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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Gimme Love, 3/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia

2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the

back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed

issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I

whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be

looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the

same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee

being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew

she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not. Tags: rpdr fanfiction // s10 // as5 // miz cracker // jujubee // blair st clair // blair x cracker // denali foxx // rose // fluff // coming of age // hurt/comfort // lesbian au // highschool au // grinder // tw grief // tw homophobia [Cover image here] AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia [read more] 2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me

closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as

friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #denali foxx #rosé #fluff #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw grief #tw homophobia

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starryknight09 · 5 years

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Whatever It Takes Ch. 4/?

Summary: Peter’s struggling to cope after the loss of Mr. Stark. Everyone keeps telling him it’ll get better and that he needs to move on, but Peter doesn’t want to. He can’t envision a life without his mentor. So when an idea comes to him, he doesn’t hesitate, no matter how crazy it is. He’s going to get Mr. Stark back.

“What exactly are we going to do?” Ned asked.

“Whatever it takes.” Peter answered.

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“What do you want me to make for dinner?” May asked from the kitchen.

“I’m not hungry.” Peter answered in a monotone as he sat on the couch staring blankly at the television. It was on but he didn’t have the attention span or the energy to watch it. He had no idea what was even playing.

“You need to eat something.” May argued. “I know you didn’t eat lunch and all you ate for breakfast was that granola bar I had to force down your throat.”

“I’m not hungry.” He said again, more forcefully.

May sighed heavily and walked back into the living room. He didn’t turn away from the TV.

“Honey you need to eat.”

Peter kept staring straight ahead.

“Tony wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.” May said. Why was everyone telling him that lately?

“It doesn’t matter what he’d want. He’s dead.” He said, voice emotionless. The words should’ve hurt to say but they didn’t. He was too numb. Everything felt completely numb.

“Honey.” May said sadly and sat down next to him. “Look at me please.”

Peter sighed but did as she asked and turned to look at her.

“I know you’re hurting but you still have to take care of yourself.” May said with sad eyes. “You need to eat.”

She cupped his cheek. “You’ve been losing weight baby.”

He knew that. He hadn’t weighed himself but he’d noticed his clothes had started fitting looser.

“I haven’t been hungry.” He argued weakly.

“I know honey and that’s what grief does, but you still have to eat. If not for yourself, then for me? Ok? Can you try?”

He nodded. He hated making her worry about him.

“Thank you.” May smiled. “Come here.”

She pulled him into a hug and he returned it without hesitation.

“I just miss him.” He whispered the confession into her hair.

“I know.” May whispered back.

She kissed the side of his cheek and said knowingly, “But it’ll get better. You know it will.”

He knew they were both thinking about Ben. About how hard it’d been after his death too. How neither of them had wanted to eat. How pretty much every day had been a struggle. How it had hurt so much it’d felt like slowly burning alive. But somehow they’d survived it. It had gotten better. Peter knew this hurt had to eventually get better too, but he couldn’t make himself believe it.

“Ok.” May said as she let go of him and sat back. “How about I make spaghetti for dinner? You like spaghetti.”

She looked so earnest, so hopeful he’d eat. He couldn’t disappoint her.

“Actually, can we order Thai?” He asked hesitantly. “It sounds…kind of good.”

May beamed. “Absolutely. Thai it is. You want your usual?”

He nodded. He figured he could choke down some Pad See Ew if it’d make her feel better.

She got up to grab her phone from the kitchen counter and he called softly after her, “Thanks May.”

“No problem sweetie.” She said back.

He and May had started eating Thai after Ben had died. It’d been one of the only foods his uncle hated, so they’d never really eaten it. It’d been safe from triggering memories. He was pretty sure it was all they’d been able to stomach for weeks after his death. And then, over time, it’d become his and May’s thing. Eating Thai. He’d almost forgotten that’s how it had started. It was the same reason he and May never ate fried chicken anymore. Because it’d been Ben’s favorite. They never talked about. They just never ate it again. He wondered if there were any foods he wouldn’t be able to eat now because they’d remind him too much of Tony. As soon as he thought it, the answer immediately came to mind. Shawarma.

