𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓. Of course, he hadn't been seen in the days immediately following his uncle's passing, and no one was surprised. Everyone had been welcome to attend the funeral, and Phoebe and her father felt obligated to come, if only to pay their respects. She had half feared her father would try and get a statement or use the funeral as leverage against vigilantes, Spider-Man especially, but he did nothing of the sort, only using the death as an example, no details necessary; he had limits.

Peter Parker cried softly, but heavily, and Phoebe could hardly pay attention to anything else during the service. He would sniff and wipe his nose with the back of his hand, his leg shaking so furiously it was a wonder that he wasn't falling off. His eyes were puffy and red, and he couldn't stand upright without his knees beginning to buckle, and every time it seemed he had stopped crying, Phoebe would look over just in time to see his face contort, his resolve breaking once more and tears beginning to flow.

His aunt fared no better, but she put on a brave face that made her wonder just how much the woman had been through in her life to be able to even try and crack a smile and a laugh for the benefit of all those who were there to support her, not the other way around; still, in the short time Phoebe was aware of her, she had instantly gained all her respect.

After the service, people went to give their condolences and pay their respects, and Jameson wanted to do so as well, looking for Peter; while he hadn't paid the boy much mind after their brief encounter, to which he was unable to so much as remember his name, he felt it was only appropriate to offer whatever words he could, though he didn't know what help it could be.

Phoebe didn't know either, as she had never been in this situation, and she hardly had any connection with Peter to begin with. Still, he had kept notes for her the whole time she had been gone, the least she could do was show some form of sympathy for a terrible time in his life.

When she finally caught sight of him amongst the shades of black, her father having already found May Parker, patiently waiting for his chance to speak, she found Peter Parker accepting a rather uncomfortable, but well-meaning hug from Flash, the boys taking an involuntary step back as soon as they pulled away, though Peter looked ready to accept another at any moment, leaning in briefly before remembering himself.

"I'm really sorry, Parker," she heard Flash murmur, and she wished she could tune out of the conversation, feeling dirty for listening in, "I'm sure Spider-Man is sorry too."

"Yeah," Peter scoffed, his tone bitter, "I know he is. I don't know why he bothers."

Flash frowned, and Phoebe felt her heart stop, fearful he would make a scene, but he seemed to think before speaking, something he never seemed to do in class. "Spider-Man is still a dude, Parker, he makes mistakes. I mean, don't get me wrong, he should've gotten the asshole that did this, but he's just trying to help."

Peter seemed rather taken aback by this, and he seemed ready to disagree, but in the end he just sighed, nodding minutely as he seemed to crumble under the weight of his own thoughts, and Flash just stood there, hands in his expensive dress pockets, looking around for someone to relieve him of the situation.

Phoebe didn't realize she was making her way over towards them until she was standing right in front of the two freshman who were blinking at her with wide eyes. Flash's gaze darted between the two of them, as if making sure that Phoebe was indeed there for Peter, but considering the circumstances, it would make sense for the question to be rhetorical.

It was then that Phoebe realized she had absolutely no plan.

"Hi, Peter," she began, because she had never been taught how to effectively comfort someone and she didn't know him well enough to even speak to him in a regular situation.

It was only when Flash started inching away that she realized she was now just staring at Peter, not even registering the rawness of his eyes or the way parts of his hair fell into his face, clumped together by gel that had long since been disrupted by the hands that were trying to find a place to rest comfortably, his shoulders hunched over as he waited for her to continue, having already mumbled his greeting in response.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, as it seemed that she could only formulate sentences of two words at a time, and could only watch as Peter tried and failed to smile, mumbling incoherently and shrugging his shoulders, clearly too tired to give some semblance of polite response, which no one could hold against him.

Taking a deep breath, reminding herself that not knowing never stopped her before, she tried again, acutely aware of Flash continuing his awkward dance away from them. "I'm really sorry about your uncle, I lost my mother, but I can't imagine what it would be like to lose my uncle."

She instantly regretted her words, fearing that Peter would think she was trying to rub it in that she still had an uncle, at least as far as he knew, but while she felt the intense stab of panic that came with any hasty realization, the only reaction Peter gave was the beginnings of a mumbled dismissal of apologies and acceptance of condolences, only to trail off as he actually registered her words.

"Your mom died too?" he asked, his watery brown eyes widening in surprise, his tone more curious than it had any right to be considering the circumstances, and before Phoebe could completely allow herself to react, he continued on to rub salt in a wound he unwittingly created, "My mom and dad died in a plane crash, so Uncle Ben and Aunt May took care of me. Now it's just May."

