𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐞- 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

4

    But after yesterday, there was no more happy Peter Parker. I sat on the couch flabbergasted about the news heading. Peter's uncle had been killed last night during a robbery down the street at the gas station we were just at nights ago.

My heart ached for the boy silently making his way through the hallway without trying to acknowledge everyone staring at him. People moved out of his way without even apologizing as if he was a disease.

I found him at his locker with Flash pressed up against it from his force. Peter set him down gently before taking off towards me.

"Hey, Peter." I whispered sympathetically.

His eyes were red and puffy without any tears trickling down his cheeks. He didn't make eye contact, but I could tell his eyes showed all the pain he was feeling. He didn't bother hiding it.

I pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping my arms around his neck. But he didn't say anything. He didn't hug back. He simply kept walking.

Peter spoke very few words to me all day and sat in his chair sketching in his notebook instead of paying attention. I couldn't get a good glimpse of what it was.

A few times I caught Gwen spinning around in her seat to check on him too. She hugged him in the hall as well, making me wonder how much they talked.

Serena would whisper to me in the halls, wondering how I got close enough to him to be allowed to hug him. She was still mind blown over the whole basketball thing. I ignored her.

I was currently on about my thousandth call of the night. If I called anymore I swear his mail box would be full and it would go straight to voice mail without even a few rings.

I sighed and set my phone down. Of course I was being annoying why would I do this. He needed space instead of constant phone calls. "What am I doing?" I threw my phone onto my bed and sat down.

Not even a second later my phone rang. Peter's name was flashing on the screen. I answered right away, worriedly waiting for him to yell at me for bugging him so much when his uncle just passed away.

But instead his voice was heartbroken and pleading. "Hey. I'm sorry for asking, but do you think you could come over for a little?"

"Of course." I replied. "I'll be there shortly."

I've been to his house in the past for the project, but Peter sent me his address anyway. I put on my coat, told my mom I was going to Serena's, and started my way to his place. It wasn't a far walk at all.

On the way I picked up some flowers and bought some soup I remember Aunt May got for us on one of the days I came over. The last thing they needed to be doing was bothering with cooking and kitchen supplies.

When I arrived Peter was already waiting outside with his head in his hands. The door was replaced with a large covering that would need to be fixed. I didn't question it, though.

"Hey."

He stood up, painfully enveloping me in a hug. I hugged him back sweetly until he let go and led me to the side where there was a working door. His Aunt May was sitting at the table with a tissue in her hand.

"I'm so sorry for your lose." I hugged her. "Did you guys eat yet? I brought soup."

His Aunt May thanked me and gratefully took the bag with the containers along with the flowers. We ate in silence except for a few sniffles here and there. I reached over, taking Peter's hand in mine. He didn't seem to acknowledge it until he squeezed mine a bit harder.

I didn't want to ask about Uncle Ben or anything surrounding that night. It was still a fresh cut and based off of Aunt May's behavior she didn't want to talk about it either.

Eventually Aunt May excused herself and rushed upstairs. Peter and I stayed there with his hand in mine. He barely touched his food either. He only played around with it and took a few bites to lesson his Aunt May's worries.

"Thanks for being here." Peter's voice was hoarse and quiet.

"It's not a problem."

He bit on his thumb. "It was my fault."

"It wasn't your fault, Peter." I reassured.

"We got into an argument. I stormed out." His eyes motioned to the broken door. "He went out looking for me. I was at the gas station. The shooter was behind me. I could have stopped him, but I stood and watched."

"You're convincing yourself it's your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done. You didn't know what was going to happen or where your uncle was."

"It doesn't matter. He was looking for me. I had a job to do that I wasn't responsible enough to take care of. If I just did it..." he didn't finish the sentence before he broke down in tears.

I wasn't sure how to comfort him or what to say next. To be fair, I was never good at words or understanding what to say. The most I could do was offer a hug he gladly accepted. He collapsed into my hug, crying softly against my neck. He just lets me hold him, his arms wrapped around my waist, my hand softly rubbing his back. I felt him pull me closer and hug me tighter. He cries harder causing my heart to drop.