Wade tries not to cry. He hardly ever cries. He doesn't like crying. But sometimes there's nothing he can do, and he's left completely powerless against the pain. This is one of those days.
But it's okay, no one can see. No one can ever see. He will kill everyone before anyone can see.
"Wade?"
It's the boy again. Why can't he just leave him be? Raindrops begin to fall, mixing with the salt on his face and soaking into the dirt beneath his knees. He'll get cold soon. He doesn't care.
"Wade." There it is again, without the uncertaincy.
He clenches his jaw firmly, hitting a hand against the stone. "What?" His voice is raw and his eyes sting, it's okay, it's okay.
Wade sees from the corner of his eyes the boy kneeling next to him.
Of course, he thinks, sympathy. His stomach turns in disdain. He knows all the signs. They act like they care, patting you on the back, wiping their fingers on your cheeks and telling you everything will work itself out. Then they leave. They all leave eventually.
"I wanted to see of you were okay." That was the Parker boy's weakness. He cared too much. For everyone. For anyone. It would get him killed. Wade would blame himself. Peter wouldn't be there to tell him otherwise.
"I'm fine. I'm always fine." The lie is so weak, so unbelievable even to him, that Wade could cut though it like paper. Peter knows this and bends down, going to kneel on one knee. The dark grey hood draped over his face makes him look years older, adding artificial shadows under his eyes and a dull sunkenness to his cheeks.
"You know you can't always be strong."
That's what does it. To know that someone, someone in the universe can see past the his pain, ugliness, and still bother to care. So he sobs, not bothering to hide it.
After all, what's the point? The boy's enhanced hearing will pick it up anyways. Curse the spider that bit him. Wade collapses onto his back, letting the rain make trails across the torn skin on his face as he closes his eyes.
"You know," His voice is distorted, and he has to clear his throat before continuing. "you know, this is the day she died."
Peter sinks down next to him, and Wade knows what he's asking–who? Who could possibly make an animal cry?
"My mom." That's who. "You know I can't remember how many years it's been? I can't even remember the day she died." He swallows. "And you know what's worse? I can't even remember what she looks like."
He feels Peter's hand slide into his, and Wade squeezes it as tight as he can. "Her face is just a blur. If I move further away, then I can make it out a little. But when I try to focus...it's gone again." Rain begins soaking into his three-piece suit, seeping up through the fabric and becoming ice against his skin. He feels Peter's hand tremble ever so slightly against his, and Wade realizes that they should probably leave. He's going to feel terrible later when Peter gets sick.
"Come on," He holds his other hand out. Peter takes it, and they stand together. "you can crash at my place. We'll order takeout."
He doesn't let go.
He'll never let go.