Then Phoebe watched as Peter's already watery eyes began to fill with new tears, his shoulders jerking forward as he began to crumble under the weight of thoughts that Phoebe couldn't hear, one hand coming up to cover his eyes while his free arm wrapped around himself, grasping the fabric of his shirt under his jacket, and she could only watch as his lower lip trembled and jaw clenched, and it took her a moment before she could actually catch what he was mumbling to himself as he rubbed his already raw eyes.

"Stop crying, Peter, so stupid," he hissed to himself, muffled by clenched teeth and a lack of interest to let anyone hear him, and while Phoebe didn't know how to comfort, she was well-versed in the art of repetition, and her father had given her enough to work with.

"There's nothing wrong with crying," she said, trying to sound as supportive as possible, "It's a healthy thing and, you know, you're supposed to do it..."

She was starting to feel like talking to Peter was a bad idea, but it was too late now, and all she could do was watch as the boy cried harder, still clenching his jaw in a futile attempt to muffle the whimpers and shaky gasps that slipped past his lips, tears freely flowing past the fingers hiding his eyes, trailing down his painfully red cheeks, his body trembling.

Reaching out, she placed a hand on his shoulder, wondering if this was how Flash had felt when he was with the boy, wanting to provide comfort but not knowing how, instead just doing whatever came to mind, hoping that it didn't come off that Peter was a burden or making anyone uncomfortable. Of course, since it was only a hand, it didn't do much, though Peter began to cry harder, his shoulders jerking forward once more and his sobs much harder to conceal, and Phoebe realized she was going to need some help.

Looking around, she searched for her father, hoping that she didn't look as panicked as she felt, though when she finally caught sight of him, standing next to Peter's aunt, still trying to put on the brave face for everyone around, looking at her nephew with a pained smile, her lower lip beginning to tremble; Phoebe felt the panic rise in her chest, and she tried to catch her father's eye without moving.

When she finally did, he gave her a supportive smile, nodding slightly before raising his arms, miming a hug, and she nodded, trying to undo the furrow in her brow as she turned back to look at Peter, her hand still on his shoulder.

Moving forward, she took two steps until she was sufficiently close enough, the hand already on his shoulder moving down towards his back, her other arm coming up and wrapping around his left side, and she pulled him into a rather uncomfortable hug, his arm still wrapped around himself, a makeshift barrier between the two of them.

She didn't have more than a moment to think over that, however, as she soon found a pair of arms wrapped around her, as well a wet feeling on her shoulder as Peter accepted the hug, and she was surprised by how tightly he held her; he didn't seem that strong, what with his size, but she was genuinely afraid of having to tell him to loosen his grip if it became too hard to breathe; the last thing she wanted to say to a grieving person was to contain their expression of grief, especially in something as commonplace as a hug.

His crying had already been rather loud, but right next to her ear, it was impossible for her to focus on anything, rendering her void of even thoughts, the entirety of herself and the world around her nothing more than the sounds of Peter Parker crying into her shoulder because of something she could have stopped.

Spider-Man wasn't to blame. She was.

That was the only thought that slipped past the sounds of crying, and it stuck to her for the rest of the day. No matter what happened, it was a constant whisper, a reminder with no reprieve, plaguing her as she went about her existence.

There when Peter finally pulled away, wiping at his eyes as he mumbled his apologies and thank you's. There when his aunt and her father approached them, Phoebe finding just enough words to give her condolences to the woman as well, receiving a grateful smile in return that was losing light as the seconds wore on. There when they finally left, heading back home, her father putting on The Beatles to fill the silence, just as he had done when he mourned his wife.

It was there when she went to sleep, foregoing her rounds despite the thought, too drained to think straight, let alone be focused while on patrol, and it kept her tossing and turning, wondering why she hadn't just gone out to relieve herself of the guilt in the first place.

When she finally fell asleep, exhaustion overtaking her, far too close to sunrise to give her any amount of sufficient rest, she realized why.

She didn't want to have to face the problem she had created.

º º º

"It isn't your fault, you know."

It was a week later and the tiptoeing around Peter finally began to die down. Of course, it was hard when the boy kept crying in the middle of class, either asking to be excused with a lump in his throat, or simply sticking it out and continuing to finish his exam while sniffling, everyone in the room trying not to turn around and stare.

Peter had a rather good track record in terms of attendance, all things considered, and people would comment amongst each other that he was dealing with the loss rather well, considering, though they were always careful to make sure that he didn't hear them; if only they, Phoebe included, knew.

But while the boy had a good attendance record considering, that didn't mean he didn't leave school early, show up late, or not show up entirely, and while she only ever saw him during second period, Phoebe was well aware of the latter two situations whenever they presented themselves.

