it away from him?

"- but I do have coke if you wanna try?"

"Um, cocaine? Is that not super dangerous? And illegal?"

Peter hesitated, suddenly feeling unsure of his plan to get uppers however possible.

Rosa looked irritated.

"You're taking addies on a daily basis, you will be fine"

She grinned.

"Unless...you want to wait until next week to get your new batch?"

And Peter hated himself but-

"No, no! I will take it. Thanks. Um, see you on Monday?"

"Yeah, see you Monday", she smiled, although she did look a bit worried. Maybe she was not used to clients buying from her so often.

Her pitiful stare followed him home.

—

Beep, beep, beep. The steady clicking and beeping of the cash register lulled Peter into a deep sleep. Almost.

"Penis Parker! Food stamps, huh? Interesting"

Peter groaned. What was he doing here? Usually, being on vacation meant avoiding his school bully entirely.

"Leave me alone, Flash"

"You know from the moment that you walked into our school building I knew you were dirt poor"

"Go away, Flash. Isn’t Mommy and Daddy’s butler supposed to shop for you?"

He felt good at having made a good comeback until he noticed Flash’s expression faltering. Flash quickly regained his composure though.

"My parents provide for me. What do you have, huh? Pills?"

And with that, Flash pushed him into the snack bar. If he hadn’t been so on edge he would have seen that coming.

Instead, he cringed at the sound of a thousand snacks falling and hitting the ground in an agonizing array of sounds and clanking.

"Hey, you have to pick that up!", the person at the cash register yelled.

"Yeah, sorry", he mumbled and put everything back into its place.

When he turned around to finally pay for his food the other boy had already left.

At home, he started unpacking the bags of groceries when May softly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Have you had a good day?"

"Yeah", he replied.

"Are you sure?"

The dark circles underneath her eyes made him really angry all of a sudden.

"You know what, May? I'm just fucking humiliated by you not paying our bills. I mean, food stamps, really? If Ben were alive he would be ashamed"

May's face turned ashen. Immediately, Peter felt terrible. I’m a terrible person.

"Peter, what has gotten into you? It’s like I don’t even recognize you anymore"

Her gaze softened, "Is it Ben’s birthday? I know it’s two weeks away. You can talk to me about it, you know? You do not have to go through this alone"

Peter ached to be held, to get rid of the monster gnawing at his lungs, his very being. But it was too strong.

"You know what, Aunt May, just leave me alone. I don't need any sympathy from you!"

He slammed the door to his room behind him and locked it, uncaring about any repercussions, he felt such rage that it brought him to his knees.

He would have been scared if he had not been so focused on the bag of white powder in his hands, begging him to give it a try.

"Peter? Please talk to me?"

"No, leave me alone, May"

He panicked. She could not make him come out, not right now.

"Peter, come on, we can sort this out, you know we can"

"No, May, go away!"

Luckily, he could feel her heartbeat moving away from the door. And the monster inside of him rejoiced at having gotten rid of the threat while his heart bled chemical tears.

He put the straw to good use and then everything went blurry.

How many lines did he snort, six, seven? Too many to count, too many to keep him awake. He laughed…too much, maybe? He definitely did not get any homework done.

The next time he opened his eyes was when the glaring sun rays shone onto his face. Everything felt wrong and too sensitive. Everything was wrong. His head was throbbing, his nostrils and his back hurting from apparently spending the night on the floor.

He wanted to disappear right then and there. Not die, simply go somewhere where he could not feel anything, just pure bliss and ecstasy. He would be happy and May would not have to worry anymore. The world would be rid of one more burden.

Yeah, he would never do cocaine again. It was a silly decision anyway.

But he could not stay right there, on that floor, where the shame of what he had done seemed to ooze from the very room he used to call his safe haven.

He put on his suit and went on patrol.

I hate myself.

—

"Peter? Are you safe? Climb onto a rooftop or something"

"Okay?"

"Are you sitting down?"

"Yes, what’s going on? Has something happened?"

His heart started pounding faster. Please don’t let him know my secret. Please don’t let it be-

"May’s been in an accident"

"W-what? Where?"

"She took a cab home from nightschool and apparently the driver was intoxicated. I’m afraid to tell you that she has died"

"No, that is not true. What hospital is she at?"

But Tony just smiled.

"Tell me the hospital, Tony!"

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This can’t happen, not to May. Why is he not responding?

"Tell me the hospital. TELL ME THE HOSPITAL!", he shouted.

"Peter? Is everything alright?", May lept into his room. Only then did Peter come to realize that it had been a nightmare, that he had said only the last sentence out loud. It had all felt so…real. He groaned. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead.

"I…uhm, had a bad dream"

"What was it, then?"

Before Peter could reply, May sighed.

"You know, I have to get to sleep, I’ve got work at 7"

Peter suppressed a whimper, still somehow non-believing that his aunt was still alive, breathing. He was so glad to see her standing there even if she looked mad.

"You…", he felt himself getting choked up, "you died. Just like Ben did"

Come on, don’t cry, you wuss.

May’s gaze softened and she took a seat on the outer side of his bed.

"Well, my biggest nightmare would be if something ever happened to you", she replied and gently pushed his curls back.

"Now get some sleep. And have a shower, you smell awful"

And Peter did. But he couldn’t resist drinking the rest of the sauvignon blanc he had saved up. After all, he had school tomorrow and couldn’t afford another nightmare. Or maybe he just liked the feeling.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Peter inhaled deeply, wishing he had never started smoking in the first place. Were he a regular person his insides would have turned inside out by now. He rolled himself a blunt and inhaled once again.

«Ese putazo de niño, está siempre fumando esa mierda de marihuana»

That son of a bitch, always smoking that marihuana shit.

«¡Lo siento!», he yelled.

Sorry!  

«Si fuera uno de mis hijos nunca le dejaría salir de mi puerta. Le pegaría hasta que sus dientes le caigan »

If he was my son I would never let him leave to house. I would slap him so hard his teeth fell out.

Peter sighed.

She wouldn’t tell. She had two kids, an alcoholic husband and two jobs. She was nothing to worry about.

He deserved a break.

He lit himself up a cigarette, trying to get his daily nicotine fix in before May woke up. She had seemed more chill about smoking occasionally than his mentor, but remained a possible threat.

He wrinkled his nose at the puff of smoke.

After so many months, he still didn't like the smell. And yet he wouldn't miss it.

He flicked away the cigarette and climbed back into his room to pack up for school.

And maybe he would need the quiet after all.

«Peter?», the quiet knock on the door made Peter drop his breath mints.

Shit. He quickly tossed them underneath his bed.

«Yeah?», he leaned on the bedpost, trying to act casual.

May quietly opened the door. 

"We need to talk", she said as she hastily brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She was probably searching for his eyes but Peter could not bring himself to do that. It was a slow morning. 

"Okay..."

Fuck, she knows.

As they walked past the doorframe and into the kitchen, Peter tried to count to ten. It was a trick that Uncle Ben had taught him.

1....2....3-.3....

Keep your shit together, Peter.

He lost count.

"The landlord called. I tried to explain our situation but he wouldn't listen. We didn't make rent this month"

"Again?"

"He asked us to move out by next week"

"Shit, May»

This was so fucked up to hear. Even if he had been expecting it. 

"I could ask Mr.Stark?", he asked even though he could already feel shame burning in his stomach from having to admit to a literal billionaire that they were short on rent.

"No, honey, this isn't his problem to fix. Don't give anyone a reason to call you poor"

And he didn't know how to answer that- Also, the weed was hitting him.

Tears were rolling down his aunt's face. He didn't know what the fuck to do.

"Angioletto, we have to be strong now, okay?", she smiled through the tears and took his hand.

Floaty. Floaty feeling...Like a camera losing focus.

"Peter?"

"Huh?"

"I've sent in an application for public housing"

"Yeah. Okay", Peter sighed. Parker luck.

