The following day the news was full of mixed ideas on Spiderman. The Daily Bugle had really milked the fact that Spiderman let a civilian hurt another under his watch and sadly, the boy he had met had been charged, although his sentence was shorter than what should've been due to his abuse and mental illness, he was placed in juvenile prison, apparently younger than what Peter had assumed him to be.
Peter's little sunshine had quickly gone away, replaced with guilt from being unable to do anything more for the boy and his mother but he crimes should be punished accordingly and although the boy was a victim he had still attempted murder...
"No matter how much I'll try, what I do, I cant just fucking swing away from my problems like you"
Words pounded in his head and Peter was unable to focus for the rest of his day.
Jameson would shout and Peter didn't know if it was directed at him or Spiderman man, his university work was overbearing and no matter how much he wrote a sentence over and over it just didn't make sense.
It wasn't that easy, Peter wanted to say but felt selfish to think like that. The boy's life was horrible, he had no right to complain...
To others, Spiderman just swings through the city and beats villains and his work is done... they don't see the man beneath the mask, they don't think about the blood he had lost in fights or words the public has thrown his way...
Spiderman could just swing away from his problems... and if that's what brought comfort to people, if that's what made others wish they were Spiderman too... then who was he to tell them otherwise?
Giving up the usual routine of sitting in a cafe for hours working, Peter just headed home, finding his head too heavy for his body and legs too sluggish to keep walking.
He collapsed on his bed and remained there, staring at the ceiling, shoes still on despite how much he hated wearing them inside.
He remained there for a long time, nonexistent to the world outside... People saw Spiderman, not the man beneath-
"Except..." Peter lift his phone in his hand, noticing his account, that had once about ten followers, had grown... These people didn't know him, they didn't but Peter felt seen. They enjoyed his music and photos and that was proof in itself that he existed outside the suit...it was the one string that kept him together.
It was dumb, he knew, but it was comforting...
Sitting up, Peter set his phone a top of his desk, pointed towards his bed. He sat on the edge and reached towards his guitar, making sure that this time the camera just cut out his head and left his guitar fully visible.
He clumsily sat in front of the camera and took a deep breath, reassuring himself that people had enjoyed his music...the performance he and Ned had given didn't receive any negative reviews or comments as of yet...
While before Peter didnt share his voice, face or lyrics, worried that the only attention hed get then would be negative... Now Peter sat in front of the camera, black nails flicking the strings of his guitar to check each string was in tune.
Sharing this could give the new followers something to attack him on, they could say he cut ally sounds bad and it was Ned's music that made it all sound so good, they could comment on his sat attire or messy room, say he has no talent...
But Peter would be sharing his thought and someone would at the very least listen to him for once.
Ignoring the fact there was a camera in front of him, that he was being recorded for others to hear, he took a deep breath and began-
"I haven't ate today
and I have eight grades
I need to catch up on"
He strummed lightly, voice light as he continued, thumb smacking lightly on the wood of his acoustic guitar
"My weight decays
and at this rate, i may
never be gone
'It's not great' I say
I've been late, okay
Luck is not upon..."
It wasn't anything new, having no one to talk to. Peter was used to keeping secrets, never able to talk about his troubles with others whenever its to do with his secret identity or day to day life.
He was Spiderman, for goodness sake, he wasn't supposed to be weak and need others help... He wasn't supposed to bother them with his own troubles, he helps them out of their troubles, offers his shoulder for support and hand to help them get up.
"I have eight eyes
But I'm just one guy!
I have eight legs to count
But no one stops on my account
Watch me trip and fall
'Hey! He's got it easy, afterall-
he's got eight legs and eyes
That man has won top prize!'"
Later that day, Peter awkwardly edited the video, trying to make it look nice to look at just in case it wasn't good to listen to.
He just hoped people didnt hate it too much as it was written to let his feelings out...
As the video uploaded, he felt his heart hammering against his chest, the anxiety had a hold of him like he was on a leash, unable to run from the decision he had taken.
As soon as it was posted he turned off the internet and left his phone abandoned on the bed
"This was a bad idea" he pulled on his hairs "This was a really bad idea" he repeated, pacing around his room
"i should delete it" he says, rubbing his hands down his face "I'm deleting it" he decides, marching back towards the small device
Reaching for his phone it began to ring and Peter might have died right then and there from the heart attack he was given. He pushed himself against the far wall of his room, eyes wide on the lit up screen that read Ned.
Breathing heavily he took large gulps of air to calm himself and slow his heart, he creeped closer to the phone and finally picked it up but couldn't say a thing for a moment.
He could hear Ned freaking out on the other line, mumbling to himself rapidly and despite his super hearing, Peter couldn't understand a thing he was saying
"He...llo?" he greeted quietly and awkwardly, flinching when Ned went abruptly quiet before-
"PETER HOLY SHIT" He shouted "Did you see?! Tell me you did!" he shouted but didnt give Peter the chance to reply "DEADPOOL LIKED OUR SONG!!"
"what" Peter paled
"The video we were tagged in! he clicked like on it!! It's getting lots of attention now!" Ned cheered, laughing in disbelief
Peter was going to puke. Regret washing over him like a thunder storm... He knew Deadpool was one to interact with his fan base all the time but never in a million years did he think there was a possibility hed listen to Peter.
"Isn't this great?!" Ned asked "Our idol literally liked our stuff! He visited my account and left a comment too!! Did you get anything?" Ned was ecstatic but Peter couldn't feel the same way...
He had just posted a video of him singing at the worst time he possibly could...
"Peter?"
"I dont have my internet on" his voice was distant as he slid down to the floor
"Oh! that explains why you didnt answer my video call" Ned laughed before stopping "oh you uploaded?" he asked
"I have to delete that video!" Peter shouted and instantly hung up, turning on the wi-fi as quickly as possible and opening the app to delete his worst mistake in his life.
"Although I'm sure youre lying about having eight legs your voice is really nice to listen to!"
Peter froze, eyes setting on the familiar profile of Deadpool in his comments...
(( I usually think of a melody for every song used in the fic (I have more planned) and this is one of the ones I recorded for reference :D so it's nice to finally add it))
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Strumming Heart Strings - (Spideypool Band AU)
Fanfictionrock band AU Will give a proper name eventually
