Just Kids | Peter Parker

16 | First Touch

Y/N

_

I felt unbalanced.

After my lashing out incident back at the tower, I didn't know if going back to the school was a good idea. I had to pick up Peter, anyways, so it didn't really matter if it was good or not.

I just knew it was scary.

Happy dropped me off in the front of the gate, and I started to walk inside. There were a few students loitering around the steps, deep into their conversations. Peter said he'd meet me at the top, but I didn't see him yet. I guess I just had to wait.

Tugging lightly at the bottom of my sleeve, I made sure my metal arm was covered. It didn't feel so bad anymore, since I knew there was a funny little snowflake painted on top.

As I walked slowly up the steps, I heard the sounds of whispering pick up. Glancing at the students around me, I noticed people were staring at me. In fact, all of them were staring at me. I decided to ignore it, but I accidentally caught someone's sentence loud and clear.

"The freak is back."

They couldn't be talking about me, right? I'm sure they were talking about something else, and I just misinterpreted it. Continuing to walk, I kept my head facing the ground, but I couldn't stop listening now.

"Why did she come back?"

"Did you see what she did to Flash?"

"Everyone saw it."

"It's like she's possessed."

Possessed.

Freak.

I couldn't deny it now, it was obvious they were talking about me. I made a mistake, and now it was overwhelming me as I walked up the steps. I couldn't stay here any longer, because I was afraid of what else I might hear.

Thanks to Stark's experiment, I almost lost myself again today, and I didn't want to lash out again.

Not in front of these people.

Turning around, I began to run back down the stairs, not caring at the laughs some people were throwing my way.

I get it. I'm a laughing stock. I'm crazy, I'm brainwashed.

I'm never [y/n].

Crossing the street, I kept running and running and running until I reached an empty alleyway. There were a few trash cans around, which was good. I could hide behind them and not be seen for a while.

Ducking down, I curled myself up into a ball and pressed my forehead into my knees.

Focus tunnel, Tony said, find your focus tunnel.

I crunched my eyes together, rocking back and forth. I needed to think about something other than what happened on the steps.

1943, I began to mouth, 1943.

Summer, 1943, where everything was normal. Where Steve, Bucky, and I were still kids. Where we didn't worry about a war. Where we didn't worry about what everyone else thought.

1943, 1943, 1943....

"[y/n]?"

I jolted up, my tunnel chant ceasing. Peter was standing in front of me, staring down into my eyes with sadness. I didn't hear him walk in front of me.

"Oh," I mumbled, trying to hide my face, "hey."

He tilted his head, "I saw you run off."

I didn't say anything, but just grunted in agreement. I wanted to be alone. It was always better that way, and no one got hurt.

"Are you okay?" he urged.

"I'm fine."

"You're in an alleyway, hiding behind a trash can."

I snapped my head up, a frown on my face, "please just go away."

He ignored me, crossing his arms against his chest. He squinted his eyes, as if he wasn't sure about something, but then I saw confirmation glaze across his eyes.

"Are you crying?" he said softly, "[y/n]?"

"Peter, just leave me alone."

"I'm not going to do that."

"Please," I pleaded, "I don't want you to see me cry."

He shook his head, squatting down to match my eye-level. His hair was tucked underneath the hood of his sweater, but a few curls were hanging over his eyes.

"Crying isn't a bad thing," he said, "crying just means you know how to be human."

"I forgot what it was like to be human a while ago," I frowned, my voice starting to break, "to everyone else, I'm everything but that."

"You're human to me."

"But you aren't everyone."

"But I'm someone," he smiled, "and I'm also your friend."

I didn't want him to be my friend. Hearing him say that didn't sit right with me. After all he had done to try to make me feel welcome, safe, and adjusted, the word friend wasn't enough. I just wanted to call him Peter. Somehow Peter was more important than friend.

"Talk to me," he said, "I'm here to listen."

A part of me didn't want to make him feel even more like a burden, but now I understood that was wrong. I wasn't a burden to him. He genuinely cared for my feelings, and that made me feel something strange. A good kind of strange.

"Am I a freak to you?" I blurted out, wiping off a stray tear.

Peter looked taken aback, "of course not."

"Then what am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I heard people calling me possessed, crazy, and psycho," I explained, "it's okay if you think those things, I'm used to it."

He shook his head, "I think a lot of things of you, but none of those were it."

"What do you think, then?"

"I think you're amazing," he grinned, "I think you're super cool, and I think you're super smart."

Those things felt real coming from him. Even though I didn't necessarily believe them myself, he made them seem true. True about me.

"I also think you're really pretty," he said, the tip of his nose turning pink.

Pretty?

No one's ever called me pretty before, not even Steve and Buck.

"But being pretty doesn't mean anything," I sighed, "not to the rest of the world."

"The rest of the world doesn't have to think you're pretty," Peter assured, "but I do."

Suddenly I felt his presence over me, his skin brushing against mine as his arms wrapped around me tightly. He pulled me into a hug, squeezing me against his chest.

And for the first time, I didn't flinch.

I didn't fight back.

I let him touch me.

And I also didn't feel alone anymore.

_

gosh i love them but for the sake of the story there has to be a plot