And so, it happened. Their landlord kicked them out on Monday and with no money or time for a complaint, they left.

The next few weeks were kind of a blur. 

All he knew was that they slept and showered at a shelter. 

And they kicked them out from eight until eight and that was that.

The days were getting shorter. His lips were so blue that he couldn’t feel them anymore. But it didn’t matter because the minute he entered the school building they regained enough of their color to make people not notice.

And Peter pushed it down, all the hunger and hurt in his chest, until he felt nothing.

The only sources of distraction were Spider-Man, his week-ends tinkering with Tony at the lab and, well, David.

--

"Try it"

"Try it, try it!

"No, come on, man, I don't want this"

"It's just an O.C., don't be such a pussy"

"No, Dave, leave me alone"

"You want me to tell your precious mentor what you've been doing?"

"You want me to tell your dad?"

David shrugged, "He knows I'm a fuck-up. Do your parents?"

Peter winced, "My parents are dead"

"Shit, bro, I'm sorry, I didn't know that" Peter hesitated before giving the older boy a pregnant look.

"You don’t know anything about me"

Just when the loud shouting and laughter surrounding them threatened to swallow their conversation whole, David gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"But then...it doesn't really matter, right?"

Peter's heart grew heavy as he remembered the little he knew of his parents. Like, the lullaby his mom used to sing him before bedtime. 

Fuck it, I'll do it just this once. It doesn't even matter.

It did.

After a few minutes of nervously chattering with David's friends, Peter could feel a sudden warmth spreading all across his body. It wasn't like the addies at all, more like a gentle wave that swept across him, burying his head in the sand. The burning inside his nose disappeared.

He felt calm, and floaty.

Everything slowed down and then.

he.

just.

kind.of.

lived.

--

--

"Peter??"

"Yeah?", Peter asked, coughing into his elbow. His fingers were tracing the rough concrete next to his sleeping bag. His best friend was sounding distant all of a sudden.

"I've asked Mrs. Delle to reschedule the presentation until after winter break", Ned replied, "Dude, are you feeling any better? You sound super out of it»

"Uh, yeah. I don’t think I can make it tomorrow»

Peter really was not feeling well. He’d tutored his last kid on Tuesday and Rosa had gone on vacation with her family. So, no money, no plug. Basically, he was fucked.

"Well, wish you were here"

"Have a good time in Vancouver, bro. And Merry Christmas"

"Thank you! I’ll send you some pictures!", his best friend said excitedly. 

I’ll try to answer.

Peter rolled into a fetal position, trying to ignore the hammering inside his chest.

--

"Hey, uh...is David here? David Faber?"

"David? David!", the woman yelled. 

"What, Denise?!",  David came downstairs, "Oh. Come upstairs"

"So, uh..."

Peter scrambled for something to say. "Nice room"

It really was huge.

"Drop the act, bro"

"I can't f-fucking concentrate"

David grinned. 

"You're hooked, huh?"

"No, I'm not, I just need them for school", Peter scuffed, annoyed. Why won't he just give me the pills?

"Doesn't your dad have like...Stark money?"

"Fuck off. Fuck off, he's not my dad", Peter waved his index finger around, trying to look intimidating, "and I already used my college money to pay for addies"

David chuckled, "Damn, wish I had a mentor like that"

"Do you have some or not?"

"Alright, Stark boy, but you'll get the next one"

David handed him the bag before shoving him towards the door,

"My dad's been super crazy about monitoring me, you should leave"

--

"Hm"

Peter closed his eyes three days later.

"This is so good"

He knew he should space the pills out, but his hand automatically went into his back pocket to get another one.

"Fuck!", Peter threw the light baggie at the brick wall. Too light.

He was out. 

—

Peter closed his eyes again.

A silent teardrop escaped his left eye lid as he tried to avoid the wave that he knew was coming.

--

Peter shivered. It was risky. It was risky but he had try it. How else would he protect May? She wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand that the pills kept him being productive. 

So, he slung a piece of white cloth around his shoulder and went to the hospital. 

--

He would do this. He would get the pills and bolt out of there. He knew the hospital inside out, all of the emergency pathways in case things went south. He could do this. He needed to do this.

The world was turning to shit, the amazon was burning - he might as well take something to soothe the pain of his inevitable death. 

"May's boy! What do you need?", Marissa, May’s nurse friend asked him. 

Peter traced the wooden surface of the cubicle, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I dislocated my shoulder and I lost my pain-killers. It's Christmas, I can't get the bottle refilled for another week"

"You did what?!", Marissa exclaimed, «May didn’t mention anything!»

Shit.

"Well, yeah, it happened two days ago, so…"

Peter made a note to himself to tell May he got injured on patrol.

Marissa hesitated.

"You know what? You guys are going through a tough time right now, so I will get you a new bottle, free of charge"

"Really?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. You just worry about getting better - before you know it, May will be back here with us" 

She rummaged around in the drawers.

"What were you taking again?"

"Uh…O.C.’s."

"We're out of O.C.’s but I can get you…some…Vicodin?» the rumbling of the drawers did nothing to calm Peter’s nerves. 

"Yes, that's fine"

Peter had to stop himself from greedily snatching the bottle away from her.

"You know when you were little and you stayed here because May worked late, you’d make these lovely drawings of airplanes", Marissa smiled, "Do you still make those?"

"No, I’m busy with school, so…"

"Oh, where do you go?"

"Midtown"

"Oh, that's wonderful! Your aunt never mentioned it, she is always so modest. You've always been such a good boy. You are going to make your aunt very proud one day"

"Uh, well", Peter smiled awkwardly. 

Just give me the pills, Marissa.

And she did.

—

The minute Peter entered their new home, he walked into the community shower and shut the door behind him.

Then, he broke down.

I can't do this anymore, I have to stop. I can't do this anymore. I have to stop.

He turned on the shower tap and let the water flow freely. He turned the temperature to cold and bathed himself in it. Anything to stop that fire inside, that deeply unsettling yearning in his gut. 

"Fuck!", he screamed and threw his shit to the ground.

He gasped for air. His heart was hammering inside his chest.

He popped the lid open.

--

"You flushed it?"

"What the fuck did you flush it for?!"

"I don't know, uh- I'm sorry-"

"You flushed the fucking drugs?," David spat in his face.

"Look, I realized that I don't really wanna do this anymore. O.C's are really f-fucking terrible"

"So, why are you here, then?"

David breathed.

"I need more", Peter whimpered.

David pushed him up against the wall.

"So, get us more"

"You know what, Dave? Get your own fucking drugs!", Peter shoved his friend away from him. 

The other boy landed four feet away from him on the ground, looking stunned. Shit, that was too much force. 

"Hey!", the other boy yelled,  "what the fuck, man?"

"I'm sorry", Peter murmured and turned to walk away. He did not have to wait long.

"I've got a few more but these are the last ones, okay?"

He turned back around and glared at his friend, a wave of relief hitting him. 

"Thank you"

The clear baggie in his friends hand was so good to see. 

He grabbed the baggie and bolted, ignoring his friend's protests. He needed to be alone. He stumbled to the bathroom, splashed water into his face and tried to calm down.

Why do I love these so much?

His hands shook as he grabbed the bag of pills on the sink and brought two of them to his lips. He swallowed them dry. Now that it had already happened he could at least enjoy the moment. He turned off the tap, wrapped a towel around himself and waited for bliss to return. And there it came, a small light at the end of the tunnel. He held onto it with hope but even hope dissipated into the mist. All that was left was...nothing, really.

Hmm.

Yeah, he could live like this.

--

He was walking home from school when his vision went blurry. That last line was definitely too much. 

Next thing Peter knew, he was lying on the floor.

"Hey, you alright?", a voice next to him said. He couldn't open his eyes though, the lights were too bright. 

"Mhm"

"Are you sure? Hey, how old are you? Should I call someone?"

