a spider & the devil

02. noodles

Peter fitted the cold key into the colder keyhole, twisting it around in the lock. His ears picked up all the little clicks and whirs that went on inside as it unlocked, giving way and allowing him to carefully twist the doorknob. He pushed the door open and slipped inside.

He smelled pasta, slightly overcooked, still simmering in the pan on the stove. And pasta sauce from a jar on the counter, a little too old, might start to grow mold within the next few days, along with freshly cleaned dishes on the counter. One still had a spot of egg stuck to it. He didn't have to strain his ears to hear May brushing her teeth, currently on the top molars, in the bathroom down the hall. She hadn't heard him come home yet.

Setting his cane on the kitchen table, he stripped himself of his jacket and glasses and crossed the kitchen to the stove. His feet didn't meet any obstacles on the floor, as May had learned to keep walkways clear after he had tripped one too many times. He opened a drawer and fished out two potholders, then found a colander in the cabinet underneath that he placed in the sink after moving a few dirty dishes. Gripping the handles of the pot with the potholders, he hefted the heavy chunk of ancient aluminum and tipped it into the sink, where the noodles toppled into the colander and the boiling water splashed over the sides and down the drain.

The sounds of May rinsing her toothbrush and putting the cap on her toothpaste made him quicken. He placed the empty pot back onto the stove and, after sifting the colander around until he could hear that most of the water had dripped out, dumped it back into the pot. He hastily dropped the colander back into the sink and stepped away from the crime scene and back to the door, trying his best to look like he'd just arrived.

Her footsteps, slightly padded with thinner socks, flapped down the hall and she gave a little gasp of relief after a few steps, probably when she saw him standing there. He couldn't hold back a grin.

"Hey, May," he said, pretending to set his cane back down. "How was your day?"

Peter held out his arms for a hug until her flowery scent drew nearer to him and he embraced her, breathing it in. May squeezed him so hard he heard something pop and strain in his back and her shoulders.

"Oh the usual, buddy," she sighed contentedly. She ran a hand through his hair, a sensation she knew he had grown attached to after the accident. "Had lots of people come in today. A little more than usual, actually. Some people lost their homes to this horrible villain-guy, apparently..."

He heard the suggestion in her voice, picked up on the near-accusation. Clenching his jaw and hugging his arms in response, he remained silent and listened to her pick her way across the kitchen. She was surprised by the noodles.

"Huh, I'd forgotten I did this," she muttered to herself. 

"I'm not doing it again," he mumbled quietly as he kicked off his shoes and placed them by the door. "Please stop doing that."

"What?" she asked innocently. "Oh, no, Peter, I wasn't trying to. I mean, you were just so much happier with...the internship. I just thought the other guy might show his face eventually."

After briskly switching off the stove and pulling down plates, it was her turn to interrogate him.

"What about your day?" she asked as he felt around the counter for the plates and took the one off the top. He chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh, the usual, dear auntie," he said, mimicking her. "Classes, homework, boring stuff."

"I don't believe that for one second." She gave his shoulder an affectionate knock as she passed, placing the noodles and plates onto the table. "Want some dinner?"

"Yes, please," he said as his stomach rumbled. Having his sight taken away hadn't messed with his superpowered metabolism in any way. Thankfully May had boiled a family-size box of pasta.

They sat down and started eating in silence, a drop of sweat sliding down Peter's forehead as he tried not to focus on the sounds. By the time they were finished, he felt like he'd run a marathon.

"I'm...going to go work on some homework," he announced, pushing his chair away from the table with a scrape that caught in all the imperfections in the floor. May nodded, earings clinking.

After dropping his plate into the sink, Peter entered his bedroom, sighing as relief trickled down his neck and settled into his spine. His fingers brushed along his desk, hesitating on the spot that used to be reserved for the stacks upon stacks of books and papers he used for research and work. Now there was nothing but his computer, his headphones, and his refreshable Braille display, which he didn't really use, but Tony Stark had developed the pity to send him. It made him sick when he used it, left a too-sweet taste in his mouth. Reminded him of the man who had promised to be his mentor, left him as soon as he'd become inconvenient.

He sat on the edge of his bed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the sore spot between his eyes. His eyes that ached 24/7 and flashed like fireworks, his cells in constant states of feeble attempts of self-repair.

It was exhausting to just exist, to just get from one day to the next.

I suppose it's that way with everybody who exists, he thought. But then again, not everybody's eyes are as painful as mine.

His one blessing with this was that his eyes looked totally normal. So if needed, though he hadn't found a scenario yet, he could pretend to be sighted. He figured it wouldn't be that hard, unless some stuff was left on the ground and he tripped over it. Though he could blame it on clumsiness. Maybe if a villain---

He aggressively pushed the thought out of his head and opened his computer, fitting his headphones over his ears. His screenreader read out the homework he had left to do, which he poured himself into for the rest of the night, trying to forget about his past, not think about his bleak future, and focus on the present.