I'm Always A Text Away -- Peter Parker Texting Story

ten

MR. DELMAR NEVER GOT ATTACHED TO his workers. He never let himself get attached, and it was usually for a single reason—his workers always left at some point, and he personally thought it wasn't good for him to repeatedly become attached to different people, only for them to leave a couple weeks or months later. 

So when he got attached to Peter Parker, he was scared. 

The boy had already spent nearly three months working for him, and he was working for his GEDs—and he was a really smart boy, too, so why was he out of high school? Mr. Delmar had never asked, because he thought it would be an invasion to the boy's privacy. 

The bell suddenly rang and Mr. Delmar instantly knew who it was. "Just in the nick of time, Parker," he said with a small, kind smile. 

"Sorry, Mr. Delmar," Peter apologized genuinely, and Mr. Delmar's smile grew wider. 

He looked up at Peter only to frown; Peter's face seemed to be too gaunt to be healthy. When Mr. Delmar had hired him, he'd been a boy with a round face, huge smile, glimmering eyes, and a bubbly personality. 

But he wasn't that Peter Parker anymore. 

Peter Parker didn't look like a boy—or teenager—anymore. No, he looked a little more like a man with his haggard appearance and his eyes no longer had the shining curiosity in them. They looked too dead, too unemotional that it broke Mr. Delmar's heart. And now that he was thinking about it, Peter Parker didn't ask as many questions as he had before. 

He looked hungry. 

Sad. 

Lonely. 

Defeated. 

"Here, come on in," Mr. Delmar said kindly. There was no one in the shop yet; there usually wasn't until noon, when people really started coming in for lunch. So as Peter walked behind the counter, looking for his apron, Mr. Delmar walked to the door, locked it, and changed the sign from WE ARE OPEN to SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED.

"Mr. Delmar?" Peter asked in confusion. "What are you doing?" 

"Stay there, Peter," said the older man, returning behind the counter to make Peter his favorite sandwich, making sure to add pickles and flatten it. Peter hovered behind him, confusion etched onto his features. 

"Wait, wait, wait, Mr. Delmar, what are you doing?" Peter suddenly burst out once he realized Mr. Delmar was making a sandwich for him. 

"It's on me, Peter," Mr. Delmar said firmly. 

"Mr. Delmar..." 

Mr. Delmar looked up to see Peter's wide eyes shine with tears. 

"Mr. Delmar, you don't have to," he whispered. 

"Peter, you look hungry." Mr. Delmar shook his head. "I told you before, I don't let my workers go hungry." He finished the sandwich and shoved it into Peter's hands before steering the boy to one of the tables. "Sit," he told him. 

Peter complied, already biting into the sandwich. Mr. Delmar sat across from him and watched him for a couple of moments before asking quietly, 

"Peter, what's going on at home?" 

Peter choked on his sandwich and coughed, setting it down on the table. He looked wide-eyed at Mr. Delmar. "Uh—what?" 

"What's going on at home?" Mr. Delmar repeated gently, watching Peter's reaction. Peter looked alarmed and confused, like he wasn't expecting the question. 

"What do you mean?" asked Peter. 

"Peter, you're not getting enough food. You come here every day hungry. Three, four months ago you were the brightest kid I'd ever laid eyes on, and now look at you...you look sad, Peter. What has happened in these couple of months?"