Subway Boy ( Peter Parker / Spider-Man x Reader ) ((Tom Holland))

Cat Scars

       YOUR P.O.V

       "Peter?" I ask my voice quivering as I sat on my inflatable mattress.

      "Yeah?" He replies as he wiped his tears on his sleeve.

      "Why would you care if I died anyways?"

      Silence

      He murmurs something I didn't quite hear, so I decide we are playing a game.

      "Peter?" I ask again.

      He looks at me with those brown eyes I love to get lost in.

      "What is your favorite music?" I ask, poking his shoulder as I rest my chin on his shoulder.

      "Pop." He says as he avoids eyecontact.

      "Pete?" I say with a small smile forming on my face.

       "What?" He says through gritted teeth.

      "If you could eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?" I say as I floof his hair.

      "I don't know."

       And so I kept bugging him with questions, and he kept providing answers. Everything was nice, except when he asked something very personal.

        "What was your middle school like?" He says. He has no idea how horrible it was there, how scars liter my wrists and legs, how I still give myself scars to remind myself how horrible I am.

       I freeze for a moment before opening my mouth and closing it again.

      "Horrible." I say.

       "I know, right?!" He says. I get hopeful that someone understands me, but then he say, "It goes elementary to hard core stuff real fast!"

      I nod and put a fake smile on my face, pretending that's what I was talking about.

       I tugged down my sleeves more protectively. I put those scars there to remind me of how messed up I am. I put them there for a reason.

       "Y/N? Hellooo?" Peter says.

       I give him my attention and he continues asking questions. One thought lingered in my head. I'm doing it again tonight.

      -Time skip brought by a quackson-

      I did it. I hid away the blade and covered up any trace that I refreshed my scars. I wore extra long sleeves in case the ones I usually wore slipped down a bit.

      "Y/N, why is there blood in the sink?" Peter asks with a worried face.

      "Oh, I had an umm..nose bleed." I say and he believes it.

      I changed into long pants, a long sweatshirt, and a long jacket. Nothing was getting exposed today.

      We ran out to the bus and quickly jumped onto the steps and sat next to each other. Sometimes we take the subway, sometimes we take the bus.

      "Y/N?" Peter asked with a small voice.

      I look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

      "Uh...uhm..n-nevermind." He said.

      I hummed under my breath "Burn" from Hamilton until we got to the school. We raced off and into the school, quickly grabbing stuff from our lockers and going to class.

      I had to remind myself not to raise my hand in class just in case it will slip down my wrists.

      The teacher was doing role call, and of flipping course we had to raise our hands to signify we were there.

      "Y/N?" She said.

      I raised my hand halfway and said "Here" quietly.

      "Ms. Y/N, please raise your hand all the way." She said as she adjusted her glasses.

      Everyone was staring at me. Clenching my jaw, I raised my hand fully and to my horror my sweatshirt slipped down a centimeter, exposing half of one of the new, fresh red scars.

      I yanked my hand down before anyone could gasp or notice.

      I turned to Peter slowly, and thank Thor he was fiddling with a pencil.

       -tume skimp-

       I am an IDIOT. I completely forgot today was gym. Short sleeves and short shorts. Great. We weren't even allowed to wear jackets in Gym.

      I changed quickly and hid my arms behind my back, holding my sore wrists.

      "All right, cripples. Today you are going to be doing partner work. Boy and girl partners. And go." The gym teacher said.

      Before I could even look around, Peter was in front of me.

       "Let's start with arm stretches."

      This little shitaki mushroom knew what he was doing.

      In an attempt to hide the scars, I flipped my arms. Peter immediately fixed them. And saw the new scars.

      He didn't gasp or widen his eyes, he just stared into my eyes with pain.

      "What happened?" He mouthed.

      "I have an um...a ..um..cat! I have a cat." I say and mentally face palm, remembering we live together.

      He held my arms and pulled me up, running his fingers over my cuts. I winced in pain and he immediately stopped.

      "We don't own cats and we are going home." He said with dark eyes. We were leaving school early again today.

      We grabbed our stuff and left, Peter holding onto my arm. We got inside and he immediately looked into the trashcan in his bathroom and found the razor with dried blood. He found my almost empty anti scar cream. I was sitting on the couch, my face in my hands.

        Peter came over and asked one question.

      "Why?"