No one offered to take Peter's notes—after all, no one ever took notes for anyone else, always just lending them or letting them figure them out themselves—but she couldn't help but think of what he had done for her when she was forced to stay home, unable to keep up with what was happening in class, and with finals drawing ever closer and teachers scrambling to meet quotas and deadlines, she knew that it was a bad time to miss school.

As if that would have stopped him from feeling any worse than he already did.

So, despite not understanding the lessons half the time and knowing they probably weren't as helpful as they could have been, she took two sets of notes. Sometimes she would just take her notes then spend break and lunch copying them down, ignoring Gabriel's comments that, while it was really nice what she was doing, she shouldn't do it out of guilt; she had to do this, guilt just kept her motivated.

Then, before she headed out for the day, she would wander into the freshman hallway and try to find someone who could deliver her notes to Peter. She first went to her desk partner Cindy—Peter was now devoid of a table partner with Cin having been abruptly pulled out of school, and no one else was inclined to switch—but the girl was nowhere to be seen, so she went to find Flash who took them without much fuss, catching her before she went.

"Next time just give them to him," he said, motioning towards a boy who was standing by his locker, looking rather lost as he tried to wade through the crowd, "He's Parker's best friend. I went to bring him notes once, but he was already there so I just give them to him."

Phoebe raised her eyebrows at that, trying not to seem too surprised. "You give him notes too? For APES?"

"No, for other classes," Flash mumbled, glancing around to make sure no one was listening, "And don't tell anyone I do, okay? I don't like Parker or anything, we're not friends, but I feel bad for him. Besides, I'm second in class because of him, and I don't want to be first just 'cause he's not doing the work, that's lame."

Phoebe nodded, not sure how to respond to the boy whom, up until this point, she had never had a single conversation with, and she merely smiled before turning around and heading out of the school, hoping that Peter would get his notes fine.

So, like clockwork, whenever Peter didn't show up, she would make sure she had a set of notes to give to his best friend before he headed directly to Peter's house, or first to one of his various club meetings.

"My name's Ned," he had introduced when Phoebe first called after him, the boy not turning around when he heard her calls, surprised that anyone would want to talk to him to begin with, "Thanks for taking his notes. He said to say thanks, though he doesn't know it's you since you didn't write your name. Do you want me to tell him? Flash told me not to tell him."

Phoebe thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, don't. Maybe you should tell him about Flash, though, since they don't get along."

Ned smiled. "Don't worry, I did. Peter and I still don't know how to feel about it, but, I mean, it's nice of him, especially since we don't have the exact same schedule. What's your name?"

Phoebe narrowed her eyes, forcing herself to smile so as not to scare him. "If I tell you, you'll tell him. I have to go, thanks for doing this, Ned."

It didn't take long for him to learn her name, though, when he told her he knew, he quickly promised not to tell Peter, seeming rather afraid when she took a step towards him with the intention of insisting he not tell, and she felt rather proud of herself, though she didn't quite like the fear that flashed over his features when she did.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," she had said, unable to help herself, and Ned just smiled; hopefully they were on good terms.

Considering that he still took notes from her whenever she went to give them to him, there didn't seem to be an issue. Of course, on the days when Peter appeared after their class, she could have simply given them to him, but she didn't want him to think too far into it, so she continued to slip them to Ned.

She, at least, would know she was repaying him. She still wasn't too interested on being his friend, and she didn't want to give him the wrong impression; she was just paying back what she needed to, whether he knew the reasons or not.

But, of course, the universe needed her to pay for more than just what Peter had done for her; it needed her to pay what she had done to him. So, when she went to go find Ned to give Peter the set of notes that he would need for the weekend, he wasn't there.

"He's sick," Flash explained, walking towards her, "He's wasn't here yesterday either, but since Parker was here, you didn't know. You're still giving him notes?"

Phoebe nodded, shrugging at the freshman, beginning to walk with him. "I will until it feels right to stop. Aren't you?"

Flash sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ned's a snitch. Parker came up to me and thanked me for the notes. I mean, can you believe that?"

Phoebe raised her eyebrows as they continued towards the doors of the school, Gabriel giving her a look as she passed him. "Isn't that a good thing? I mean, he appreciated what you did, that's really nice of him. And it was really nice of you."

"Well, yeah, but I don't want him to think I like him or whatever," Flash grumbled, and Phoebe raised her eyebrows again, in shock rather than confusion, and Flash quickly continued.

"I don't want him to think this means we're gonna be cool or whatever, I don't wanna be friends with him, he's so annoying and naturally smart, he'll just think I'm stupid, but he won't tell me because he's nice or whatever," he explained, and Phoebe worked hard to try and understand.