Peter groaned as the person rolled him onto his side.

"'m fine, get off me", he mumbled.

"You don't look too good. I'll call an ambulance"

Peter waited for the person to dial, hurried to his knees and ran.

--

The next morning he woke up, and his head was pounding. So, then he had two coffees and two addies because while he wanted to savor the feeling he needed to wake the fuck up. 

— 

"May? I'm going to Tony's for the weekend", Peter yelled.

"Tony? Since when do you call him by his first name? Is that some kind of superhero spiel?"

I feel comfortable around him. It's better than the shelter.

"No..."

"We have to be polite around these people"

"I know, May» 

"Apologize to him"

"I-I don't think he minds that I call him Tony"

"Have you asked him?", May asked briskly.

"No"

"Then ask him"

"Okay, May, I'll ask him",

"That's my boy"

Peter huffed, annoyed. He was hard pressed to slam the door behind him. 

 —

"Kid, your lips are blue"

"How about hello?»

"Life’s too short for greetings, kid. Why aren't you wearing a winter jacket? Too unstylish for you?"

And Peter didn't want to lie, just this once.

"Winter jackets are expensive"

"Alright. I can pay for a new jacket"

With two scarfs and a huge jacket, and a promise to keep him updated, Peter left the penthouse about three hours later. He still felt a little cold when he went to bed that night, but he couldn't help the small smile on his face. 

He would use the suit more. Be a hero again.

—

"Peter? Peter, they got us an apartment!"

«Huh?», Peter rubbed his eyes, trying to escape the racing dreams that had been plaguing his mind lately. 

"We got an apartment!»

"What?!"

"Somebody keep it quiet around here!"

"Where?", Peter whispered. 

"South Queens*" 

«South Queens?!»

There was a moment of silence and May’s face fell. 

«Honey, I’ve heard crime is not as bad anymore, they built a community center, there's more policing around-«

"No, I’m sorry, May, it’s great», Peter quickly recovered and smiled. 

May smiled and gave Peter a hug, brushing his head of curls out of his face. 

"I love you, my boy. But you’re giving me grey hairs already"

--

Spider-Man was swinging through the city when he got the alert. A robbery.

As predicted, there was a person with a black mask taking out money from the pharmacy’s register. 

«Hey!», Spider-Man yelled, «Didn’t they teach you in kinder garden not to take other people’s stuff?»

The guy stumbled back from the register in surprise, before running away as fast as he could.

«Hey, what are you doing?»

Spider-Man was onto him. His web shooters were fast, clean and he quickly caught up to the guy. 

But then, his eyes fell on what the man was carrying in his right hand and his stance faltered for just a moment.

The druggie’s face changed from one of fear to one of recognition and he stopped in his tracks.

«Wait, you…?»

«What, no, I don’t»

Peter’s heart started racing. 

«You can have some of mine if you let me go»

There was no way that Spider-Man would let that thief go.

But then Peter remembered that warm feeling, that was better than alcohol, better than anything he had ever encountered.

The druggie looked tired, his eyes looking woozy but a smirk appeared on his face as he put the entire bottle into Peter’s hands and scurried off into the distance. His confidence might have seemed believable if Peter had not heard his heart racing the entire time.

And Peter stood there, frozen in place, wishing he had never taken that damn pill. 

Drugs are shit. 

My life is shit.

And yet he swallowed half of those pills dry right on that very door step. He hadn’t felt anything in so long.

*fictional public housing block, NYC

Chapter Text

Pass me the screwdriver?

Peter! Pete! PETER!

"What?", Peter asked as the screwdriver in his hand clattered on the floor.

Shit.

Slowly, he moved to pick up the tool.

Tony, his boss and mentor, cleared his throat before asking, "You would tell me if there was something going on with you, would you?"

"Huh? Yes, of course"

"I mean, I am trustworthy, yes?"

Peter didn't answer. What was he supposed to say to that?

"You would tell me if you were smoking again? I don't want a repeat of what happened at the gala"

And Peter could feel it. A stabbing pain in his chest, right above his abdomen. Where guilt and lies fester. 

And he almost told Tony. 

He did. 

But it was too late now. 

He held his shaking hand behind his back as he swallowed and simply said, 

"Yes, of course. That is never going to happen again"

--

Later that night, in his room inside of that same penthouse, Peter took a deep breath as he set out to snort his seventh line of the day. He didn't want to feel anymore.

All that he felt was shame.

--

"Hi, Karen"

"Hello, Peter. I am noticing a disturbing drop in your blood pressure since I last scanned you. Calling Tony Stark in 5...4...3...2-"

"-No, wait!" Wow, his response time was getting super slow.

"I haven't drunk water all day, so maybe that is why my vitals are whack"

"Okay, Peter. I believe you"

"Thank you", Peter breathed before digging his palms into the stony concrete beneath his fingers.

"Don't do that", his A.I. continued, "Drink some water. You have to take care of yourself. It's not healthy"

Great. Now he was lying to fucking Karen.

--

Peter sat on the inside of his window frame as he enjoyed the view of the dirty brick walls and the thick asphalt in front of the projects. As he breathed in he heard the distant sound of gunshots firing. 

He moved to get his backpack. Be a hero.

This city was going to be the death of him.

--

"Karen, what's going on?"

"There is a shooting on Archer Ave"

"Compile me a list of the weapons, please"

"Of course, Peter"

"Alright, you can do this, Spider-Man", he mumbled to himself,

"You always do this"

hmmm

Get your act together, Spider-Man.

--

hmmmwaitputthethingythereandthenhhmmmmm

"Kid? Are you okay?", Tony asked Peter during their second "spontaneous" lab day in the past 48 hours. Shit, I hope he's not onto me.

"Yeah, I'm just tired"

"Tired?"

"Yeah, I have a lot of homework, so..." Technically not a lie. 

"Yeah, but homework's never been a problem for you, has it?", Tony frowned.

"I've been tutoring kids at school, so..."

"Tutoring", Tony scoffed, "You should really focus on your studies"

And there it was again, a sort of heaviness started pressing down on Peter's chest, suffocating him. And not the good kind. 

"I need the money", he whispered quietly.

Tony looked surprised. Like he just remembered that money...was an issue for some people. 

"You should have told me. I'll arrange for Happy to give you a monthly allowance"

"Oh, I couldn't accept that", Peter said. 

"Don't worry about it. I'm surprised I didn't come up with that earlier"

Give the money directly to May, something inside Peter screamed, I'm just going to spend it on drugs. But the other part of him, the much larger part of him, felt fucking relieved. 

"Thank you", he mumbled. 

May never got the money. 

--

"This is…"

"Yup"

--

Everything was great. 

--

hmm

hmmm

hmmm

--

"Aww shit, man, the pills are awesome. So much ffffucking better than x"

"Yeah"

Peter sank into the pillow. A pillow. He couldn't even remember whose it was.

"True"

It was getting harder to remember things. It was getting harder to care.

--

"Hey, you", someone was jabbing at his back with a pencil. Peter turned around, ready to freak, when he noticed it was MJ.

"...Yes?"

"Where are you headed after detention?"

Peter froze. How did she always know what to ask that would force him to lie? 

He did set out to lie. Name-drop his old neighborhood (not that it was particularly impressive). But this was MJ.

"South Queens"

MJ went quiet. Peter kept quiet too, tracing the outskirts of his hands with a pencil, when she suddenly said, 

"My aunt lives at South Queens"

Peter stared at her notebook. There, right on the first page. She had drawn him. What the fuck.

But then he realized what she was asking. "Are you okay" or whatever.

"I'm fine, MJ"

Peter turned his head. She was ruining his high.

"I'm not allowed to visit her"

"Hm?"

"My aunt"

Push her away.

"Yeah, well, maybe your parents are just pussies"

Good job.

"No, wait, I'm sorry, MJ"

MJ bit her lip and moved her notebook. 

