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The second Mr. Harrington announced debate practice was done, I was out the door. There’s not like there’s a reason to wait when Ned is sick and MJ needs to stay after to prepare for the upcoming competition. Besides, getting home sooner rather than later is always safer. And I need safer after a day like today.
Instinctually I reached to my back pocket to grab my phone, mentally preparing myself to call Papa to come pick me up, only for my phone to not be there. Shit, I left it in my locker. Though I desperately wanted him to just be outside waiting, I know he’s too busy for that, I’m lucky if him or dad are able to pick me up at all. Not that I don’t want Happy to pick me up, it’s just, it’s not the same as one of your dads getting you from school.
And I just really need my dads today, I don’t care if it sounds childish. I mean, even a teen can wish for comfort after a shitty day, right?
Reaching my locker, I had barely just touched the lock when my spidey sense called out, but there’s nowhere to go. Though I braced myself, the harsh slap to my butt still filled me with such an intense amount of uncomfortableness.
“Hey Penis,” the dreaded voice sounded, as cocky as ever, “why’d you leave debate so quick? You just overcome with lust for me you had to leave my godly presence?” I’m not sure if he was laughing more at his idiotic joke or at me. I’m not sure which is worse. I would have gagged at his inclinations if I knew that wouldn’t make the situation infinitely worse.
Just as I got my locker open to retrieve my backpack and phone, Flash was slamming it shut again, stealing any chance at contacting my Papa or Dad. “C’mon Penis, don’t act uncomfortable, we both know you love me touching you.”
God please make him leave me alone, please please leave me alone. As much as I want to say his words don’t bother me anymore, they do. After dealing with his mocking and jeering all day, just.. please leave me alone.
But I know better than to believe he actually would, “how can you not love it, it’s in your DNA after all, with those two gay dads of yours.” I don’t even know what sexuality I am… And that’s not even true, it’s not right to assume they are gay just because they are two married men. Being two men together doesn’t change Papa from being omnisexual and Dad from being Bi, it doesn’t change their sexualities.
Flash kept his hand on my locker to keep me from opening it again, keeping me from fleeing. Though I could easily push him away and access my locker, I can’t. Spider-Man can do that, Peter Stark-Rogers can’t.
Biting my lip, I stayed silent, keeping my eyes on the locker, as if ignoring him would actually make him stop, “what, you don’t like me calling you gay? Maybe you’re the homophobic one.” God why won’t he stop? “What would your dads say if they saw you now? Seeing how weak and pathetic you are you can’t even say anything.” I furiously blinked back the tears pressing at my eyes, no no I can’t let myself cry. I can’t, I can’t let him see that I really am as weak as he says. Superheroes don’t cry just because someone is mean to them.
Do I even have the right to call myself a superhero?
He took his hand from the locker and grabbed me by the shoulders, aggressively turning me towards him, “you’re so pathetic you can’t even look at me? How could superheroes like your dads want someone like you? I doubt they do, scratch that, I know they don’t, they just pity you for being an orphan.” By then I was biting my lip so hard I’m surprised it didn’t start bleeding yet.
And as much as I hate to admit it, isn’t he right? I’m so weak I can’t even tell him to stop, let alone make him. I just let it happen over and over and over.
As if he read my thoughts, he sneered, “you know you deserve this. If you can’t even defend yourself then you deserve what you get.” He's right, he’s right if I can’t stand up for myself then I deserve to be broken down. I deserve it, I always deserve it.
He just doesn’t know when to quit, “it makes sense really, with such disgusting and stupid parents how could you-” that is when I finally spoke up, despite my better judgment screaming otherwise.
He can say whatever he wants about me, but how dare he talk badly about my dads! “Stop! You-”
But he was quick to shut me up, “oh did little Penis finally grow balls?” He wasn’t phased in the slightest by my short outburst, “you finally had enough? What are you gonna do, huh? What?” He had the audacity to snicker as he taunted me.
Something in me just… broke.
Before I even realized what I was doing, before I could actually think and stop myself, I was pushing him away from me. I shoved him off of me and away from my locker, into the empty hallway. Eyes wide, I swiftly turned, using all the self control left in me from ripping the locker door off it’s hinges. The second my locker was open, I was snatching my bag up, slamming the door far too hard before sprinting away from it, from Flash.
Once I flew out the doors and was outside, instead of getting my phone out of my backpack and calling Papa like I was supposed to, I instead turned and ran along the outside of the building. Upon finding a secluded spot behind a tree, I collapsed against the school wall, throwing my backpack away from me.
