Spider-Man: Concrete Desert

Hate the Rain

The faint sound of pitter pattering rain on the fire escape usually kept Peter up at night. The sound of larger drops of rain prompted the fifteen year old Queens boy to open the window, if only to stop the sound of the rain.

He usually like the loud sounds of the city, sirens, horns, tweakers in his building begging for cash or sex from the girls who lived down the hall. They stayed away from the Parker's apartment. Probably because they weren't interested in a teenage boy who never took his beanie of and spent all his time either in his room blasting Faber Drive and Simple Plan, or at the skatepark, fucking around on his board.

He wasn't really any good, but one day he would be. He'd master it, just like he mastered Geometry, Algebra, Chemistry, and every subject in school other than English. He was never good at English. For no good reason other than he got bored of fiction and understanding the inner most thoughts of Ray Bradbury when the man was young in the 50s.

It was tedious, even with the window open, it seemed as if the raindrops provided Peter with another problem. His headboard was next to the window.

It was nearly 6:30, time to wake up. He was never asleep when his alarm finally went off. Due to the position of his head, the window and the rain pouring through it, his hair and pillow were soaked.

Taking one look around his small, almost cramped bedroom he sighed. Not out of annoyance but out of contentment. He was fine with the mundane, poor life he lived.

He needn't worry about anything other than the rain. He had all he wanted: this tiny room for starters. Four walls, one window, and the man who lived just above him moved out, so he no longer had to listen to him either have animal sex or super expressive alone time with himself again.

On the westside of his room was the door that led to the small hallway, and his desk. The desk was in actuality a table from his former elementary school that his fifth grade teacher was throwing away, he begged her to let him take it.

It had a missing leg, to remedy that he bolted it to the wall with his Uncle Ben's help. It stood at three feet tall and had a two and a half foot, plastic drawer cart with the wheels removed under the left side of it, and his chair on the right.

His chair came from his father's office when he died. The only thing that the police didn't seize. Other than a picture of his mother and father which sat on the desk.

He sat on his twin bed, with black and red sheets and pillows. He leaned over to the window and pulled it down, and then latched it shut. He wasn't worried about anyone taking anything from his home, there really wasn't anything of monetary value in the entire apartment.

But Aunt May and Uncle Ben insist that the windows and doors are to be shut at all times. So for the most part he did as was told, except for when the rain hit his window.

Which it continued to do at this moment, he wouldn't need to deal with it much longer. He crawled out of bed and sluggishly walked to his desk and picked up his phone. A Samsung Galaxy 6, the only nice thing he owned.

Although he did ask for an IPhone, he was pleased. Mainly because he didn't expect a phone at all that passed Christmas. Even if it was a few years old and a second hand, he was indeed pleased.

He unplugged it from the charger and it lit up. He took notice of a notification from Harry, his best friend, saying that Mary Jane was single again.

Peter put his phone back on his desk and smiled awkwardly, Harry was trying too hard to get him laid, Harry seemed to be more desperate for it than Peter was. He swore that Harry would do it with himself if he knew how sex between two men would work. Which was actually something Harry once said as a joke.