Peter wished she would at least yell at him for being so damn rude

But she didn't. He didn't like the way she was looking at him. Like she was reading him. 

--

"Mister Parker, late again I see"

"I‘m sorry" he mumbled.

"I‘m sorry, what, Mr Parker?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Delle"

"Now, I would ask for the reason for your tardiness but I'm assuming that the dog ate your homework again?"

The class laughed. Peter's face went beet red and he hurried to his seat.

Of course, Peter was never going to tell her that the buses in his new neighborhood were never on time. 

He didn't want her pity.

--

"Hey", David simply said the next time they met up after school.

Peter faltered. Something about his friend seemed...different. 

"Are you high right now? What are you on?"

"Nothing"

"Oh, come on, don't lie to me", Peter laughed, "must be some good shit then"

David put his hands into his pockets, trying to act casual. 

"Dope. Heroin"

Peter laughed. David didn't. 

Peter used his hand to cover his mouth, "Wait, dude, you're serious?"

Peter could feel a tingling in the back of his neck. He ignored it. 

David simply answered, "Yes"

And a sort of morbid curiosity, really nothing more, prompted him to ask, 

"How is it?"

"Fucking awesome"

A glint appeared in his friend's right eye. It made Peter rethink his life choices. But then he chose death anyways.

"I want to try"

--

"Oh my Goood, dude, what the fuuuck??"

"I know", David replied.

"How have you been keeping this from me?"

David shrugged, 

"I didn't think you'd be up for it"

"This is sooo much better than O.C.'s"

"Aww duuude, finally", David smiled and punched his shoulder. Peter flinched.  

The movement made the pit in Peter's stomach return. But the quickly it came, the more quickly it went away. He could get used to this. 

Just floating by. Mellow.

And yet happy. He was definitely supposed to remember something, but he couldn't anymore. As long as he could keep feeling this way, he would be fine.

He would be fine. He would be fine. He would be f-

--

"Dude, where the fuck have you been? I've been calling you all morning", his best friend of ten years confronted him, "I've had to reschedule our presentation again. Mrs. Delle was super mad"

"I don't give a shit anymore, Ned, I really don't"

And then Peter...left. He just...skipped. They wouldn't reach May anyways. Who cares.

--

"PEEETER!

PETER?

PEEETER?

What the fuck?

Peter? 

Wake up.

School's over", his best friend said and shook him awake.

"Thanks", Peter slowly moved and got up, "Catch you later, Ned"

"But?-"

--

Peter was whistling to the tunes of his imaginary concert on his way home. All of a sudden, someone approached him from behind. If he hadn't been so doped out of his mind he would have seen it coming.

Before he knew it, he was pinned against the brick wall of his apartment building.

"Sup, private school? Got anything for us?"

"Huh?"

"You know, you got to pay a toll"

"That's stupid", he replied.

That earned him a punch in his face. Ow.

"You think you're smarter than us?", his presumable friends cheered him on.

"No. Just leave me alone", Peter spat out.

They kept him pinned against the wall as they emptied out his backpack. Please don't let them find - Right there on the bottom, was his-

One of the guys whistled, "Hey, look at this! Private school's doing dope"

"No!", Peter yelled.

That earned him another punch in the gut and he just threw up. With his left eye unable to open and vomit drizzling down his chin he watched the guys pat each other on the backs. 

When they didn't leave and instead proceeded to smoke his shit, he groaned and got up. Using his last bit of strength, he limped into his apartment and bedroom. The slight feeling of unease remained a constant because they were still there, right outside of his window. Laughing. 

What worried him though, most of all, was that he didn't even hurt that much. He just wanted his dope back.

--

"Do you have any more?"

"No"

He pushed David up against the wall. 

"You made me do this, you owe me!"

«Woah, Peter, no-one can make you do anything. We’re practically adults!», David put his hands up in surrender.

Peter sighed.

«Yeah, I know»

David's expression softened. 

«Besides, my dad has cut off all my credit cards»

Peter shivered, "Well, I need something though"

"I don't have anything either"

David always had something.

"How much have you got left"

"Two percs", surely, he had more but Peter was not going to question his friend at the prospect of getting free shit.

"How about you share them with me and we will figure something out?"

"Okay"

--

"I only have twenty dollars with me but I can get you more by next week, I promise, I just need five pills tops"

"Look, the only opiate I can get you right now is heroin and you don't want that"

"Nah, come on, Rosa, you know I don't fuck with heroin" Liar.

And then, the world around Peter got really quiet. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Finally, he moved.

"Is that really all you have?"

"Holy shit. Yes, Peter, but don't do it"

But Peter was feeling more confident in his decision. He had looked up the chemical formula and it was basically the same thing.

"How much for a gram?"

--

And then, Peter and David were in a park. Drawing blood. And then....

It felt so good that he could barely feel it, like it was almost too much happiness for one person to feel. 

He was slipping away into the light but the lights were comfortable, soothing.

He wasn't...himself.

He had finally found what he had been searching for. 

There was a butterfly landing on his hand-

A man in a purple cloak touched his forehead, whispering something into his ear. Next thing, he knew, he was staring at his hand again. He moved his hand and it felt better. Whereas before moving his hand through had felt insanely weighed down, now it felt like losing gravity.

He was a kid again, carefree and wondrous. He was the charge of Virgin Mary.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was still in that alleyway. 

His skin hadn't changed except for that one blue dot on his elbow crease. It felt like his body should have changed for he was an entirely new person now. It felt like destiny.

He was still floating but the longer he stared at the dirty floor the longer his mind screamed at him for more, more! Fuck his metabolism for burning through shit that fast. 

David was drooling next to him. His spider senses could detect a pulse.

Good enough. Now, onto more pressing matters.

There was a long silence of fifteen minutes, one that felt like forever, before-

--

"Where is it?",

Peter asked as he shivered and leaned against the brick wall behind him for support,

"I have the money"

Rosa stared at her phone, "Yeah, whatever, I just need to make a quick call"

She came back a few minutes later,

"Alright, I talked to my supplier and he says that if you want the hard shit you'll have to get it from him from now on"

But, uh, are you sure about this? You know I can get you percs"

Peter scoffed, "Like you care"

Her face hardened. He nervously fidgeted with the cord of his hoodie. She looked him up and down.

"Yeah, you're right, I don't"

Peter left that courtyard one gram heavier.

--

"We should really space these out more.

You know, get some control over it. 

What do you think, David? 

Hellooo.

David"

But David was asleep. 

"David, bro, what are you doing?"

David ignored him. Just kept lying on his side. 

"What the fuck?"

Peter poked David's jab-covered arm.

Then he realized David hadn't been ignoring him. David was cold. David wasn't breathing. What the fuck. What the fuck, "WHAT THE FUCK", Peter yelled. 

"What the fuck's going on?", someone entered the bedroom. Travis.  

"He's been shooting up?", Travis asked, "Why the hell would he do that?"

"I don't know, I didn't know", Peter cried.

"I'm calling an ambulance", Travis whispered, visibly shaken.

The world started getting two-dimensional. Peter tried counting patterns on the wall. He couldn't breathe. Then, there was only darkness.

--

It was an hour later. The cops had left. Together with David, or the empty shell that was left of him. Discarded, dead. An overdose, they had said.

Peter tried crying. He couldn't. 

Instead...he was starting to itch for a release. 

So he found a quiet spot. He inhaled. Felt a wave of emotion coming his way.

And then he slipped the needle into his skin and it didn't really matter anymore. He exhaled.

Chapter Text

Peter's hand was shaking as he typed in the name - "Rosa". He finally exhaled before tapping “delete contact“. 

He was shivering but there was not even a hint of a cold breeze in NYC that day. In fact, the days had been getting longer. 