Oh god what did I do? Oh my god I pushed Flash, what is wrong with me?! I could have hurt- no I could have killed him if he hit his head! God, I’m a monster, I’m a villain, I almost killed a kid. How can I call myself a hero when I go around pushing defenseless teens?
I’m not a hero, no I deserve the mocking and insults and everything, I deserve it. I’m a bad person, I’m so so bad I don’t deserve comfort, I don’t deserve my dads. I deserve to sit here alone and- and god I’m so weak…
I’m so pathetic just my stupid thoughts are enough to make me cry. I didn’t bother try to press back the tears escaping my eyes, there’s no use anyway. With each cry, my chest tightened, combined making my breathing more erratic. Why- why can’t I breathe, god, what is wrong with me?
I don’t deserve to call my dads, I don’t deserve to get help. I don’t even deserve to be able to cry here like baby, I deserve Flash’s words. It’s not like he’s wrong…
My sobs wrecked my body, trembling all over I could barely manage my hiccuping breaths. Before I could even release the next pathetic sob, there was a buzzing too loud too loud too loud. Darting my tearful eyes around, hands pressing against my ears, I realized it was my phone. I never called to say debate was over, and I’m just sitting here wasting time.
I tried to force air into my lungs, but the most I could get was small gasps cut off my larger sobs in the place of exhales. The more my phone buzzed the harder I cried, it’s too much everything is too much. By the time my phone stopped buzzing, called missed, it was only a second before it began again. I need to answer, it’s not an option I’ll get in trouble if I don’t answer, I can’t break one of their biggest rules just because I’m being stupid and crying.
But I can’t pick up the phone crying either. Reluctantly, I moved my hands from attempting to block my ears from the sound to my eyes, pressing them, hoping that would keep the tears in my eyes. But it just doesn’t work like that, just another stupid idea from a stupid person.
It’s not like I can tell them about Flash, it would be selfish to worry them over something that’s my fault. Not like they don’t know about Flash, but they can’t know how much worse it’s gotten. They have enough on their plates already, they shouldn’t have to deal with their weak sons issues too. Especially issues I deserve and even if I didn’t deserve it I should be able to handle it. It’s better if I take the bullying anyway, it’s better, I know it is. If I take it then his attention is on me rather than someone who doesn’t deserve it.
God why can’t my phone stop ringing? I’m such a bad person, I’m making them worried just because I’m too weak to stop crying long enough to answer one dumb phone call. I’m probably making them so worried and upset and and I don’t deserve their worry, and they don’t deserve to worry over the likes of me.
That thought only made me cry harder, when will I run out of tears? At least they won’t think I got kidnapped or something, they’ll just track my phone location and find me. God they’ll find me crying here like a loser.
As much as this absolutely sucks , maybe it’s good. Maybe it’s for the best. Cuz at home I cant break down, I can’t let myself cry like this. The second I even tear up, the little miss tattletale of an AI is telling on me. If I let everything out now then by the time they find me maybe maybe I can be done crying and can be able to take whatever punishment for disobeying the phone rule without tears.
More than a few disgusting sobs later, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Curling up even tighter, I buried my head in my arms, hiding my face which I know must be as red as my Dad’s Iron Man suit. I need to stop crying, I need to stop crying, I need to stop crying I need to stop cryingIneedtostopcryingIneedtostopcryingIneedtosto-
“Hey Pete,” my Papa’s voice whispered, why doesn't he sound pissed? I heard him lean down, sifting on the grass in front of me. “What’s going on, you didn’t answer your phone?” He places his hand on my small shoulder, I didn’t mean to stiffen before I melted in the comfort. “C’mon Pete, can you show me your face?”
How can he be so patient when I’m being so weak? He probably assumes I got hit or something, wanting to make sure I’m not physically hurt or anything. It would have been better if I was injured, but no I’m not the victim I’m the bully.
When I couldn’t bring myself to look up at my Papa, he whispered, “what’s going on?” I shook my head, just leave me here to cry , “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
That’s when I finally spoke, voice quivering and almost inaudible, “‘m stupid.”
“Pete you are anything but stupid.” Anything but stupid? How about weak and pathetic and a disappointment and and god flash is right.
I finally raised my head to see the concerned face of my papa “‘m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I pleaded, tears once again filling my already puffy eyes.
He looked at me so softly, so full of care and love and I don’t deserve it , “You don’t need to be sorry.”
I shook my head, though it hurt from all the sobbing, “But I- I didn’t call or answer.”
“Nevermind that for now,” he tried to assure me before moving onto the elephant in the room, “what happened?”
I just, I can’t tell him. “..nothing,” I lied and I know we both know it’s a lie, “where’s Dad?”
