𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋||𝐏. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 ||

𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊

PETER PARKER

AFTER getting off of the phone with Anastasia, who I just had a whole hours conversation with, I left my bedroom to go and eat breakfast.

It's 4PM.

Anyway, instead of being met with food, I was met with a pissed off looking May.

"I'm not messing around with you, Peter." She says, her hands on her hips and looking at me with disappointment.

"What do you want me to say?" I shrug. "I told you they're not mine."

"I let you have the cigarettes." She continues. "But I won't allow you to do drugs in my house."

So I can do drugs...outside of the house? Good to know.

Apparently May found my secret stash of cocaine in my drawer, and didn't want to bring it up until I got off the phone with Anastasia.

In other words, I'm fucked.

"I told you, May. They're not my fucking drugs!" I lie through my teeth.

I've gotten so used to lying, it's become easy for me. I don't even have to properly think about the lie in my head beforehand, I can just open my mouth and the wildest shit can come out.

"You expect me to believe you're holding these for a friend?" She scoffs, clutching the bag of white powder.

Fuck, I need that right now.

"Yes." I respond. "I don't do drugs, May."

"Cut the bullshit." She says, her voice wavering. "I won't have you overdosing again, Peter. I won't. You're taking a drug test."

Shit, shit, shit.

I may or may not have snorted some meth the night before and I know for a fact it'll still be in my system.

"I don't have time for a drug test, May." I tell her. "I'm going out."

"You're not going anywhere until you take the damn test!" She yells after me as I go back into my bedroom to put a shirt on.

Anastasia actually invited me over to her place, since we have a day off of school and her dad isn't home.

I can't stop thinking about the day we kissed. We haven't spoken about it since- nor have we kissed again, for that matter. Since that, we've just been acting how we normally do. With just a little bit of extra flirting, mostly coming from myself.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss her again. I'm shocked to say it but having Anastasia in my arms as we kissed felt so much better than doing drugs.

It's like she's a drug. A much healthier one though, one that I can take everyday and not worry about my liver failing.

"I'm leaving the house." I say to May, grabbing my jacket and putting my shoes on. "And I'm not taking a drug test."

I know if May saw that I had drugs in my system, she wouldn't hesitate to put me back in the hospital or back in therapy. As much as I liked the relaxing aspect of therapy, I hated that the doctor thought they knew everything about me, and made stupid assumptions.