He stared at the text that had led to his decision, the one that had started it all:

While gnawing at his upper lip, Peter had simply typed:

And so, he had come to a decision. He would withdraw before the funeral. Pay his respects to his best friend. Get his shit together.

A quick google search made him feel smarter: 

Acute withdrawal symptoms:

• Vomiting
• Tremors
• Nausea
• Anxiety
• Insomnia
• Depression
• Hypertension
• Rapid heart rate
• Muscle spasms
• Impaired respiration
• Difficulty feeling pleasure
• Drug cravings

This wasn't too bad, what had he been so scared of? Sure, it would hurt like a bitch but he was Spider-Man. He knew pain. He'd conquered pain. He could handle pain. He liked pain.

So, he found a quiet spot in the city, a rooftop where no-one would bother him. 

He leaned against the concrete barrier and started watching a movie on his phone. 

He ignored the way his body was convulsing ever so slightly. All of a sudden, he flinched too hard and dropped his phone. 

Please, don't- 

Peter moved to pick up the phone. 

Of course, the screen was cracked. 

"Fuck", he cursed.

Finally, he settled for fiddling with his shirt sleeves and praying for the day to be over. 

Then, the nausea set in. And it wasn't the kind of nausea you might experience on a sick day, not even the worst kind of nausea you have ever experienced. It was the kind of nausea that makes you wish you could stick your fingers in your ears and forget you were ever alive. The kind of nausea that makes you want to stick your finger into your throat but also never open your mouth again because it hurts so much and you just want to breathe.

Pain takes over. Pain takes over and all you can do is feel it. Feel the poison ripping you apart as it is trying to leave your body.

Pain, as the monster extends its claws.

The light was blinding.

Then, Peter vomited. His throat hurt. So did his jaw. Everything hurt.

Pain ensures our survival. It keeps us running. It keeps us walking.  

It lets us know when we're in danger. 

When we should run.

Peter sat up. That hurt. He lay down, swaying from side to side. That helped.

Two hours later he was still in unbearable, traumatizing pain.

He coughed and put his fingers into his ears.

"Ew", he cried out when he noticed they were wet. Wet with his own spit.

Endorphins keep us from feeling pain. They give us a rush, a high. But only for a while. The pain always comes back. 

Peter dug his fingernails into his legs. That helped a tiny bit. 

Pain pushes us farther than we ever thought we could go.

Perhaps, farther than we ever should.

He needed to do it, needed to just get through it and prove to himself that he knew what he was doing. He was in control.

We think we can control pain. That we can use it as fuel.

But we can only prolong or distract ourselves from it. Wait, pray for it to be over.

Never, not once, can we get rid of it. 

He shielded his eyes from the sun as the pulsing inside of his skull set in once again.

I am not an addict. Not an addict. 

His throat was clogging up, he was losing oxygen. H was his oxygen.

and he needed oxygen right now.

And you feel like you’re gonna die. That friend you cared about? Gone. The girl you liked? You love drugs more. Nothing matters because it matters. And then, if you‘re lucky, you OD. You survive. You get sober. And you spend the rest of your life wishing you were high. Wishing you were in pain.

Why was he doing this to himself again?

He was dying.

May would mourn him. Mr. Stark might mourn him,

Ned would miss him, MJ might miss him. 

Ow. Mommy?

Fire was burning inside of his lungs. Inside of his brain. 

Why was he doing this to himself again?

Fuck this.

Chapter Text

it's not the withdrawal, 

it's the moments when you feel happy, when you smile, knowing fully well what you're hiding beneath the layers and layers of half-truths, the ones you will never be able to hide once they start to unravel,

it's the moments when you feel happy, knowing you are living on borrowed time,

that's the poison. 

Chapter Text

"Hey, Peter", May said cheerfully, "I put some lasagna into the fridge, you have yourself a special night, okay?"

Peter pulled at his hair with his left hand, trying to focus on anything but the pain and, oh God, vomiting-

"Special night?", he forced out.

Then, he heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Amore, today's February 14th"

Oh. The night that Uncle Ben...

And then, a moment of silence. None of them dared to speak. Peter tightened the grasp on his phone even though the shards were biting into his skin. 

Uncle Ben would be so disappointed in me.

A few deep breaths. Words exchanged without a single word being spoken. Images of that night plunging through the haze that was suffocating Peter. 

"Just promise me one thing"

"Of course, anything", Peter stifled a yawn by biting into the sleeve of his shirt.

"Promise me that I'm not going to lose you"

"I promise", Peter whimpered.

"Amore, are you alright? I can have someone else take over for me if you need me to come home early"

"No, no, don't do that. We need the money. I'm fine"

What's one more lie?

"You're such an angel. When did you get so grown-up?"

And then, May hung up and Peter pretended that his trembling was caused by the nausea. 

And that his phone wasn't broken. 

--

Peter pushed himself upwards from the cowering position he had been in during the past 48 hours. He felt so fucking sad. 

He would not go to Dave's funeral. 

He just...couldn't.

You know, it's funny, he said to no-one in particular, I hate myself and yet I love myself enough to take the pain away...

Getting dope was easy enough. Too easy.

Before Peter knew it he was sitting on the ground in front of a building two blocks away from South Queens, a needle in hand. He found a clean vein (he had been running out of those lately) and pushed the needle into his skin. The prick of the needle only served as a temporary distraction before the drug hit him. 

As soon as the drug hit him, he felt normal. Safe. Jaded.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he had missed the feeling. Shapes were starting to get assimilated into his reality. The entire world was made of shapes, he was a shape too. And thanks to the H he was a perfect triangle, fitting in with all the other triangles. His mother was stroking his hair, singing a lullaby. She gave him a goodnight kiss and he could see her closing his bedroom door. Everything was okay now, he could go to sleep now, his mom would protect him. Everything went pitch black.

Peeter?

Peeter?

Where had he gone?

He groaned, sitting up from the slumped down position that he had found himself in. 

He had no idea how he had even gotten there. He rubbed his face. Ow.

His phone went off. 

"Peter, where are you? I've been calling you all morning!"

"Hey, what's up?"

Peter sighed. Even school seemed so useless now. No teacher had ever taught him how easy it was to just...stop caring. He had done it all by himself. Self-taught.

He chuckled.

"Peter?", a soft, familiar voice brought him back to reality. Sort of. 

"Huh, yeah, Ned, what is it?"

"Our presentation is after lunch, where are you?"

"Oh, yeah...

Look, Ned...

I'm sick, I can't come"

"No, come on dude, my mom is going to kill me if I fail this. Peter, please"

"No, Ned, I can't"

"Come on, dude. My mom ...You know how she gets"

"Ned, listen, I- I can't"

"Please?"

Images of watching Star Wars. Of living moments while being happy, carefree. Of their friendship.

"Alright, I'll see you there"

Peter hung up. What had he just agreed to. He was doped out of his mind. He had not slept, he had not eaten.

Quickly, he scrambled to find at least an addy to pick him up a little.

He stared at the empty bag. He had run out. 

--

School was...muted. It felt nice but it was a feeling he could never quite get used to. And it made it hard for him to find his classroom.

"I...uh...so, in the fifteenth century the Ottomans decided to steal"

Peter struggled through the next fifteen minutes of presenting and they were painful. He could see Ned getting fidgety. He hated that he was giving him anxiety.

"So, uh, and then..."

It was terrible. 

After he had finally been allowed to sit down, the monotone voices of his classmates presenting lulled Peter to sleep.

He awoke to a familiar person shaking his shoulder. She looked serious, sad. Then, MJ spoke,

"You have a drug problem"

"Wait...what? No, I don't. Leave me alone, MJ"

"Dilated pupils, that leaves us with opiates or marijuana. My guess is a combination of the two?"

"What the fuck?", Peter scoffed, ignoring the way his heart was pounding in his chest. 

"My father used to drink a lot"

Peter wanted to leave. But another part of him wanted to stay.

