Peter Parker was a nice kid, but he wasn't your friend.
Although he was in the grade below you, he was in a majority of your classes. You weren't sure why you rarely spoke to him. Perhaps it because you always caught him staring at you. His eyes would go wide, his cheeks would burn, and his lips would part like he would say something, but nothing ever came out of his mouth. He gaped like a fish out of water. It just made you uncomfortable.
You weren't used to having someone notice you in school. Since freshman year, you had been pushed to the side. You were invisible; an afterthought. You weren't the target for most bullies until you were the only one in their path.
Peter was usually the target for your bullies, and if he wasn't at school, you would get picked on. It wasn't his fault, but you couldn't help but get a little angry at him every time he didn't show up to school - which had been more frequent.
So Peter Parker was a nice kid, but he wasn't your friend.
After third period, Flash always stood outside of English class. You shared the class with Peter who, like the last three days, had not shown up. He was grouped with a couple of girls that he probably bribed to hang out with him. He bought all of his friends.
"Hey, geek," he said lamely, eyeing you as you walked by.
You kept your head ducked down and your books to your chest. Your mother always said that bullies would get bored if there wasn't a reaction out of the victim.
Flash wasn't just any bully, apparently, because he shot his foot out next. You tried to halt your steps in time, but you ended up tripping over him anyway. Your arms dropped your books and your body tipped forward. Your chin slammed painfully against the floor, arms useless on either side of your head. You didn't catch yourself in time.
Everyone laughed. Everyone.
Your face was red and your eyes were watering from the throbbing along your jaw, your chin, and your teeth. You slowly pulled yourself up to your feet.
"Oh crap, are you actually crying? So you do have emotions!" Flash exclaimed, laughing.
If you ignore him, he will stop.
But the anger that surged through you was too much to just ignore him. You took a giant step towards him and drew your fist back. His eyes widened as your fist neared his face, ending directly on his nose.
He cried out, blood gushing from his face, hands covering his nose. You blinked in surprise. Your hand was wet with the blood that dripped from your knuckles and in between your fingers.
The girls around him gasped. One of them, a tall brunette, swung her head to you. "You freak!" she said, and she pushed you backwards.
You fell on your back, more surprised with yourself than anything. You suppressed a laugh as Flash looked up from his hands, crying at the sight of blood in his palms.
When a giggle broke through your lips, Flash reached down and lifted you to your feet by the front of your shirt.
"Look," he spat, "I'm usually against hitting girls, but you're proving to be less of a girl and more like a pain!"
His face connected with your face before you could wiggle away. You yelped and fell on the ground, dragging him on top of you.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Although you fought back, swinging your fists around, you weren't able to overpower Flash, who was running on pure anger and spite.
He knocked you three times in the eye. By the third time his knuckles connected with your eye, you were fading in and out. The pain was almost unbearable, but not as bad as the ringing in your ears.
You turned your head away from him, ready to just give up, waiting for someone in the crowd of students to break up the fight. No one would. You got hit again. You whimpered. You just wanted it to stop.
"Stop, stop!"
Please stop.
"Stop! Stop it, Flash!"
It wasn't you that was pleading. It was Peter, who had come in late for school. He had pushed through the crowd of chanting students to find Flash hitting a girl that barely had the strength to fight back.
When he saw that it was you, his heart constricted in his chest.
He had had a crush on you for months. He was always caught staring at you. Maybe you thought he was creepy, but he was just contemplating how to talk to you. He was socially awkward, you were gorgeous, and he was a year younger.
Peter forgot his abnormal strength as he dropped his books, grabbed Flash by the back of his shirt, and heaved him into the air. Flash slammed against the closed lockers and everyone fell silent.
Peter took only a second to stand there and absorb every stare that came his way. Then he turned to you, put a hand under your back and wrapped another around your wrist.
You were barely conscious as you lifted your head, eyes swollen and watering. Peter frowned as he draped your arm over his shoulders and lifted you to your feet.
"Peter Parker," you mumbled. It was barely audible.
"Yeah," he breathed, keeping his eyes on the ground as he walked you through the still silent crowd of people.
"Don't... don't take me to the nurse's office. I don't want to be suspended," you got out.
"But you didn't start the fight."
"Just don't, Peter, please. I can't... risk it." Your voice sounded so small and desperate. He realized that you were afraid because you never had a detention or even got a warning before.
"I won't," he promised.
You leaned your head towards him. He paused, smiling a little to himself before he remembered that you were pretty much just out of it.
Peter was beyond mad. Flash was a jerk and always had been, but he had never taken it that far. Ever.
Peter decided to take you home. It seemed like a good idea until he got off school property and realized that he had no idea where your home was. He couldn't ask you, either; you were out like a light.
If he took you to Aunt May, maybe she could call and find your parents and he could take you home when you woke up. That was a good idea, Peter thought.
The tops of your sneakers dragged across the sidewalk. Every now and again, you would groan or whimper in pain. He was afraid he was hurting you, but he couldn't stop walking.
Aunt May was home when he stepped in. She was confused and, at first, angry when she heard him walk in. But when she saw the bruised girl he carried and heard his explanation, she launched into a full investigation.
Peter put you on his bed. That was fine, right? It was more comfortable than the couch.
He grabbed an ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen. You would certainly need both when you came to. He covered you up with a sheet and sat back in his computer chair, just watching you.
What was everyone at school saying about him now? He probably blew his cover. Peter Parker, school loser and biggest wimp in Queens, just threw Flash across a hallway and dented some lockers.
He sighed heavily. The stress was hitting him hard. He brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes roughly.
You moved. He stood up, swallowing hard as your two black eyelids peeled open slowly. You blinked once. It took a brief moment before you recalled the last things to happen to you.
"It's okay, it's okay," he said quickly, rushing to your side. He grabbed the ice pack and sat down in the side of the bed. You pushed yourself off the bed and scooted away from him. "I... I didn't kidnap you or anything. You wanted to go home and I didn't know where it was. My aunt is calling your parents right now."
"How... how long have I been here?"
"Not long," he said.
You nodded. Just got beat up, now sitting in Peter Parker's room.
He laughed nervously. "I, uh, probably just should have taken you to the nurse's office. You were out of it, anyway."
"I really didn't want to go so I'm glad you didn't."
He nodded and pressed his lips together, taking in the bruises that littered your skin. "How are you, uh, feeling?"
"Like I just got beat up," you said. "I bet I look that way, too."
"I am so sorry that happened to you," he said softly. He put the ice pack in your hand and guided it your face. You pressed it against your chin, a sigh of relief slipping out of you. "Flash is a jerk."
"I'd say," you said, groaning.
He sat there for a minute, just staring at you like he always did. It wasn't weird this time. Now you were close enough to see his eyes. They were kind. He wasn't a creep at all.
You smiled a little. "Did you beat him up for me, Peter Parker?" you asked your hero.
He laughed and looked away, thinking about the dents in the lockers again. "Yeah, sorta."
"I hope you got a few good hits in. I wasn't even phasing him."
"He unfairly had you pinned down. It wasn't your fault. I bet you could have taken him down any day."
You snorted. "Now you're just being nice."
"I mean it," he said, and it sounded like he did.
You smiled wider. "Thank you. I genuinely mean it. Thank you for stopping him, Peter."
His cheeks were pink. "You're... you're welcome."