He didn’t know how people reasonably expected him to move on when reminders of what he’d lost kept popping up everywhere. He ached constantly with a phantom pain, like he’d had a limb cut off and forgot he’d lost it until he went to use it again and it was gone.

Something funny would happen at school that he knew Mr. Stark would enjoy and he’d think he needed to tell him about it, but then he’d remember he couldn’t. He’d never get a chance to tell the man funny stories or hear him laugh again.

After school, he’d walk down the steps and reflexively look for Happy’s car because for a split second he’d forget there’d never be any more workshop evenings or weekends hanging out with Mr. Stark.

He’d pull out his phone on the subway on the way to school in the morning and click on Tony’s name, ready to send him a morning message like he always did, before he’d remember. No matter how many messages he sent Mr. Stark, he’d never get a reply. So he’d put his phone away and spend the rest of the ride struggling to hold back tears.

He wondered if Tony had gone through something similar when he’d been gone, but he didn’t have the heart to ask anyone about it. Knowing wouldn’t help anyway, it’d probably only make it hurt worse.

Months passed.

It didn’t get better.

He barely ate except for when someone forced him to. Food turned to ash in his mouth. Nothing tasted good. His appetite remained non-existent. He spent more days than not dizzy and not quite with it. He knew he was still losing weight. His clothes had gone from a little loose to borderline falling off of him. He knew he couldn’t keep going on like this. But he also didn’t care.

The suffocating loss and memories hounded him all day and the nightmares and insomnia haunted him all night. He went through the motions at school, somehow keeping his grades up amidst his fog. It was probably the main reason no one had staged an actual intervention yet. They probably figured if he could still do well in school, he must not be as bad as he seemed. He was falling apart, but somehow still keeping it together.

He spent more and more time out as Spiderman. He figured if he wasn’t going to sleep, like he hadn’t been able to tonight, he might as well do something useful. He liked to think it’s what Mr. Stark would’ve wanted. For him to keep fighting the fight. To keep helping people. When the man couldn’t be there to do it himself. Or maybe that was just Peter’s wishful thinking to alleviate the guilt he felt whenever he donned the suit Mr. Stark had made for him.

“Peter it is now three hours past the curfew Mr. Stark set for you.” Karen reminded him cheerfully, interrupting his morose thoughts as he sat on the roof ledge of one of the taller buildings in Midtown. He’d been patrolling all over the city lately instead of exclusively in Queens because he’d been going out as Spiderman more and wanted to help as many people as possible. It wasn’t at all because he felt an odd magnetic pull toward Mr. Stark’s old Tower.

“I know Karen.” Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it matters. There’s no one you can tattletale to anymore.”

Silence in response.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“I recommend you return home to sleep. Due to your fatigue, your reaction times have been 0.2 seconds slower tonight than usual. I have noted a gradual progressive increase in this delay over the past week.” Karen told him.

Sounded about right. He wasn’t surprised. It’d been a long night. A long week really. He’d barely been sleeping and it was currently three in the morning.

When he didn’t respond, Karen added, “I am concerned for your wellbeing Peter.”

“Yeah well join the club.” He muttered. It’s all he heard from everyone lately. They were worried. They wanted to talk. They wanted to help. And now apparently even the AI in his suit was in on it.

“Your safety is my primary objective.” Karen continued. “It has not escaped my notice that lately your behavior has become increasingly erratic and you have been taking more unacceptable risks.”

Peter snorted.

“I’m fine Karen.” He lied.

She didn’t give him any sort of rebuttal even though she had to know he was lying. He didn’t know if that was better or worse.

He sighed and conceded, “All right. Fine. I’m going home. Happy?”

“Very.” Karen said as he stood.

Could AI’s be ‘very’ happy? Could they even be happy at all? Karen sure seemed like she had emotions, but it was probably all just a trick of programming. Mr. Stark’s genius incarnated.