"He thought he could hide it well but I could always tell when he was drunk...or stoned"

"Well, I am not, so can you just leave me alone? I don't care for this"

"I can still picture his «emergency pills» that were never really for emergencies"

Peter could feel his cheeks getting warmer.

"The nights he didn't spend sleeping"

"And the days he missed"

Peter slowly turned back around, his heart beating hard.

"He lost weight"

Time stood still. 

"And the fucked up thing is, when the police arrested him on various charges of theft, I was still surprised that it had gotten this far, that he had stooped this low"

Somehow, through the haze and mist that had surrounded Peter for days now, MJ's words resounded deep within him. And there it lay, the confession, right there on his tongue.

"MJ, I have to tell you something-"

"You're Spider-Man"

"What?! No, I'm not!", his heart started hammering in his chest. How did she know?

"Am I wrong?" 

He couldn't say anything, the anxiety was clogging up his throat.

"Holy shit, I'm right?"

He bit his lip.

"You need to tell your aunt"

"She knows"

"I did not mean Spider-Man. I was talking about you, Peter Parker"

"You don't understand. I can't"

"Yes, you can"

"It would break her"

"It's breaking you"

"I can handle it"

MJ's face darkened. A wave of fear rushed through Peter. 

"Please, please, don't tell her, it would kill her knowing"

Then, his display lit up.

MJ quickly caught on.

"Tony Stark as in...Tony Stark.

The Tony Stark"

"He's...kind of my boss", Peter finally replied in an attempt to make her back off. 

Clearly, MJ was not impressed by the billionaire-turned-philanthropist. She put her hand on his shoulder. Peter resisted the urge to flinch.

"It's either your aunt or your boss. You're telling someone"

Peter felt sick. And then, he made his choice. 

"My boss"

"Okay"

Fuck. Tony Stark is going to kill me.

Chapter Text

HEY EVERYONE

expect…more content I guess? I still don‘t know when I‘m getting my laptop back because it‘s at my ex boyfriend‘s place and things are messy right now. I don‘t really know what I‘m doing anymore, instead rehab has really changed me to become a better person. kinda wild. 

I can‘t wait to write again!! <3 Thank you so much for your comments, I will respond individually if I have more time and energy in the future.

Chapter Text

The drive to the tower was silent. Peter could not stop shivering. His legs were shaking like hell.

I’m such a piece of shit. I don’t deserve MJ.

MJ moved her hand. Slowly, her hand wrapped around his. Finally, his body stopped shaking.

As they reached Stark Tower, Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

Peter nervously fiddled with his earphone cable. This was a mistake. 

But then, MJ gently squeezed his hand.

“Stay”, MJ whispered-

”Okay”, Peter mumbled and squeezed her hand back.

Like a thousand times before, Peter walked inside Stark Tower. But this time was different. He felt like a criminal. Peter could hear his heart thumping inside his rib cage.

—

“Tony Stark? We need to talk to you”, MJ knocked on a wooden door, which quickly opened to reveal a tiny office.

“Can this wait?”, the old, scrawny-looking guy who had opened the door moaned, “Tony, didn’t know you hung out with teenagers. Should I be concerned?”

“Shut up, Glenn, “, Tony said and followed them outside. “You’re fired”

“You’re not my b-“

The door closed.

“Wow, that guy does not know when to shut up”, Tony sighed, “So, what’s up?”

“Was that the Head of the Ministry of Defense?”, MJ asked, momentarily stunned.

“Yes, so annoying“, Tony scoffed, “So, what’s up?”

MJ softly squeezed Peter’s hand one more time before letting go.

“He needs to tell you something”

Tony narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Peter.

“Tell me what?”

Peter’s throat closed up.

He wanted to disappear.

Tony pinched the area between his eyes.

“Can we go someplace more quiet?”, Peter whispered.

“Sure, we can go upstairs”

So, there they were. Peter, Tony and MJ, all huddled together in a tiny elevator.

“Sorry for the space issue. This elevator is a secret. Figured you would not want to go into the main elevator, there’s dozens of people there at all times”

Peter gnawed at his upper lip. He felt like was standing at the top of a cliff, waiting to jump.

Finally, they walked into a big, shiny office.

“You guys can sit wherever you want”

Peter and Mj took a seat on chairs that definitely cost more than a month’s rent.

“So, what’s up?”

Peter cleared his throat. The words did not want to come out.

“Look, it’s not a big deal-”

“Is she pregnant?”, Tony asked.

“What? No!”, Peter and MJ yelled at the same time.

“You can address me directly”, MJ added, “not an object”

An awkward silence ensued.

Peter’s cheeks turned a crimson shade of red.

Tony sighed.

“Okay, then, spit it out, Pete”

“I’ve been kind of…going out a lot”, Peter started.

“Going out where?”, Tony repeated, still not understanding.

“Partying. At night”

“Partying where?”

“Uptown”

“So your messed up sleep schedule is not due to homework. Is being an enhanced crime-fighting vigilante not enough risk-taking behavior for you?”, Tony shouted, “Is this what you’ve been lying to me about?”

“Alright, I can see you have someone to take care of you. Call me if you need something”, MJ said and got up.

And with that, she left him alone with one of the richest, most powerful men in all of America.

“I’ve been doing…pills”, Peter said so silently, most people would have overheard. But Tony Stark was listening very avidly.

“What did you just say?”, Tony asked in an ominous whisper.

“It’s not dangerous”, Peter mumbled, “I have super healing”

“You’re telling me you’ve been doing fucking drugs and you think it’s not fucking dangerous?”

“I study better when I’m on them”

“Are you actually that stupid? Stop justifying it”

“Look, it’s my body, I decide what to do with it. I’m almost eighteen!”

“We’re not talking a fucking piercing or hair dye, you could die!”, Tony yelled.

“It’s no different to what I do on patrol”

“Don’t bring Spider-Man into this”

“The pills are prescribed!”

“Were they prescribed to you?”

“No. Doing this helps me. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”, Peter jumped up and walked towards the door.

“First of all, it’s not helping you it’s killing you”

“I’m sixteen”, Peter moaned and turned back around, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Let me finish talking: I’m not leaving you to destroy yourself, who do you think I am, kiddo? You’re human. You think I don’t care about you?”

“No”, Peter whispered, “Why would you care about me?”

He felt dizzy and lent against the door. Slowly, his legs gave in and he sank to the floor.

“Jesus Christ, kid”

Tony’ voice was starting to feel distant, far away. Was the room spinning or was he?

Tony shook him.

“Are you high right now?”

Don’t smile, Peter, fuck. Peter couldn’t help it.

“Yes”, he finally said.

Tony stared at his arms all of a sudden

Peter followed the man’s gaze.

As his hands had moved to pull at his hair, his sleeve had ridden up. His innermost pain, the ugliest part of him, ready to be judged.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

This was it.

All of the work. The months of lying. Gone in a second.

It looked really ugly, so different to what shooting up felt like. All of the hiding and lying through his teeth was there, not as the relief that it felt like, but for the ugly, blue marks on his skin, the self-mutilation that it was.

All of a sudden, Tony was towering over him, looking ready to murder. He grabbed his elbow before Peter could move away.

“What..the fuck is that?”

Peter wanted to disappear right then and there. Drown at sea. Anything to avoid being there.

“You use less of it when you inject. It’s not a big deal, just financial reasons-“

“FINANCIAL-“

“Tony?”, Pepper poked her head in, “Can I talk to you outside?”

“Am I supposed to just leave him here?”, Tony looked bewildered, out of his mind, really.

“Helen will look him over, examine him”, Pepper said softly.

“Oh, right”, Tony followed Pepper outside.

“Listen to me. He’s a child. If you want to help him, you need to stay calm. Are you listening to me? Hey, are you breathing?”

“No”, Tony choked out, “he’s been doing fucking drugs”

“One”

“One”

And as the two adults counted, Helen stepped into the room.

