Chapter Text
It all passes by him like a blurry movie.
When he gets the call, it starts. No.
No.
No.
Please.
Morita sits next to him. He’s trying to be a friend now, not the principal.
The words are silent and all too loud at the same time.
The hole in peter’s stomach drops further.
What is he supposed to do now?
The precinct they’ve brought him to is bustling quietly. Officer call-me-rob repeats his question.
“Do you have any other family?”
His head is pounding. His heart, against his rib cage.
Yes, but no.
He can’t call Mr. stark.
He can’t be weak.
So he shrugs his shoulders.
Whispers, “she’s all I have.”
She’s all I had.
They tell him what’s happened. They tell him it was an honest mistake, a hit and run that could’ve happened to anyone. But it didn’t happen to anyone, it happened to May.
“Where… where is she?” He whispers hoarsely. His voice is barely audible, even to himself.
Call-me-Rob places a hand on Peter's shoulder. “She’s in a better place.”
Fuck.
He hates when people say that. They said that about his rat and his parents and uncle Ben, now they say it about May.
Bullshit.
“No.” He whispers. “She’s not.”
She was happy. They were happy.
Call-me-Rob stands up to discuss May and the kid she left behind with a woman in a pantsuit.
Kid.
That’s what they call him, and to be honest, it’s not entirely untrue.
He squeezes his eyes shut and wishes that he could just go home. Take may, drive home.
Pantsuit pulls a chair up to him.
“Peter Parker.”
Her voice his a calm whisper, a cool breeze in his ear.
He doesn’t open his eyes.
“I’m Melissa. Can you tell me if you have any other family that can come pick you up, get you back on your feet?”
Is there anyone that can come scrape your sorry ass off the floor?
“Any emergency contacts, teachers, supervisors?”
Not Mr. stark.
Peter can’t be a burden.
Call-me-Rob shows him a paper. It has the midtown symbol on it. From his school.
“Who is Anthony E. S.?”
“Please don’t call him?” It comes out weak and pathetic. A plea for them not to make this worse and embarrass him in front of his boss.
“Why do you say that, Peter?” Pantsuit - Melissa - says softly. He understands how she’s a social worker now. She’s very good at intoning calmness into her voice.
“He thinks I’m a kid.”
Call-me-Rob laughs. “Kid, you are a kid.”
Peter scowls.
“Rob.” Melissa’s voice is warning.
“Where is he?”
Peter knows that voice.
Shit.