He took a breath and jumped. He webbed from building to building mindlessly. Because of the height of the buildings in Midtown, he was so high up it almost felt like flying. He should like it. He should feel something. But he didn’t. Why couldn’t he feel anything? He just wanted to feel something. Anything besides this accursed numbness.

He released his web but instead of shooting off the next one to attach to the subsequent building, he held off. And let himself fall.

“Peter is there something wrong with your webshooter?” Karen asked after only a second of freefall.

He didn’t respond. He closed his eyes as his body sliced soundlessly through the air. He still felt nothing. No thrill of excitement or enjoyment. Only the familiar all encompassing numbness.

The ground grew closer. It happened slowly but fast at the same time.

“Peter.” Karen warned.

Still nothing. No jolt of fear.

His viewscreen started flashing warnings. About terminal velocity and how fatal collision was imminent.

“Peter you must deploy your webshooter.” Karen ordered, practically yelling. He didn’t even know she could do that.

He supposed he should. He straightened his arm out in front of him. And hesitated. He didn’t actually have to. He could just…not.

He could be done. Just give up. He could see Mr. Stark again.

But May would be sad. And if he did see Mr. Stark, how could he ever explain himself? Heroes didn’t kill themselves. Unless they needed to do it in order to save the world. And then they called it sacrifice.

“Peter!” Karen yelled in warning.

He gasped. He didn’t actually want to die. He didn’t. He fumbled jerkily with his webshooter and managed to shoot it in time to catch onto a nearby building. As it tightened, the force yanked his shoulder painfully.

He let out a small cry. But the web held and he swung through the trough of the arc. As he started swinging back up again, he realized how dangerously close he was to the ground. There weren’t a lot of options for where to attach another web. He shot one out frantically at a nearby building but in the next second he saw the trajectory would bring him through an alley to smash straight into a brick wall at the end of it.

There was only one thing he could do.

He was moving too fast and only a few feet off the ground as he released his web. He landed on the asphalt and rolled almost the entire distance of the alleyway before he slammed into a dumpster near the end and came to an abrupt stop.

Ouch. He groaned. Everything hurt. But he wasn’t dead. His chest heaved in huge gulps of air. He turned his head and saw he’d left a huge dent in the dumpster, nearly crushing it in half. Sorry New York waste management.

He stayed on his back, gasping, trying to catch his breath like a fish out of water as he stared up at the black night sky. Karen remained conspicuously silent. She was probably mad at him. Her only communication with him was an injury report that flashed across the screen. He glanced at it briefly and dismissed it. Nothing life threatening. His momentary lapse wasn’t going to end up killing him after all.

Adrenaline fled his body, leaving him shaky, as the reality of what had almost just happened hit him. He’d almost died. He’d really almost just killed himself. Holy shit. His entire body started vibrating with fine tremors as a delayed fear response washed over him.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up past his lips. He’d almost just died, but he finally felt something for the first time in forever. Even if that something was terror. Once the laughter started, he couldn’t seem to get it to stop. Was this what a mental breakdown felt like?

As he giggled nonsensically at the sky, he realized some part of him was still waiting for Mr. Stark’s fear filled angry phone call. Waiting for the man to tell him he was on his way because he’d gotten hurt. Waiting for him to tell him off because he’d done something stupid. Again. But Mr. Stark wasn’t coming. Because Mr. Stark was gone.

And it’d been almost six months now since Mr. Stark’s death. Rationally he knew the man was gone. He knew it. He did. The moments of forgetting were getting fewer and farther between. But for some reason it didn’t seem to solidly hit him until now. Until this moment.

Mr. Stark didn’t know what he’d almost just done and that he was lying here bleeding in an alley. No one knew. No one was coming to help him. Spiderman was all alone.

The crazed laughing caught in his throat and the next second he was crying. Deep, gut wrenching sobs. He rolled over onto his side and curled into a ball even though it aggravated his injuries. He cried and cried and cried.

