Peter's hands trembled.
Hot droplets of coffee dripped from the brown plastic cup in his hands and onto his fingers, but he hardly noticed the burning sensation they brought.
Peter was still chugging coffee cups like they were water and he was in a desert.
Tears had dried on his cheeks, and blood had dried on his hands.
He had sat in the waiting room for fourteen hours.
Uncle Ben was pronounced dead 12 hours ago. There wasn't much they could do for him.
The bullet had taken out a chunk of his brain. They wouldn't let Peter see him.
The stabilized Aunt May six hours ago. She was pulled back under the knife five hours ago.
Please. Please. Please. Please. Come on, Aunt May. Please. Not you too. Please—His train of thought kept cycling through this same sequence.
Nothing else mattered.
He could not think of anything else, he could not move, it was as if he had become a broken record repeating the same twisted song repeatedly.
Peter would go get coffee. Wait. Pray. Plead. Fight falling asleep. Go get coffee and around the record plays.
He rubbed his eyes as he felt them getting heavy. I'm getting sleepy again…
Peter stood up on autopilot.
The downcast teen quietly walked out of the waiting room and towards the cafeteria. His thoughts drowned out the surrounding noise. The constant crying of the others in the waiting room, the hush whispers and praying. He ignored the shouts and screams of pain and agony when doctors and nurses rolled another patient in on a stretcher.
He had only Aunt May on his mind.
Peter walked towards the coffee machine like stringed marionette—rigid and absentminded as he placed his coffee cup below the nozzle and pressed the button to refill his cup.
However, this time, he couldn't ignore the burning sensation that assaulted his fingers.
"Oh, shit!" He pulled his hand back harshly, bumping into something behind him.
"Shit! Sorry!" He started to apologize but stopped short when his eyes met a pair of familiar baby blues.
Peter froze. Gwen! Thoughts whispered what his voice could not. His mouth felt heavy, like iron had clamped his jaws shut, he silently swallowed an invisible lump caught in the back of his throat.
Flashes erupted like a dam in his mind. His claw hand in Captain Stacey's stomach. His razor teeth digging into Captain Stacy's lieutenant's neck, taking the man's head in with a single gulp.
Stop! Please! Not now. Not now…Peter pleaded with his own thoughts as he let out a shallow breath.
There was a sound of something breaking, it was a white ceramic bowl in Gwen's hands filled with chicken corn soup, Peter must have knocked it out with his hand.
Thankfully, Gwen didn't seem to notice his turmoil, or if she did, she kept her reaction well hidden.
"Pe—Peter!?" Gwen's voice held a strange, haunting cadence when the familiar sound reached his ears. Not as sarcastic or happy as he remembered, not as friendly either.
Her expression was even stranger.
She paled at the sight of him, her eyes wide and almost frightful as if he were a ghost that had come back from the dead to haunt her.
"What—what are you doing here?" Gwen's lips trembled a little, her face a mix of not knowing whether to smile or frown.
Why would she? Forget it… Peter ignored it as a steady sense of relief began to wash over him.
He sighed softly, struggling to keep the cracks out of his voice when he spoke.
"Gwen. I… Uncle Ben.. Aunt May… I—" he didn't know who to begin. Where could he even begin? Where would the right place to start be?
"Gwen!"
Before Peter could even start, more voices called after Gwen.
Mary Jane Watson reach Gwen first, then came Harry Osborne, and behind him was Flash Thompson, followed by Liz Allen and Cindy Moon.
Peter remain frozen as they came closer and huddled around her. Despite that, Gwen didn't look away from him, nor did he look away from her.
But try as he might, he just couldn't control his train of thought. Why? Why are 'they' here?
Gwen must have known how he felt about them, these were his bullies.
His tormentors.
They were one of the few reasons that made him invent and take that goddamn serum.
They gathered around Gwen like she had become the center of their world. They were constant and obnoxious with their worrying and fretting over her as if she were made of glass.
Peter's stomach curled and bubbled, his lips thinned and his eyes narrowed.
Why would she bring them here? Why the hell would she do that now?
Now that Peter was… That he was…
His mouth moved before he could stop himself.
"Why are they here, Gwen? Actually, why are you even here?" He couldn't keep the condescending tone from his voice, and he regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.
The effect was immediate. Their reaction was visceral.
"The fuck did you just say, Parker?" Mary Jane's eyes locked on him like two heat-seeking missiles, her words and tone bit into him deeper than he thought they could.
Flash was the biggest among them and the first to act. He barreled towards Pete, but Liz, knowing her boyfriend acted just as quickly and stood between him and Peter.
Harry shot Peter a glare as he left Gwen's side and moved hold Flash back.
Flash wasn't having any of that. He pushed against them but held back a lot, just short of hurting his girl. "Liz, get out of my way, I'm gonna murder this nerd right now. Harry, I swear to God you better get those grandma hands off me right now!"
Cindy Moon stood in silent support beside Gwen.
And Gwen.
Gwen gave Peter a look. Her expression was tight and unreadable, but her eyes, hers eyes haunted Peter more than anything else in the room.
"Why am I here?" Her voice was low. "My dad is in the ICU, Peter. Why the fuck do you think I'm here?"
