Chapter Text
Faster, faster, faster. He needed to keep going, otherwise he was going to be late. And he wouldn’t get away with being late again.
The sixteen year old put as much speed as he could into his legs, the limbs threatening to give out beneath him, either from a lack of food or the numerous injuries adorning his body, he didn’t know.
The only thing he did know, was that he had to make it in time.
Peter Parker was late for his job, again. He hadn’t meant to wake up late; he usually was woken with the rising of the frost bitten sun shining into his eyes, but last night he’d gotten particularly injured from his other job, and had passed out in an alley where the light hadn’t been able to reach him.
After he managed to pull himself up from the freezing cold concrete, head and injuries pounding in opposition, he’d had to rush back to the rooftop where he kept most of his stuff to get changed into his work uniform, putting him five minutes behind his usual routine, meaning that he had to run twice as fast to make it.
Unfortunately, swinging wasn’t an option. Even if he didn’t have to worry about getting caught at work in his suit, he was out of web fluid.
The teenager’s heart was pounding in anxiety as he was slowed down waiting for traffic. His boss’ cruel threats the last time he was late about what would happen if he did it again ringing in his ears.
As soon as he saw a gap between cars, he ran through, horns blaring angrily at him only increasing the pounding in his head.
Peter twisted to turn the corner of the street, not at all prepared for his life to suddenly play into that infamous romcom moment as he- much to his humiliation- ran into someone’s chest, being thrown off balance.
Only he wasn’t caught by a hand at the last possible second like the movies, and made forceful contact with the ground. Reality.
For a moment, things went quiet and fuzzy, vision blurring as he blinked sluggishly and groaned at the pain in the back of his skull.
His skin prickled in a warning of danger (better late than never) just before a worried hand made contact with his arm.
Peter jolted away, and with that action all of his senses slammed back into focus, once again overwhelming the enhanced teenager with the severity of it.
“Damn it.” He heard somebody grouse, and it was then that he got the first look at the person he’d ran into.
It was a man dressed in a nice, seemingly expensive suit, the white material of the button up shirt turning brown with hot coffee that had been spilt on it in the collision. Peter’s eyes widened in panic as it clicked that he’d been responsible for the spillage, the boy stumbling up to his feet, heart racing in fear when that same hand returned to his arm to help him up.
The teen unwillingly flinched away, and the contact mercifully left.
“You oka-”
“Sorry! Sorry, sir! I wasn’t looking, sorry!” Peter cut in, hands shaking at his sides as he caught his breath. He hadn’t realised that he’d barely been breathing in the last few minutes of running, making him incredibly dizzy and his lungs burn in desperation.
“Now what’s got you in such a rush, huh?” The man’s voice was teasing, but it didn’t register that way for the teen, as he heard it in the same way he heard the taunting voices of drunken adults echoing throughout the darkened alleys he hid in at night. Cruel smirks promising pain as they looked for fun in the weak lonesome child who’d dared let down his guard enough to lie down for the night.
The teen stumbled back from the man, gasping from the ghost pains the memories brought.
“I-I’m sorry for— for running into you, a-and spilling your coffee, but-” but. His thoughts were jumbled. He couldn’t think past the pain, he couldn’t think past the cold, he couldn’t think past the hunger, he couldn’t think-
‘What’s got you in such a rush’
Rush. He was rushing.
“Shit,” Peter gasped, receiving a raised brow from the billionaire who, if the teen had been paying even the slightest attention to, he would have recognised. Would have cried upon seeing his former mentor, seeing the lack of recognition in t he other’s eyes.
“Gotta go, I’m sorry!” He yelled one last time, running past the man, knocking shoulders and ignoring the yell of opposition sent after him.
His boss was going to kill him.
Peter just hoped that his punishment would remain the physical kind, that he could take, what he couldn’t deal with, however, was being fired.
He’d be completely and entirely fucked, just incase his situation wasn’t messy enough already.
Putting his last bit of energy into it, he next to collapsed upon arriving at the small sandwich shop just a few minutes later.
Three minutes past the time he was supposed to be there.
Three minutes that would earn him a world of pain.
“Well look who decided to show up.”
Later that day, cradling injuries and sobbing into his knees, biting into his fist to minimise any sounds that would incite more of the cruel shop owner’s rage, Peter’s stressed out brain thought back and realised just who he’d run into that day.
The once warm and familiar voice in his life had turned into that cold politeness one would give a stranger.
Because that was all Peter was now. A stranger to everyone who’d once known him.