It’d been almost six months, and Peter Parker knew that Tony Stark was gone but this was the moment Spiderman truly realized it as well.

It felt like losing Mr. Stark all over again.

The next night, Peter laid in bed, wide awake. He’d gone to his room two hours earlier but sleep had evaded him. He couldn’t patrol because his entire body was still one giant bruise and he was pretty sure he still had a few broken bones and a concussion after his crash into the alley the night before.

He’d thought about going out anyway but after his brush with death yesterday, going out this injured seemed too close to trying to repeat the same scenario in a different way. He stared tiredly at the ceiling. He’d been a zombie all day, unable to focus. Had he really tried to kill himself last night? Or had it been a mistake? A brief error in judgement?

He heard May on the phone in the living room.

“I don’t know what to do Happy. He’s not coping. I’ve tried talking to him, but he won’t talk to me.” May said quietly, obviously trying to keep from being overheard. “It’s been months and he’s not getting any better. He’s not sleeping. I can barely get him to eat. He’s still not-he’s not…Peter.”

May fell silent. Happy was probably saying something back. Peter rolled over and tried to bury his head under his pillow. He didn’t want to hear this. Stupid super hearing. May knew he had it, but she probably thought he was asleep. Rightly so. He should be asleep. He wished he could sleep. He hated this new insomnia that had plagued him ever since the battle with Thanos.

At first he’d wondered if it was a side effect of coming back from the snap, a result of some kind of mistake when his molecules had coalesced back together again. But no one else had a similar problem. Ned still slept like a baby. So he knew it wasn’t from that. It had to be from the trauma of everything, which was also probably the reason why what little sleep he did get now was usually nightmare ridden.

“I know. I know. I just…I don’t know how to help him.” He heard May say and he could hear the tremble in her voice. She was trying not to cry. God. He sat up and grabbed his headphones off his nightstand. Before he could hear anything else he plugged them into his phone and started blasting his music, washing out any more of her conversation.

He told himself it was because she deserved her privacy, not because he didn’t need any more guilt piled onto him for things he couldn’t seem to help.

He closed his eyes and tried in vain to fall asleep as the music pounded in his ears.

Peter laid on the couch, watching something mindless on TV. He wasn’t even sure what it was. May had been watching it before she left for work and once he’d flopped down on the couch after breakfast, he’d been too exhausted to search for the remote to change it, so he’d just left it on. Fatigue plagued him. The three hours of fragmented sleep he’d gotten last night definitely hadn’t been enough.

Whatever the show was, it was boring. He closed his eyes. Maybe he could rest on the couch. Maybe a change in scenery would make a difference and he’d be able to sleep here. But the moment he decided to try it, someone knocked on the door.

Peter ignored it. He wasn’t expecting anyone. A delivery person probably had the wrong apartment. They’d figure it out. Half a minute passed and when Peter figured the person had left, the knock came again. Dammit. He was actually going to have to get up.

He dragged himself to his feet and trudged over to the door. The knock resounded again.

“I’m coming. I’m coming.” He grumbled as he unlocked the door and opened it.

And came face to face with Happy.

Peter frowned. “Um…hi?”

“You going to invite me in?” Happy complained, impatient.

“Uh yeah sure. Come in.” He stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind him. “Um did I…know you were coming over? And forget?”

He became keenly aware that he was still dressed in his flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt even though it was almost noon. He hadn’t brushed his teeth yet either. Or his hair. He ran a hand through it, trying to calm the wild waves.

“No kid. Your aunt asked me to come over.” Happy answered as they both stood awkwardly just inside the doorway.

“She did? Why?”

“She’s worried about you.” Happy said, not mincing the words.

Right. May had called Happy last night. He didn’t think that meant the man would actually come over.

“And how’s that your problem?” Peter scoffed and walked away, back toward the couch. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with May. Not with Happy. Not with anyone.

“Because it is.” Happy said, following him. “Anything to do with you is my problem.”

