Notes at the end. (Long but important)
TW: Transphobia, blood, violence, swearing, mentions of death, death
If you find anything else, lemme know.
Enjoy :D
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Peter was quite frankly, screwed.
Everything he thought he knew shattered into an abyss of confusion. Turns out trusting a man he sorta just met, wasn't exactly the smartest thing.
Goddamn it, he should've listened to Elsa.
It felt like only yesterday he was sitting comfortably on the couch watching the highest grossing film of 2015 with his boyfriend and pseudo family, and now he's running for his life as blood drips from his open wound.
He should probably explain, but that would be too much energy and time which he doesn't possess. So why don't i summarise with three bullet points.
- New York
- Rekindled relationships
- Transphobia
If you're still confused, no you're not.
Peter is heaving as he clutches his side, he really shouldn't be exercising, especially after 10 hours in the god forsaken titty tube, but desperate times come to desperate measures.
"GET BACK HERE" echoes from behind him, his legs giving way behind a dumpster.
There's a throbbing behind his eyes, an ache in his chest and regret clawing at his throat.
Spiderman my ass, he feels like a little kid again. Embarrassment flushes his cheeks as though his mum's found him crying in the bathroom again, found the blood soaked through his jeans.
Tears pool. He's not her.
A part of him is remorseful for the girl, defenceless and confused, always uncomfortable in dresses with no words to express why, sorry for the bullying she put up with.
Sorry that he hates her as much as he does. Truthfully he knows she did nothing wrong, knows that he can't blame her for everything, not even this, but it still hurts to hear her name.
It's been months since he got his name legally changed, been months since he was let free, since he felt like himself. And yet here he is, bleeding out in a back alley in New York, apologising to the little girl he let down.
He really tried. He got happy, trying to make up for the years she was in pain. He got a boyfriend who he loves with his whole heart, for the little girl who had a crush on the cute guy in the library. He got the life she would've wanted, lived the life she was scared of, but it's not enough.
It sounds selfish, because truly he's done all he needed to. And sure there's a million more ways he could make it up to the little girl, more lives to save because he'll never save enough. More time with his boyfriend. A year and a half more than he ever thought possible and yet he longs for more. And maybe he's worried for the family he's accumulated, worried how they'll take it. But, with a sigh and a smile, he's ready.
Footsteps echoe towards him, a crumpled heap of black cargo trousers and a binder-covering vest. Light grey soaked red, splotches dancing round the fabric, expanding and spreading.
It's his time.
He looks up, the face of his once father staring down at him.
"Leaving you was probably the best decision I could've made, but Jesus your mother was shit at raising you" he scoffs, spitting and the boy. He scowls beneath his scruffy beard.
"Hey, at least i wasn't raised by a fucking coward like you" there's a thud as the boy is kicked in the stomach.
He smiles. Blood drops from his mouth. He spits, aiming for his so-called father's boots.
