Permanent

chapter twelve

Hey y'all! This is more of a filler/in-between transition chapter for the story but enjoy!!

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After a few hours, people started showing up and he was no longer alone in the orphanage. He didn't meet any of them–at least not yet–but he could hear them. From the sounds of it, there were a lot of kids too.

He heard footsteps approaching the door and turned to look as it opened.

A boy who looked to be around his age walked in, closing the door behind him and going to the bed across from Peter's. He had brown, short hair and his face seemed to be twisted in a scowl, though when he spoke he didn't sound angry.

"So you're the new kid, huh?" The boy sat down on the bed, leaning against the wall, and faced Peter. He looked at him for only a second before recognition flashed across his face. "You're Peter Parker. You're the one that faked your death and broke all those laws. Shouldn't you be in jail or something?"

Peter felt a pang in his chest at the question. He didn't know if it was because he'd thought he'd be going to jail, or because of the boy's accusing tone.

He just shrugged, trying to play it off as if it wasn't a big deal. "What's your name?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Jack. Look, we aren't gonna be friends, got it? I don't want to be friends with a criminal; you'll probably get me in trouble and I don't need that here." Jack had his eyebrows tilted down and a frown while speaking. He grabbed a few of his things and marched out of the room.

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. This was going great already.

For a while, Peter hung out in his room. He didn't know anyone else or even know what other rooms there were, so he settled for this instead.

A few hours later, another boy walked in. He looked older, with shoulder-length blonde hair and stubble across his face. He didn't look surprised to see Peter there.

"Jack said you were here." He sighed, sitting on his own bed on the other side of the room. "I'm Noah."

"I'm Peter." Noah nodded.

"You're sixteen, right?"

"Uh, yeah. How old are you?" It was a little off-putting that a complete stranger knew his name. He should've expected it though with all the news articles about him now.

"Seventeen, almost eighteen. I'm leaving this place soon," Noah sighed, laying back onto his bed. Peter wished he'd be able to leave soon.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, both on their phones, before Noah suddenly sat up and asked him a question. "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Everything. Fake your death, live under a new name for months, and hide from the cops for three weeks. It's crazy, dude."

Peter laid back on his own bed and stared up at the ceiling. "They thought I died and I just stayed hidden until I left the state. I just hid from the cops and didn't go outside much," Peter answered, somewhat vaguely.

"Wow..." Noah started, trailing off. "You're either the craziest or coolest person I've met."

Peter grinned at the statement but shrugged it off. He wouldn't lie and say it wasn't one of the hardest things he'd done–creating his new identity–but he couldn't imagine it being that cool.

They hung out in their room until dinner, only occasionally talking. Peter hadn't learned much about him, other than the fact that he usually wasn't here all day.