“Why?” He sniped and flopped heavily back down onto the couch.

“You know why.” Happy answered gravely and Peter looked away.

Happy kept staring down at him from where he stood, arms crossed. If he’d been able to feel anything lately it might’ve made him feel vulnerable, but it didn’t.

“Well don’t worry, I relieve you of any misplaced responsibility you feel towards me.” Peter said.

Happy didn’t move.

“That means you can go.” Peter grit out at him.

“I’m not leaving.” Happy said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “You know you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to pretend to care about me all of a sudden out of some kind of stupid guilt complex.”

“I’m not pretending.” Happy replied, sounding angry about it.

“You don’t have to lie to me and you don’t have to do whatever this is.” Peter waved a hand between them. “He’s not actually here. He’s not going to know if you help me or not. Because he’s dead.”

Happy honest to god flinched, but he recovered quickly.

“You’re right.” Happy nodded. “Tony’s dead. And it sucks. I get it kid. I do. You think I’m not hurting? You think you’re the only one?”

Peter glared at his feet, avoiding looking at Happy.

Happy sighed.

“I know it’s hard.” The man continued. “But there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to figure out how to move on. You have to figure out how to move on.”

“Maybe I can’t.” Peter said, voice dead.

Happy sighed heavily again and sat down on the coffee table, leaning forward so they were almost face to face and Peter was forced to meet his gaze.

“You think this is what he would’ve wanted?” Happy asked. “For you to live out the rest of your life miserable?”

Peter shrugged.

“Because it’s not. I can tell you that for sure. He only wanted the best for you. He cared about you kid. And by doing this, by refusing to even try to move on, you’re spitting his sacrifice in the face.”

He knew Happy was right. He knew he couldn’t keep going like this. It wasn’t living. But he didn’t know what to do about it.

I almost killed myself the other night. It was on the tip of his tongue to confess. It felt like the right moment, the best way to hammer home how bad he was doing, but he held back. He couldn’t tell Happy that. Everyone would freak out. And he had it under control. He did. He hadn’t gone out as Spiderman since.

“I don’t know how to move on.” He admitted instead, voice cracking. He looked down at his lap, embarrassed. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

He dropped his face into his hands. The tears were back.

Happy moved to sit on the couch next to him and tugged him against his side in a one armed hug, hand tangling roughly in his hair.

“We’ll help you.” Happy said softly. “We’re here for you kid. You’re not alone. But you have to talk to us. You can’t keep shutting everyone out.”

“I just miss him so much.” He sniffled.

“I know. God I know kid. I miss him too. Everyday.” Happy said, sounding close to tears himself.

Peter turned his head into Happy’s chest and sniffled, letting Happy hold him. They sat there together for a few minutes until Peter gathered himself well enough to pull away.

“Thanks.” He mumbled quietly and ducked his head.

Happy ruffled his hair and stood. “Come on. Go get dressed and I’ll take you out to lunch. My treat.”

Peter gave him a shadow of a smile and got up to go change.

When he came back out in jeans and an old AC/DC t-shirt he’d pilfered from Tony’s closet a few weeks ago, Happy was waiting for him by the door.

“Nice shirt.” Happy commented with a little nod of his head.

“Thanks.” Peter said. “I stole it.”

“I know.” Happy opened the door for him and they left.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked after he’d locked the door behind them.

“You tell me. What sounds good?”

“Cheeseburgers?” He suggested. For some reason that sounded amazing right now. It was the first time in a long time he could remember having an actual appetite for something.

Happy snorted but his eyes glistened. “Of course. Cheeseburgers it is. I know just the place.”

“Thanks Happy.” He said earnestly. He hoped the man knew he wasn’t thanking him only for the cheeseburgers.

Happy didn’t respond, but he slung a loose arm around Peter’s shoulders as they walked out together. It wasn’t the same as when Tony did it, but it gave him some level of comfort all the same. Maybe just maybe Happy was right and he could eventually figure out how to be ok again.

#my fic

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