eight | a day in the life

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Peter sat in the classroom, his pencil tapping to the rhythm his leg was moving

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Peter sat in the classroom, his pencil tapping to the rhythm his leg was moving. The amber eyes kept a steady eye on the clock watching as the tiny red 'second' hand moved on it. He sighed each time it created another minute, it never was enough to make the bell ring any faster.

So, he sat. Sat barely listening to his math teacher ramble on about cosine and other things in trigonometry, talking about the importance of knowing the rules and understanding the underlying facts. But did he care to remember any of it? No.

Truthfully, Peter was a genius, he had the ability to do almost anything. He was smart, Mirabelle only aided him in his effort to do so. Mirabelle wasn't a genius, everyone could tell someone else that. But, her work ethic made her seem smarter than Peter, which is why she was the one who tutored other people, not him.

Peter seemed to go downhill in school after she died, at first teachers found it normal. To loose the person that he loved most, he wasn't going to go back to normal really quickly. Obviously, he want.

But, he made it stick around for longer. It had been almost a year and his grades were still slipping, he had no will to do anything.

It seemed like the ability to do anything was harder, and when Tony thought about it, it had gotten worse with Peter taking therapy lessons. He had only slipped into the world of, I don't want to do it without her.

He didn't want to do anything without her.

Hell, just having to sit in class hurt him. He used to sit with her and they'd laugh and talk through class, but she would always teach him what they needed to know.

She wasn't there to do that for him anymore. She wasn't there to help him. She wasn't there at all. That hurt him the most.

"Peter," Peters gaze steadily changed to the face of Ned Leeds standing in front of him. Looking around the room, no one else could be seen, so obviously Peter didn't hear the one thing he was waiting for. Scrambling, he stuffed his notebook and pencils into his book bag, quickly throwing it over his shoulder.

"Were you thinking about her again," Ned looked to his best friend, a gleam of worry in his eye. He missed her too, but he wasn't letting his life fall apart. He missed his best friend, Peter wasn't the same and he didn't have Mira anymore. It wasn't the same anymore, Peter was depressed and couldn't hold plans for anything and Mira really was the glue that held together the group.

Of course, Ned would classify himself and Peter as best friends, but did it feel like they were? Not quite. Peter had changed so much, after the death of his first love he changed. Ned, sighed looking at his friend who had just dropped his head in response to his first question.

"Peter," Peter looked up, "I'm not going to continue on a conversation if it's going to be one sided, no offense but this is boring as shit."

"Sorry I bore you, Ned."

"It's not that you bore me, Pete, but you haven't talked to me at all. And I've asked you questions."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say Ned, Mira is dead and it's like everywhere I look I see her. Like look," Peter pointed out a girl with a similar color hair to her, "that girl has her same hair cut and color, but it's not her."

"Well yeah, Peter, she's dead."

"Who said I'm dead?"

✓ DEAR MIRABELLE → PETER PARKER ²Where stories live. Discover now