Just A Kid~ Homeless Peter Parker

Chapter 1- The Streets

~Two Months Later~

Pulling his hood over his head, Peter began to walk through the bustling streets of Queens. He kept his dirt-ridden face firmly facing the pavement and had his hands buried deep in his pockets as he dodged people walking past him, making sure that he didn't have to make eye contact or talk to them while he tried to ignore the thoughts punching through his head, which was pretty hard, considering he couldn't hear anything but them since his hearing aids were stolen.

'You're hungry- but broke.'

'You're being ridiculous.'

'You need to go home.'

'You're pathetic and useless.'

'You're hated by everyone, a waste of space.'

'May would be so disappointed, she'd hate you, so would Ben.'

The teen winced at the thoughts as he headed to the edge of town, avoiding the people dressed in all black and the suspicious smells. Somehow, even though he thought the same things all the time, they still hurt, like someone was shooting bullets through his head and heart. He hated it, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Eventually, he reached his destination. It was far from special, an abandoned warehouse where kids who stayed on the streets would hang out during the day, it was away from cops and no one else went there, so it was perfect.

Peter joined them in the day, but at night, he'd escape, he'd be Spider-Man, not pathetic, homeless Peter Parker, he'd leave behind his troubles and help people, it was what he lived for. He just had to wait at the warehouse until night.

None of the kid's heads turned as the teen entered; he was nothing special. He had dirt-encrusted, once-blue jeans; a ripped-up black hoodie; matted, greasy hair that no longer curled; dried blood all over the place; a ridiculously skinny physique and his face had become dangerously sallow while his pale skin was covered in dirt- at first glance, he looked like the other kids, if you looked closer, you'd be able to tell he was far worse than the others, but no one gave him a second glance, so, no one questioned him.

Peter tried to ignore his thoughts while he walked through the warehouse, keeping his head down as he headed towards the ladder opposite the door. He tried to think of nothing, mimic what he heard.

Once he reached the rusty, unsafe ladder, he gripped onto the ancient metal and yanked himself up to the balcony, which overlooked the rest of the building. He could have just walked up the wall, but he couldn't let anyone know who he was, it was the one thing he cared about while he was being Peter Parker, not letting anyone know who else he was.

Once he had climbed to the top of the ladder, he walked to the end of the balcony, so he was in the corner of the building and sat down to look at the space below.

Leaning his head against the dirty, iron wall, he gazed below with glassy eyes- trying to focus on things other than his thoughts. He looked onto the ground floor and scanned around the concrete floor, ignoring the stains of an array of colours, from green to red.

The building was full of kids who looked hungry and beat-up, just like he was, the oldest was around 19 and the youngest couldn't have even been 10. Everyone had their own 'gangs' they stuck with, everyone but Peter. There were about 5 gangs in the warehouse who each claimed their own space on the bottom floor, the balcony was Peter's territory, he never protected it, they just left it- not caring enough to try to take over. It was only a rusty balcony made up of thin, rusty, crisscrossed iron, it wouldn't support more than three people, so why would they care?

One of the gangs sat around on beaten up bar stools of all shapes, sizes, and colours, they had a multitude of half-empty bottles surrounding them and didn't care that the youngest was only 13, they were just escaping their problems, and Peter couldn't say that he blamed them for that.

Some were sitting on the floor, talking, smoking and doing stuff which was far from legal, others were fighting over ridiculous things while their 'friends' watched them, staring at them like they were TV and some just stared into space while they leaned against the disgusting walls with broken, glassy eyes, just like Peter's.

Peter simply sat there and watched, wishing he could know what they talked about and wishing he could join them, but he knew that he would most likely be beaten up mercilessly, it was better to leave them alone and shut up in a corner, left to be ignored.

As he watched, his mind began to drift away into thoughts that he didn't want to think about. He thought about how much he missed Aunt May and Uncle Ben, how we wanted his Mom and Dad; how much he missed school and being with Ned and MJ; how much he wanted to go home so that he could live in a decent apartment instead of the freezing streets of Queens; how much he wanted to be able to eat properly; how much he wanted to go back to the Stark internship.

He felt tears trickle down his sallow, dirt-covered cheeks as he thought about the things that he used to take for granted and how much he wished he could have them back, the tears carried on as he thought about the fact he'd never get any of those again: the fact that he didn't have a family anymore and that he never would; the fact he was never going back to school, never going to see Ned and MJ again; the fact that he could never go home and that he would always live on the streets; the fact that he was never going to be able to get enough food; the fact that he had lost the Stark internship, along with any hope he had of a future.

'I'm stupid.'

'I'm worthless.'

'I'm pathetic.'

'I'm weak.'

'I'm hated.'

'I'm disappointing my family.'

'But, I am Spider-Man.'

That last thought was the one thing that kept him from breaking down, the one thing that kept him sane and the one thing that gave him a reason to carry on.

As bad as Peter Parker's life was, Spider-Man was needed, Spider-Man was important and worth something, and without Peter Parker, there was no Spider-Man.

So, he needed to carry on, not for his sake but for the people in Queens. He could put up with it, barely, but he could.

Thanks to his Parker LuckTM he didn't have someone who he could turn to, so it was just him and the streets of Queens.

'I can do it,' He thought, 'I'm Spider-Man, I can do it,'

He ran his hands through his greasy hair and realised that tears were still streaming down his face. Sighing, he wiped his face and tried to get rid of all the thoughts that were punching through his head. He brought his knees to his chest, placed his head down and shut his eyes- sleep was one of the few ways he could escape, and he treasured that loss from reality.

A/N: Yay! Another chapter, it's a bit short, but I needed to introduce you to Peter's (Very sad) world.

Have a Marvellous day my geeky peeps and do something to make Natasha Romanoff and Peggy Carter proud!