The Hero Deep Inside

Sniffles (pt. 1)

It started with the sniffles.

"You alright, babe?" May asked, as rubbed my nose over the sleeve of my hoodie. I turned away from the kitchen sink and towards her. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of what I was doing.

"Ah, Peter," May groaned. "That's disgusting."

My sleeve lowered slowly. "Sorry," I mumbled.

May squeezed my shoulder as she walked past me. "You sound a little stuffy,"

I shook my head quickly, "I can't get sick,"

May opened the cupboard and selected a glass. "Babe, everyone gets sick,"

I shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. "I'm not exactly like everyone,"

May pursed her lips. "Oh,"

I dragged a bowl towards me, the spoon inside clanging softly. I heard May come up behind me and felt a hand on my forehead.

"I'm fine, May,"

"You're a little warm, babe,"

I shook her hand off. "Nah," I mumbled.

"Oh, Peter," May wrapped her arms around me and squeezed my shoulders into a hug. "Take care of yourself. Okay?"

I leaned my head to the side, resting it in the crook of her arms and humming in consent.

****

"You okay, Peter?"

I frowned at my best friend. "Yeah....why do you ask?"

"You just--" Ned raised an eyebrow, "You just don't look that great,"

I blinked my eyes closed, and rubbed at the bridge of my nose with the knuckle of my thumb. I exhaled slowly. "Mmm, I'm okay. I just...."

My head was pounding now, noises ringing in my ears.

Why was everything so loud?

I wasn't getting sick.

I couldn't get sick.

Spiderman couldn't get sick.

Could I?

The bell rang before Ned could reply. I had always thought the bell was a little on the loud side. But today--

The noise slammed into me like a solid brick wall. I staggered, one arm outstretched to catch something--anything--to keep me upright as all my senses whited out.

For a long, painful, nearly unbearable second, there was nothing.

Nothing.

Then there was Ned's voice.

"Hey, Peter? Peter! Peter!"

He wasn't yelling--thank goodness, he wasn't yelling. He was whispering fiercely somewhere off to my left.

My left.

I focused, trying--struggling--to regain my senses. I concentrated on Ned's voice.

He was bringing me back.
I could hear his voice now: clear and quiet.

Then I could see his face, inches away from mine.

Then I could feel his arm on my shoulder and I was back. I was back.

My eyes focused on Ned's face. The expression his features wore was awful--scared and confused all at once. I swallowed and managed a weak. "Heeey,"

"What was that, Peter?"

I didn't answer right away, despite the urgency in my best friend's voice. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I straightened instead, staring at the lines of lockers. I swayed a little and reached out for the red metal grate of my locker door. Ned tightened his grip on my arm.

"Bro, talk to me," Ned said and my attention turned back to him. To that same worried expression.

"I just--um, I just felt a little dizzy."

Ned's eyebrows slowly migrated higher on his forehead. "Dizzy?"

"Yeah," I breathed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat on my brow, of the feverish feeling behind my eyes. "That's all,"

"I think--"

But I didn't want to hear what he thought.

I wasn't sick.

And I definitely wasn't going home.

Besides, I had patrol today. I wasn't going to miss that.

Not for the world.

Ever since I had become Spider-man, being a hero had become my life. My everything--that is other than May.

There was something just so real about flying through the air. The wind on your face, the streets and bustle of city life below me and nothing above me but blue sky.

There was something about swinging through the streets, flipping through the air that made me feel so alive.

And the hero business. Nothing compared to that. Nothing.

Plus, I mean, the churros. Things didn't get much better.

And then this.

When I had first gotten bitten by the spider, I was a invincible. Nothing could hurt me, nothing could beat me, nothing could knock me down.

Boy, had I learned.

But I wasn't about to admit it. Not to Ned, not to anybody. How was I supposed to become an Avenger like that? Avengers didn't get knocked down.

"Ned," I interrupted him, "we gotta get to class. Now!"

Ned opened his mouth to call out my excuse but I pointed at the clock on the wall and raised my eyebrows.

Ned hated being late.

"Fine, but if you're feeling--"

"I'll be fine," I grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him down the hallway, all the while doing everything in my power to stay on my two feet.

****

We'll just say it wasn't my best history class ever.

Relief flooded me when I reached my desk: my legs were 30 seconds from giving out from beneath me. My condition had worsened from the hallway to the classroom. It didn't take a genius to know that.

I nearly collapsed into my chair and immediately put my head on the desk, cushioned by the crooks of my elbows. Luckily my desk was towards the back of the classroom. Maybe no one would notice if I just....rested....

"Tired?" A voice asked to my--where was it coming from?

My senses were blurring again and I couldn't tell who had asked the question or where they were or even if someone had asked a question at all. I tried to lift my head to look around, but everything was so loud and the darkness that was beckoning me at the corners of my vision were quiet and gentle and I was so tired. So tired....

"Hey, loser,"

Silence.

Darkness.

"Loser?"

Light. Somewhere. Far away.

Too far away.

I couldn't reach it, couldn't reach the voice--the light.

And I was falling.