Be Mine

"I think about it every day and night // I can't let go"

Sorry that this update is late!

This chapter's lyric is from "Rollercoaster" by Bleachers.

Read as you see fit here- warnings for some slightly heavy talking/conversations, especially those regarding family issues, LGBTQIA+ related issues, Spiderman issues, what have you. This is the therapy I wish all of these characters could canonically get, but here's a heads up in case any of y'all are sensitive to that :)

Enjoy!

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BRAM POV

I was with Peter. Of all May's reactions, this hadn't been the one I'd been expecting.

"Group therapy?" Harley asked, his confused voice cutting out over Zoom. "Really?"

"I mean, now that I kinda think about it, it doesn't surprise me," Peter replied, shifting his spot and swatting Abby away when she reached forward with more pillows. "She said the big-mama curse word, she sent everyone home, and she sent you back to California for Thursday and Friday via a Stark jet . I knew she was gonna explode in some way. I'm surprised she even let me relocate to the couch this morning."

"Well," I butted in, "she forced the six of us to stop skipping school to see you, and she's making sure you have pillows, food, time to yourself, and a psychologist. It could be worse." It came out a bit like a question.

"What does her discovering your alt-ego even have to do with therapy?" Leah asked. I could see her perfectly shaped eyebrows rising in the little box her screen made up.

"May said that being a superhero was affecting me and those close to me. She said I needed to have someone to talk to."

"You have Tony," Nick says flippantly.

"Look, there's no use denying her, guys," Peter told us, begrudgingly. "I mean, it's impossible to force you, but she will go down with this ship no matter what."
"I vote we get it over with, too," Harley responded.

"Hey! This could be good for us!" Abby protested. I gave her a doubtful look. I wouldn't pretend that I'd gotten over homecoming night, or that I never felt stressed when Peter talked about patrol. Didn't mean I wanted a therapist, though.

I'd talked about it with Simon during lunch that day, and he'd said we were all just being overdramatic about it. He'd seen a therapist regularly a year or two ago, and had only recently started dialing his appointment frequency down. He'd insisted that morning that most everyone was stubborn about it at first, when acting that way only held you back.

I'd shoved him lightly and protested that mature and bossy Simon was my least favorite Simon.

Secretly, though, I hoped he'd been right, because one Mr. Wilson was meeting Si, Peter, Harley, Nick, Leah, Abby, and I at the Compound that Sunday whether we liked it or not.

"Who else is uneasy about the fact that Stark picked this guy out of the haystack?" Harley snickered over the miniscule scratching sound of his pencil and paper homework. The others went back and forth about it for a few minutes while I pulled out airpods from my pocket. I saw that Nick did the same on his end of the line, and we scrolled through our Spotifys together almost like we did at practice when everyone was getting yelled at by the coach.

* * *

When Sunday rolled around, I had my dad give Simon and I a ride to the Compound for what felt like the millionth time this week, thanks to the stretching ETA of our trips to see Peter.