“Hi, Peter”

And then, Peter had to list the pills he’d been taking. And any other substances. And how much. Fuck, the list was kind of long. Had he really taken that much this morning?

Helen examined the marks on his arms.

“Did you use new needles?”, she asked.

“Yes”

“Good, but we will test you for HIV and other common infections from intravenous drug use, and continue to monitor you over the next few months. Good news is given your history of fighting off infections before they enter your body, as well as your fast metabolism make it unlikely you will suffer from any permanent infection”

“Okay…”, Peter gulped.

“How are you feeling? Are you experiencing any dizziness?”, Helen asked.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling frustrated, mostly”, Peter replied and crossed his arms.

Tony walked back into the room, Pepper in tow.

“You guys realize I have super hearing, right?”

Now, Pepper looked guilty. Fuck, did not mean to make Pepper feel bad. I’m a monster.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”, Tony finally asked.

“You wouldn’t understand”

“Oh, trust me, I DO”

“You’ve been filthy rich all of your life. You don’t know what it’s like in the real world”, Peter spat out.

“Maybe not”, Tony replied dryly, “but I do know a thing or two about drug use, I’m two years sober, as you know.”

Peter rolled his eyes at Tony.

“So?”

“My father”, Tony continued, “he was a well-respected man but not very kind”

Peter’s heart sank.

“Fuck, I’m sorry”

“Yeah”, Tony said, “Look, kid, I may not have experienced everything that you have, but I’m here. You’re not alone, okay?”

Peter pressed his hands into his knees in a desperate attempt to keep them from shaking.

“God, what is wrong with me”, Peter gnawed at his hands, trying desperately to find some kind of relief for how he had been itching all over. Helen rushed to his side.

“The withdrawal must be setting in”, she said.

“Uh…what now?”, Peter asked.

Tony crossed his arms, mirroring Peter,

“You, kid, are getting every last drop of that position out of your body. You are detoxing. Right now”

Chapter Text

“Where did you get the drugs?“, Tony's voice was calm but his forehead was knotted. Fingernails bit into his palms.

“It doesn’t matter“, Peter said.

“I'll decide what matters, kid“

“Fuck you, I don’t remember." Like hell he was going to give away his only chance at getting out of this.

Tony’s face reddened. Red spots crept up his neck. 

“You look like you’re going to implode soon“, Peter chuckled, then groaned as pain stabbed through his stomach. He toppled forward, two hands on his shoulders keeping him from face-planting.

“Who gave you the drugs, Peter Parker?“

Peter winced at the sound of his full name. "Just...a friend"

"Ted?"

“His name’s Ned“

“Ned?“

Peter snorted. “Ned builds LEGO sets. He doesn’t do drugs.”

"You used to like building LEGO sets", Tony said quietly.

Peter sighed.

"I got them from David. And another guy, but he was kind of creepy"

"Creepy how?"

"I don’t...I don’t want to talk about it"

Tony looked irritated.

"We’ll talk about that later. Who's David?", he asked.

"Remember that gala we went to a couple of months ago?"

"When you decided to feast on prosecco and who else knows what? Fuck, how long has this been going on for?"

Peter didn’t answer. He felt his cheeks starting to get flushed, his whole body getting uncomfortably warm.

"It was just ecstasy at first, and a few beers every now and then. We hit it off"

"Right. He’s not coming near you ever again. I’ll make sure of that. Hell, I’ll call his father right now. That bast-", Tony reached towards his phone. 

“That won’t be necessary. He’s dead“, Peter whispered.

The room went so quiet that Peter could hear his own pulse. 

"What?"

"He overdosed", Peter said, "Couple weeks ago"

Tony’s face went ash gray. He swallowed hard before his next question. Like the mere thought of asking the question pained him.

“Do you...want to die?“

“Fuck no. I just don’t want to live like this-"

Peter ran into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet bowl. He threw up, he couldn’t breathe.

Tony sat down next to him and asked, "Are you okay with me putting my hand on your back?“

Peter nodded, unable to utter another word, before throwing up again.

He still couldn’t breathe. Vomited again. Stars swam in his vision, and there was blood in the toilet—he was sure it hadn’t been there before. 

"Fuck, kid“, Tony cursed, "I’ll be right back“

It felt like an eternity before Tony came back, followed by Helen Cho.

Helen started measuring Peter’s pulse.

“This isn’t safe, Tony“

“He’s on heroin, Helen. None of this is safe“

“That’s why. His body’s been through a lot, he’s lost a lot of fluids. He needs to be tapered off“

“I don’t want him on any more drugs“

“He won't be if he dies. He’s enhanced, we don't even know how his system will react“

Tony sighed. Peter laid his forehead on the toilet bowl. His head was feeling so heavy.

"Do what you need to do, Helen“

“Okay, Peter, can you take a deep breath for me?“, Helen asked.

Peter started shaking, grabbing onto the toilet bowl and another gush of blood came rushing out and into the bowl.

He could feel the prick of a needle in his arm and before he knew it, he started sinking towards the floor.

“What did you...give me?“, he asked, feeling drowsy.

"A low dose of Suboxone. We will taper you off slowly. You have lost a lot of fluid and it’s not safe to continue like this"

Peter barely registered the prick of another needle and watched as Helen hooked him up to an IV.

"It’s saline and minerals. You’ve lost a lot of blood"

Peter started scratching at his forearms. His skin was still so, so itchy.

Before he knew it, his hands were being stopped by his mentor.

“Don’t you think you’ve put your body through enough?” Tony’s voice cracked with anger.

"Go easy on him, Tony. I’ll come by in half an hour, check his pulse. Make sure he’s breathing and doesn’t pass out. If anything worsens or he passes out, press the button next to the door."

"Okay", Tony simply said, eyes fixed on Peter. His voice sounded stern, dangerous. 

Peter stopped resisting, letting his arms drop to the floor. 

Absolute dread filled every inch of his body. He knew what it was like, he knew he would never be able to stop himself from using. Even if he did withstand the withdrawals, he would need it back after a few days anyways.

"Can I step outside for a minute? I need some fresh air"

“That’s not going to happen,” Tony said flatly. “Nice try, kid.”

--

"You think it's fun to spend my Friday afternoon like this?"

Peter winced like Tony had slapped him.

"You don't have to be here", Peter said. 

Tony sighed, "I know."

"This would be so much easier if you just let me use one more time. That way I can be more prepared for detox“

"Look, Pete, you are going into detox right now. If you scream, if you cry, I don't care. But you are not putting any more of that poison into your body. It's been killing you, it's been killing you for months and you don't even realize it.

You think it's been helping you? It's what has been killing you."

Peter took a deep breath, "I gotta pee"

"Go ahead, there is no window in this bathroom"

Peter hesitated.

"And I've alerted FRIDAY, you won't be getting security clearance anytime soon"

"Whatever, doesn’t matter", Peter sighed.

"You should drink some water", Tony poured two glasses of water and handed one to Peter.

"Fuck!" Peter yelled and threw his glass of water at the blank wall, finally letting go of the last bit of hope that he would get through this unscathed. 

Before he knew it, he was being pulled into a tight hug. Everything hurt.

Peter thrashed around in Tony's arms. 

"Please, Tony, let me go“

"Let me go!"

He broke free despite being weakened by the uncontrollable shivers that he knew from the first time and made his way to the steel door. Of course, it was locked. 

He turned around as he was, crouched on the floor. 

"Tony, please, I just need one more. One more dose and I will be okay. Just give me a hit

"I just need half a gram, please. Come on, I need it."

"Please. Once more and I'll stop."

“Dad,” Peter whispered, voice cracking. “Please. I promise I’ll stop.”

Before Tony could answer, the pain set in. 

Peter screamed. 

"Come on, Tony, just open the door. OPEN THE DOOR"

Tony's knuckles went white as he was in the awkward position of hugging Peter as a wave of vomiting swept over him - but he didn't let go. 

