Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath ~ Eckhart Tolle
Crap.
Well, this is a sticky situation.
"Do you... want one?" I squeeze my hands and stare at him in anticipation.
Peter looks at me in disbelief. This is then followed by him dropping the cigarette and squishing it underneath his foot. I wince as he rubs his foot on top of it and continues to glare at me. He puts his hand out and raises his eyebrow. I give him pleading eyes, but he doesn't budge. I sigh, open my bag, pull out the remaining packet and drop it in his palm. He doesn't say a word but walks over to the nearby bin and throws it in.
Still speechless, he walks back over and sits beside me on the bench. The craving for the nicotine comes over me like a wave and I clench my fists to try and fight it. The tension is thick and with someone as sweet as Peter, the tension is unbearable. But he breaks it. "Why?" he asks, turning to look at me.
I don't look back, but can see his brown eyes filled with concerned from the corner of my eye. I chew on my lower lip and hope that if I stay quiet and don't answer, he'll leave me be. But it's Peter Parker, and if he has his mind set on something, he will get it no matter what.
"You can talk to me, Raven," he says gently, "you might not trust me, but--"
Now I face him and look at him in shock. "--Peter, I do trust you. It's just that..." I exhale softly and avoid his gaze, "I don't want to say it out loud, because then it makes it real. I don't want it to be real. I just want to wake up and hope it's all a dream."
Peter smiles sympathetically, "but it's not a dream. I get it." He gets up off of the bench and takes a few steps away, leaving me with my thoughts. But already, I feel so overwhelmed and just wanting to smoke. He's the only one who makes it go away.
"Wait!" I yell out after him. He swivels on his heel and looks me in the eye hopefully. I pat the spot next to me on the bench and the corners of his mouth tilt upwards slightly. He comes back and sits next to me, leaning forward and listening intently.
I make sure to not look at him while I speak, because then I'll stop. And I don't want to stop. I want to tell Peter everything. I want to spill out my heart to him. "A few years ago, my dad got cancer and he decided to pursue his dreams in case he..." my voice trails off and I clear my throat so I can continue, "anyways, he wanted to open his own lab that studies insects." I laugh quietly, "he was always interested in insects for some weird reason. He is such an inspiration to me because back then, I dreamt of becoming a writer. But my mom thought differently. She thought he was leaving us in the cold. So one night after dad, my brother and I came back from going out, we walked in on her in bed... with my uncle."
I can see Peter frown and I bite the insides of my cheeks, urging myself forward. "Obviously, they got divorced and I'm stuck with my mom. Just by looking at her, I relive the whole memory and it really sucks. I would choose to live with dad but firstly, school. Midtown Tech is a good school and secondly, wherever I go, my younger brother goes. And he doesn't understand what mom did and he loves her more than anything. I couldn't do that to him," I take a deep breath and then continue, "and now dad's cancer is back and he can't afford chemotherapy. So it's either sell the lab or not get chemo and potentially..."
I can't bring myself to say the d-word again. Peter wraps an arm around me, but I still don't look at him. If I saw the sympathy in my eyes, the tears would be too strong and I wouldn't be able to fight them. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Sorry for what?" I smirk, knowing where this is heading.
He grins like a Cheshire cat, "for asking."
We walk side by side back into school. "I've come up with my own personal mission," Peter announces.
I roll my eyes, "what now?"
"I will help you quit smoking," he declares.
It's kind of him. Really kind of him. But... "it's... not your problem Peter," I tell him.
"As your student adviser, it is."
I groan, "right. That still exists. And you're proud of it."
He ignores me and continues talking, "I will go into depth with research and buy patches with my own pocket money and take the effort to do it."
"That's very sweet of you. But seriously, you don't have to--"
He cuts me off, "-- no buts! I'm doing it."
I succumb and dismiss his whining with a wave of my hand, "fine." To be honest, I see a little bit of... Tony in Peter. His determination, his persistence. The only difference? Tony is an asshole and Peter is not.
"We should head to the auditorium," Peter says.
My brow furrows, "why?"
He chuckles, "and you call me clueless. They're lecturing us and we have the guest and stuff."
"Lecturing? Count me out," I moan and then change my mind, "wait, who's the guest?"
If it's someone I absolutely adore, then maybe I'll change my mind. We're outside of the auditorium and Peter grins relentlessly, "Tony Stark."
Now, I'm sitting in the plush red seats of the auditorium and fiddling with my hands as I await the arrival of my trash uncle. Why did I even come? I came here to judge him and find more things to be angry at him about. He's going to drone on about how successful and amazing his company is while I sit here knowing the filthy side to him.
Peter leans towards my seat and whispers, "Mr Stark is great, you'll love him."
"How do you know him again?" I ask.
He shrugs, "just an internship with his company."
Hm. I was the wrong person for Pinell to ask. But from the way Peter talks about Tony, even from these few lines, it seems that he worships him. So Peter would've been a bad option too. "I don't know, from what I've heard, he's a dick," I mutter, hoping he doesn't hear me. But he does. And he looks hurt.
In the next second, the auditorium erupts with cheers and claps as the familiar figure in the blue suit walks onto stage. He waves his hand and advances to centre stage, a smug smile on his face. Oh, how I wish I could go and send his ass to Mars.
"Hello Midtown Tech!" his voice makes me sick to the stomach, "now, I know we're all excited for career's day, but I bet you're all busy people and have places to be, unlike me." The crowd laughs and I scoff. That wasn't even funny! Look at him thinking he's so cool. "So, as most of you know, I am Tony Stark. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist." Another round of giggles.
"I'm here to basically tell you about my life. And I'll be telling you a lot. Not just the highlights," he looks down as he says this, "my life seems great, but we've all done things we've regretted. I... did something many years ago that I can't forgive myself for, ever. And I'm sure the people involved can't either." A sinking feeling appears in my gut as I realize what he's referring to.
He continues to ramble on a bit about making crucial life choices and how your life isn't always on one path and blah blah blah... "So let's get into some business-y stuff," he clears his throat, "so recently, I've invested in a lab. The owner was pretty hesitant to accept my offer at first."
A pang hits my heart as a certain possibility arises. No. He wouldn't... right?
"The lab is located in the heart of Miami."
Stay positive.
There are many labs in Miami.
"It's a lab for insects actually."
Stay optimistic.
Maybe there are more insect labs in Miami.
"I actually know the owner pretty well. He was involved in the thing that I was talking about earlier about my past."
My heart drops to my feet. That's it. He brought dad's lab. The owner was pretty hesitant to accept my offer at first. Did he just force dad to hand it over? Blackmailed him? How much did he even pay?
"That's probably why he was so resistant." That's it, I can't take it anymore.
I stand up and Peter quietly shouts, "where are you going?!"
"I'm leaving," I tell him and shove through the legs of people who are sitting in the aisle. We're only in the middle and the stairs are a long way up. I wrap my arms around myself and run up as fast as I can.
But words travel faster than I do. "Have I bored someone already? Am I that boring?" Tony asks amused.
And my life sucks that much.
So all eyes turn to look at me.
All hundreds of eyes.
I stop dead in my tracks, my back to the stage. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just..."
His voice fades away as I face him. Our eyes meet and his face falls. My eyes are small, glaring. He obviously recognizes me. The entire room is silent, my eyes staring into his and his, staring into mine. The auditorium is so tense as hushed whispers begin to arise.
I can't stand having people talking about me.
So I just storm out, the hallway providing me a breath of relief.