lacuna || Peter Parker (Spider-Man: Homecoming)

08

"No, Ned! I can't."

Peter and Ned were walking down the school hallway, grey lockers barricading the walls on either side of them.

"Really?" Ned said, in awe. "That's so cool – I mean, weird. Bad. Yeah, that's so bad." He corrected himself quickly, after a glare from Peter.

"Oh no, Flash is coming." Ned warned, and Peter unconsciously grabbed onto Ned's arm nervously. Peter looked at his feet, feeling his hands shaking slightly.

"Aye, Penis Parker!" Peter heard the obnoxious voice call down the hall and a few people sniggered.

"Go away, Flash." Ned said angrily, and Peter felt a rush of gratitude toward his friend. At least someone cared.

"Is it true?" Flash asked, much nearer now. Peter's heart dropped.

Peter let go of Ned's arm, and took a defensive step forward. "Yes." He felt Ned's hand on his chest, holding him back. From what, he wasn't sure.

He heard a satisfied 'ooooh!' from Flash and a few whoops and claps from his cronies that would be gathered around him. Peter closed his eyes, and took a deep steadying breath.

"Aw, don't cry, baby Parker!" Flash whined, pouting his lip mockingly.

"C'mon Peter, let's go." Ned piped in, while Flash's friends laughed and made fake crying noises.

Peter let Ned lead him away, rather reluctantly, much to the delight of his enemy. He could hear Ned swearing under his breath, and felt bad for his friend.

"I'm sorry, Ned. I . . . I'm-." Peter began, breathing heavily.

"Why are you sorry? I'm sorry. Being blind isn't cool." Ned apologised. "Here, we're at your locker."

"Thanks, Ned." Peter murmured.

He lifted his quivering hands to the blur of grey in front of him, his fingers falling upon the cold metal of the lock. Thankfully,he wasn't fully blind, otherwise he really would be crying. Maybe. Probably not - but that's not the point. The point is that, once again, Flash has something to tease Peter about, along with everything else he already has. What's more, is that - with his faulty sight, he was beginning to receive more and more anxiety attacks. He thought they had gone after the spider bite, but they had come back, now worse than ever. He just longed to be back out on the streets, flying from building to building freely, the air in his hair and breath in his lungs fresh. If only . . .

"Peter . . . ? Hullo?" Ned was saying, his voice a mix of annoyance and worry and boredom.

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't - I was just . . . not listening. I wasn't listening, what did you say?" Peter stuttered, after at least six attempts at opening his lock.

There was that, too. For the past couple of weeks, he would find himself drifting off. Not concentrating - or more; not ABLE to concentrate. He could only apprehend about twenty minutes of their classes, before his brain slowly shut down. A few times, much to his embarrassment and Flash's glee, he would be woken with a start by his teacher, asking him a question, which usually followed with a 'do you need to see the nurse?'. Peter's most hated sentence. He hated attention.

Before he knew it, he found himself outside arithmetic. Know idea what he had done between opening his lock, and ending up in the doorway - he presumed the usual, because of the books piled up in his arms. He strained his memory, but it was like nothing had happened. That he had just magically transported here, with all his stuff. Damn, third time this week. And it was Monday . . . wasn't it?

No, it was Tuesday. Wow, Monday went very fast, especially for a Monday.

Arithmetic passed by in a blur, Peter barely remembered any of it. Only the part where the teacher asked him to read from the chalkboard and he had a - mild - panic attack because he couldn't. He remembered that. He remembered Flash's triumphant face.