THE GRAND DELUSION [ PETER PARKER ]

parker - 1

{peter}

        The basic principles of psychology suggests that the self is a sum of interactions between nature and nurture;  biological predispositions coming to fruition in regards to the environment it's fostered in. Whether Peter Parker's kindness is a result of personality traits, like his agreeability and conscientiousness, or if it's simply due to the impact of May and Ben Parker's upbringing, there's no exact measure of how much of what is exactly dedicated to nature or nurture. What matters though is that Peter Parker is a nice boy, and he's always been a nice boy.

        But some days, it's hard for him to be nice. Some days, getting out of bed and facing the world and its abundance of problems is less than appealing, and all he wants to do is cry because he can't be that nice, strong person every day.

        He knows that everything at home is falling apart. He can see that his aunt is still reeling from the weight of their loss, but she pretends it's alright, and so he does too. It's exhausting having to pretend that he doesn't grieve his uncle so much, or to be everything that's expected of him. Peter Parker is a nice boy, but the expectations are a burden that he carries with him in a backpack alongside grief, loss, and feelings of inadequacy.

        "Alright May, I'm leaving!" Peter grabs his bag from the dining chair, faking a heave as he swings the strap over his shoulder. "I'll be at Ned's for dinner after school." He adds this only as a gentle reminder because May has on her mind a stack of bills on the table and back-to-back shifts until 2am, so he knows that she's prone to forgetting these things.

        "Be safe, Peter. Text me when you get to school." Aunt May looks up at him from behind the lenses of her glasses, general concern etching her features. After Ben happened, May always fears the worst. She shoots Peter a smile, a warm one that leaves him a little fuzzy inside, so he returns it before collecting his keys and heading out the door.

       Aunt May works too hard. Peter knows that making ends meet is hard for her to keep up with by herself. After Ben died, she was left as the sole source of income for the Parker household. It doesn't help that May won't let Peter find work until he's at least seventeen, insisting that he focus on school and "staying a kid." Keeping up with groceries is therefore often hard, and sometimes he catches her not eating nearly as much as she should just so that he wouldn't go to sleep hungry.

        Peter has never felt like more of a burden on his aunt. He hates being so helpless.

        After locking the door, Peter turns around and is mildly surprised to see his neighbour curled up on the floor outside of her apartment. She's cradling her school bag to her chest, face tucked against the wall as she sleeps almost soundlessly. Peter's eyebrows furrow, and after a moment's indecision, he crosses the hall and stops in front of her.

       "Maia," he crouches down in front of her, nudging her shoulder lightly with his knuckles. His voice is quiet and his touch isn't rough, but she jolts awake still, looking up at him with wide, glassy eyes. "What're you doing out here?" He speaks carefully, hating how his voice pitches.

        If Peter's honest, Maia Webb makes him just the slightest bit uncomfortable. She's loud and funny, but she's also quiet and withdrawn. She'd moved into the building only earlier this year, the foster child of their neighbour Dr. Amelia Serrano, but his friend Michelle complained about not being able to read her immediately like she always does. It's not that Maia is secretive in the same way that Peter is. She talks a good amount about things, always trying to distract herself from a moment of silence. But there's something about the way she always seems like she's a moment's notice from turning foot and running away that makes them want to know everything.