He let out a sigh, god I’m a disappointment , “We both know that’s a lie. And I know you’re just trying to distract from the question,” he cut off my automatic ‘sorry’, “Stop apologizing you have nothing to apologize for. Your Dad had an emergency SI meeting. Believe me he wanted to be here but Pepper would have head his head on a plate if he ditched another meeting,” he paused for a second, seemingly deciding something before speaking again, “Was it flash?”
My eyes widening and my mouth opening and closing like a brainless fish answered that without even needing to say a word. “What did he do?” God I know how much Papa doesn’t like bullies.
“He didn’t-”
He sighed again, “It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk, but lying is worse.”
I hid my head in my arms again, this time from my overabundance of shame “I’m sorry, shit, not supposed to apologize, I didn’t mean to… I wanna apologize again.” I'm such a disappointment. “It was nothing. Just- it was nothing I couldn’t handle,” I ended in a mumble.
He narrowed his eyes, “That’s not the same as nothing,” his gaze softened once again, “I’m not upset or disappointed if something did happen,” I wish that could be true, “I just want to try to help.”
How can you help me be less weak and less scared and be able to stand up for myself? “You can’t help me” stupid stupid answer, but I bit down my automatic apology.
“I know that’s not true.”
I can’t win can I? “He just says stuff, it’s normal it’s nothing.” Nothing isn’t the same as normal though.
His voice was so much more gentle than I expected, “It’s not nothing if it made you cry.” I didn’t mean to look down. “Hey, hey it’s okay to cry,” when I looked up again with my stupid glassy eyes is when my Papa pulled me into a hug. Being in his strong arms, hearing his heart with my head against his chest, that’s when I broke again. With every cry I spilled out more apologies.
I felt one of his hands rubbing my back as the other one held me close.
I’m being so childish, I’m a disgrace to the Stark-Rogers name, “He doesn't- he won’t stop saying things,” I cried.
He hushed me soothingly, “It’ll be okay Pete, I’ll make sure he stops.”
I shook my head,“He won’t stop, he never stops, I deserve it,” I insisted.
“Peter look at me,” he waited until I looked up, lip quivering and tears escaping, “You never deserve to be bullied, no one does.” He doesn’t understand.
I shook my head again, “no, no you don’t understand it’s better if it’s me, if it’s me then- then it protects anyone else from being hurt.”
He let out a deep breath, “Peter, you know I know how that feels, I used to get beat up to stand up for others all the time. And as much as you want to help others, it doesn’t mean you deserve or should get hurt, physically or emotionally.”
I was quiet for a few breaths before I asked, voice small, “Will you- Are you gonna tell Dad?”
He let out yet another deep breath, “He already knows you weren’t responding to my calls,” well as expected, “so he knows something is wrong he just doesn’t know what.”
Still holding onto him like a koala, eyes downcast, “Will he be- is he mad? ...Are you mad?”
“No, of course not. Neither of us are mad, just concerned.” But I deserve their anger, I deserve them to be mad.
Before I could second guess, I admitted, “...I pushed him, Flash I mean…” I sound like a literal baby, “he kept saying stuff about you and dad, like he can say whatever he wants about me but I just, when he started talking about you…” I tried to force in a reasonably deep breath, “I couldn’t take it and and he wouldn’t let me open my locker and I just- I’m a bad person, I’m bad.”
He told me completely seriously, “Peter, you’re not a bad person,” before getting to the more important part, “Was he hurt?”
I don’t think so? “No… no I just made him move away from my locker. He fell though, into the hall not into a wall or anything.”
“I don’t condone you pushing him,” it wasn’t exactly a scolding, “but I am proud of you for standing up against him and making him stop.”
Wait what? “What- I don’t understand,” I looked up at him while he still held me, “how could you be proud of me? All I did was push him and run off crying like… all I did was cry.” Like a weak idiot, I finished in my head.
His voice was filled with so much sincerity, “I’m proud of you for not wanting to hurt him like he hurts you,” is that good? “And for talking to me even though it’s hard. I’m so so proud of you,” he squeezed me tighter in a comforting hug, “Now why don’t we go home, I’ll make you cookies if you want.” He always knows how to make me feel better. I don’t even need to ask anymore and he just knows what to do, like some sorta dad instinct. I wouldn’t be surprised if him and Dad had an instinct like that.
I managed a small smile, “I’d like that, thank you Papa.” Instead of having me stand up, he just picked me up, grabbing my backpack I had tossed earlier, before carrying me to the car. For once, I did not mind being treated like a kid, relishing instead in the comfort from my Papa.
He really is a better dad than I could ever even wish for.