"Come on", Peter rasped, "I just need something. I'll take anything"

"Well, you're not getting anything",

Tony spat out. 

"Oh, come on, you didn't even notice I was high out of my fucking mind for months. What's one more day?"

"A lot can happen in a day", Tony replied, stone-faced. 

Peter groaned. 

-- 

"No, come on, let me out, please"

Peter started crying. Please, please, let me out, let me out. At some pain he was vaguely aware of Tony (or someone?) gently wrapping his wrist in gauze and bandages. He started screaming again. 

The next time he could feel something other than pain (contempt), he opened his eyes. 

"Have some water"

Peter cautiously took a sip and spit out the entirety of the contents onto the marble floor. The sip tasted like bile. That was all he was now: A puddle of bile on the marble floor, a stain that needed to be washed out.

What a waste. He smiled anyway — bitter and hollow. Gallows humor.

"Damn it, Peter, is this a joke to you?", Tony asked.

"No, it's not", Peter groaned. 

"Hang on. Yes, FRIDAY?"

--Mrs Parker is trying to gain access to the compound, Sir. Correction, Sir, she is inside of the compound--

Moments later, the door flew open, May came in and quickly approached Peter.She took his hands, her eyes sharp and unforgiving — no more dodging, no more lies.

"Peter, bambino, what’s going on here?", she asked sternly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry", was all Peter managed to piece together.  

May pulled Peter into a tight hug, sobbing. He felt like he was being crushed, maybe he was.

"So, it’s true, what they said?"

Peter avoided May's gaze. He took a sudden interest in the dirt underneath his fingernails. Finally, he spoke:

"I can’t do this anymore"

"No, no, honey, it's okay - you can do this"

"How do you know?", Peter’s eyes filled with tears.

“My mom used to say—it’s okay to fall. Just as long as you get back up. You’ve got to get back on your feet, Peter"

Peter started bawling his eyes out, feeling weirdly satisfied with the balls of spit forming at the corners of his mouth.  It felt like needles were piercing into his skull.

His stomach twisted in violent cramps. He couldn't breathe. The shivering and shaking returned with full force. May flinched and stepped back, helpless. 

"I'll watch over him. He'll be fine", Tony said.

"No, he won't!", May exclaimed, tears streaming down her face, "You’ve done enough, I’m taking him home!"

"I've got a team of specialist-

"Fuck your specialists! What did they do for my boy, huh?"

Pepper stepped into the room.

"With all due respect to your rights as his legal guardian, May, I really think it’s best Peter remains under medical supervision. Why don’t we two step outside for a bit, talk? I’ve cancelled my meetings for the day"

May hesitated and looked back at Peter, tears streaming down her face.

"I’m so sorry, honey, this is all my fault. I should have protected you, il mio figlio"

Peter stared at the drool on his fingertips and the floor. He lost track of time.

Thank you, Pepper.

Then, he and his mentor were alone.

He started shivering, hallucinating for a brief moment that he was back in that dark alley Queens. The alley faded. He was back—face down on the cold floor of the compound.

His voice sounded raspy as he started speaking,

"How much longer until the cravings stop?"

“You’ll crave it the rest of your life, kid,” Tony said quietly. “But you’re not alone. Not anymore. I'm right here."

And Peter let go.

Chapter Text

"Are you going to make me talk about my feelings again, Mrs. Lae?" Peter leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Trust me, I’ve tried. It doesn’t change anything," he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

Mrs. Lae, Peter’s new in-patient therapist, tilted her head, as if in doubt, before reaching into her handbag to grab a sheet of paper. She clicked her pen.

"We’re going to do something a little different today. I’m going to ask you a series of questions. You don’t have to answer fast, Mr. Parker—just answer honestly."

Peter nodded silently. His jaw hurt. He had been grinding his teeth all morning.

"Have you ever used drugs to push away a memory or to numb overwhelming feelings?"

"Uh… yes. Who doesn’t?"

Peter shifted nervously in his seat. What was this lady on about?

"Have you ever had alcohol in order to sleep better?"

"Uh, yes. I prefer not having nightmares." Peter squinted at Mrs. Lae. "Do you always ask super obvious questions?"

"How often do you get nightmares?" Mrs. Lae continued, seemingly unfazed by Peter’s barely contained rage.

Great, another withdrawal symptom. Love those.

"Uh… is this a trick question? Every night. Well… not lately. Lately, I barely dream at all."

"Are there ever thoughts—images from your past—that you can’t get out of your head? You try to mentally swat them away, but they stick to you, like a spider web?"

"Yes, but that happens to everyone, right?" Peter’s knee bounced under the table. He hadn’t realized he was doing it until Mrs. Lae glanced down.

"Is there any particular incident that shows up—in your nightmares or when you’re awake?"

Peter stopped in his tracks. His body went cold. He fell into deep, cold water. A loud noise. Blood on his hands. The sound of a child crying.

--

Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben—don’t leave. Uncle Ben, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me.

--

Mr. Parker?

--

Mr. Parker, can you hear me?

--

screaming

--

blood

--

"I’m going to give you this bottle. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

--

so much blood

--

"Oookay, perfect. Nice. Deep breath."

--

With a jolt, Peter came up for air.

"Mr. Parker, can you open your eyes for me?"

Peter slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the flickering ceiling lights. Had they been flickering before? Mrs. Lae was looking at him, eyes slightly widened. She was out of breath.

"What was that?" His nose was burning.

"Ammonia. Do you know where you are?"

"The...psych hospital"

"Name one thing that’s blue in this room."

"Your shoes?"

Mrs. Lae smiled and nodded encouragingly.

"Nice. And one thing that’s green?"

"The… plant?"

"What day is today?"

"Monday."

"Okay. Here, have this. It’s very spiky—careful. It’s a massage ball and can help with staying present. Try to roll it in your hand and notice the sensation. It should be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt."

Peter held the spiky ball in his hands.

"Hm."

"Mr. Parker, has this ever happened before?"

Peter grabbed the spiky ball. The needles dug into his palms. 

"Sometimes."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No."

"What you just experienced was a flashback. I have strong reasons to believe you might be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder."

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

"That’s what… veterans get, right? I haven’t been to war."

"People get PTSD for many different reasons. War, violence, abuse. It’s not always war—in fact, most of the time, it isn’t. I’ve printed out a few questionnaires, and I’d like you to fill them out for next time. I would also love to discuss the next steps of your treatment plan with my supervisor, is that okay with you?"

"Yes…" Peter sighed, "Anything else?"

Mrs. Lae tilted her head again.

"Is there anything else you’d like to talk about today?"

"No." Peter inspected his shoelaces. They were quite stained—definitely not up to Stark standards.

"Okay, then we don’t have to keep talking. It’s your time, and you get to decide what we do with it."

Peter paused for a moment.

"So if I want to stare at the wall for fifty minutes every session, that’s my decision as well?"

"Sure." Mrs. Lae smiled encouragingly. "You don’t have to talk about your past or your feelings. But you know that you can talk about them, right? Anything we discuss here stays in this room."

"You’re not going to snitch on me?"

"No."

"Not even to Mr. Stark?"

"Not even to Mr. Stark."

"Okay." Weird lady.

"There are some things that I don’t want to talk about," Peter said, feeling his cheeks go warm. "It’s all a little bit personal. Like… stuff with my friend."

"David?"

Peter narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know about David?"

"You mentioned him last session. Said he got you into using drugs."

I really need some H right now. I can’t keep thinking about this.

"Oh… yeah, him."

--

Cold skin. He’s not breathing. The prick of a needle—

--

"I’m getting a little tired. Can we end the session for today?"

"Sure." Mrs. Lae got up and shook Peter’s hand.

"Until next time, Mr. Parker."

"Where should i put the massage ball?"

"You can keep it."