Peter grabbed his head. You put him there, Pete. Captain Stacy is there because of you…
Because of me… He chuckled, Peter didn't know where that came from. Did those thoughts just now come from the lizard or him?
Did the lizard even have a voice?
No, this is all me…
Peter didn't attempt to stop himself this time. He spoke whatever twisted strain of thought came to the forefront of his mind.
He could stop himself from saying these terrible things, but didn't. It was like he turned his back on himself.
"Oh, I don't know, I thought cause of Aunt…Actually, I don't know what I was thinking. I just thought maybe you came here to check on me, you know, Peter Parker the nerd, your best friend, who you forgot about. I mean, Jesus, Gwen, a text once in a while would have been nice, but nooo… After becoming little miss popular with your new entourage, what? You're too good for the little people now. You know you can be such a bitch som—" Peter felt his instincts kick in, he felt it coming, saw it too but did nothing to stop it.
Pow!
Harry punched him before he could finish. He grabbed Peter by the collar when he was down and punched him two more times.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Parker?" He glared down at him as if he were the scum of the earth, his fist raised high, no one pulled him back.
"Hahaheha," Peter chuckled a twisted chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea Osborn. What? Mom not around to teach you any manner's daddy's boy? Oh right, Daddy doesn't do that either."
Come on Osborn. You can hit harder than that. Peter smiled.
Harry flinched.
That's it. Come on! Peter could feel that silent tug that was his instincts scream at him, he anticipated the hit before it came, however, the hit did not come from Harry.
Flashed foot plunged itself into Peter's abdomen before he could say anything else.
"Fuck you, Parker. You twisted little shit."
Harry pulled Flash off him, kicking and screaming all the way.
Peter coughed out bile and saliva. As he did so, his eyes caught Gwen's.
Wet eyes watched him with sadness and lingering sympathy.
That hurt more than Flash's kicks. It stung more than Harry's punches.
She looked at him like she hated and pitied him at the same time, like she understood him but couldn't care less about him at the moment.
I'm so sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean to hurt him. I really didn't. It— It wasn't me… He wanted to say it, he really did, yet when he opened his mouth, the words died in his throat and he could only swallow the lump with a pathetic chuckle.
A beat or two passed as Gwen wiped a few of her tears away. "Something really wrong with you"
I know, Gwen, I know… Peter thought as he pushed himself up.
"And I don't think I can help with this one, Pete." Gwen looked away, unable to meet his eyes, then slowly she turned and left.
Cindy pulled her in, she had a hand over Gwen's shoulder as she pulled her away.
So, you'll abandon me too, huh, Gwen? I guess I deserve that much from you… Peter wondered what kind of expression his face was wearing. He wasn't sure himself.
Liz and Harry had to drag Flash away.
Eventually, his eyes met Mary Jane Watson's. Her rage was a quiet rage, it burned with an intensity that would have melted him if this were any other day.
She marched up to him then—Slap!
It stung.
"I thought I knew you Pete, I really thought I did. Show's what I know, huh? Fuck you, Peter Parker," Mary Jane flipped him off as she left.
"You know what? Fuck you, too, Watson! And you too, Flash! Run back to Daddy's money, Harry! I don't need you, Gwen! Never did. I don't need anyone!" he huffed as he finished.
They didn't turn around, or even acknowledge him.
The cafeteria was deathly still for a few moments before the noise resumed.
teen ignored the gazes, the hushed whispers, and walked over to pick up his cup from among the broken ceramic pieces.
The broken pieces and the puddle reflected back at him a twisted image of the boy that was once Peter Parker.
He ignored that, too.
Slowly he walked over to the coffee machine and filled his cup. This time, he made sure to fill it up just right.
He pulled it back and held it for a moment. Something dripped into the coffee cup.
Water? No…
Peter reached up and wiped his tears in silence. Gradually he turned and made his way back into his waiting room.
God help me…
"His grip tightened around the coffee as he sat. Absent-minded, or perhaps in an effort to distract himself, he turned to the TV that was perpetually stuck on the news channel.
Whether it was luck or fate, only the gods would know, because at that exact moment the news segment was featuring the reclusive billionaire Wilson Fisk. The tycoon walked through the drizzling rain as one of his guards opened an umbrella for him.
Peter was about to look away when he spotted something. The man carrying Fisk's umbrella—or rather, his hand. On the back of the guard's left palm was a bullseye tattoo.
Peter's coffee slipped from his fingers.
No way…
***
Harry Osborn curled and uncurled his fingers into a fist. Gwen and the girls walked ahead of him, Flash was ranting beside him.
"Harry, yo, did you hear what I said? You alright?" Flash asked him.
"I don't know…" Harry considered his thoughts as uncurled his fist. "Peter, that bastard's smile, it kinda reminded me of my dad." It was almost as if he wanted to get hit…
"That's cause he's crazy! I keep telling you, man. Something's not right about that nerd, been telling people since 5th grade. Why do you think I pick on him so much—" Flash returned to his rant with renewed vigor.
"Right," Harry agreed half-heartedly, his eyes lingering on Gwen's back as they walked.
Chapter End