"Besides, he's poor, my dad would lose it if he found out," he continued, and Phoebe opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand, "Look, I'm just saying, okay, like, I get that poor people can't help that they're poor, my family just doesn't jive with that okay? And, like, Parker's got that soft thing going on, my dad might think he's gay, then he'll think I'm gay, and, like, I'm not gay."

Phoebe blinked. "I have issue with a lot of things you just said, Flash."

The boy groaned, throwing up his arms. "Aren't you J. Jonah Jameson's niece, I thought you'd get what I'm trying to say!"

His outburst caught her off guard, and she could only watch as he began to stalk off, his shoulders up to his ears; besides his comments, he had been generally calm up until that point, the anger wasn't anything she could have expected.

Then she thought over his words, trying to understand why he would think that she would be fine with anything he had said, what with him knowing who her father—or uncle, as far as he knew—was. But then she thought of one of the stories that he had covered throughout the entire situation which spanned over two weeks, talking about how hate was spread and while actions could never be excused, they needed to find the root of the problem before things could change.

"Flash," she called, chasing after him as he made his way towards the double doors, and she didn't know what to say—she didn't even know what he wanted her to understand—but she had a feeling he wasn't being as truthful as he could be, "Hold on!"

The boy rounded on her, and as she skidded to a stop, she had a brief thought of how his temper seemed to rival that of her father's, though he clearly didn't know how to handle it the way he could. Still, he was waiting for her to speak, which was a win in her book.

"It-It's not...bad. You know, to be gay," she began lamely, just looking at him, "Or, you know, not straight."

The boy blinked at her. "Well, duh. Look, I'm not homophobic, or whatever, I don't care what anyone else does, who cares, you know? I just, you know, I'm not gay."

He seemed to shudder then, and before Phoebe opened her mouth to shout at him, she realized that he hadn't done it for her. He didn't look back at her to see her reaction or seem to react to his actions at all. If anything, he was thinking of something else, his hands balling into fists before being shoved into his pockets, shoulders rising to his ears as he hunched over, eyes screwing shut for the briefest of moments.

"Okay," she said carefully, "But that doesn't have anything to do with Peter. And you don't have to be his friend, though I don't think he would think anything if you weren't as smart as him. I'm not either, but he's nice to me. And I don't think it's good of you to just base people's worth on their financial status. I mean, Flash, his uncle just died, they lost a source of income."

"I know that!" he snapped, then seemed to catch himself, "Sorry. Look, I'm not saying he's like worthless 'cause he doesn't have money, I'm just saying that, you know...And, look, Parker's always been better than me, you don't get it, I can't be his friend."

Phoebe pursed her lips. "I'm trying really hard to understand, Flash, but you're not making much sense. You don't think Peter's worthless because you have more money, but you said you can't be his friend because of it. And you think he's better than you in school, but you think you're better than him because of your money?"

Flash sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, it's not—I mean, yeah, but it's—Look, I can't explain it, okay, but I'm not, like, a bad person, I just—I just don't like him, okay!"

Phoebe nodded. "I don't like him either."

Now it was Flash's turn to be confused. "What? But you're, you know, writing him notes and stuff."

She shrugged. "You did too, and you just told me you don't like him. And that you're not gay."

He seemed put off by her statement, but didn't retaliate, so she continued. "I'm not saying I dislike him, or however you feel about him. But I'm not interested in being his friend. It's nothing against him, he's nice, he's a fine person, I just don't want to be his friend, and that's okay. It's okay to not like people, no one likes everyone. But you don't have to be an asshole about it."

Flash sighed. "Look, I know that—"

"Do you?" she interrupted, tilting her head, "Because you're pretty harsh in class, Flash. I know you're worried that you're not as smart as him, but he's not making fun of you about it. He's not really saying anything about you."

"Not to my face," he countered, "But he's thinking, you know? You should hear what my parents say about everyone, about me, you can't just think that everyone just minds their own business, you know, you gotta make sure people know you're better so they can't think that they're better than you, because they're not. You know?"

Phoebe didn't know. She could feel her head starting to hurt as she tried to piece together everything Flash was saying, but she kept falling short. Whatever he was trying to get her to understand wasn't making much sense in her mind, but it didn't seem to be making much sense to him either, not enough that he could explain.

"I don't have a problem with gay people or poor people," the boy whispered, looking down towards the loading zone, catching sight of a nice car with a man standing outside, "I'm just...I'm just not..."

"I don't think you're a bad person, Flash," Phoebe started, hoping he wouldn't lash out, "But I don't think you're very nice either. I think you just need to unlearn some things."

The boy sighed, rubbing his temples. "Great. And here I thought my problem was I was too stupid to learn things."

As she watched him go, she realized that this was the first time he had said something self-deprecating. He had said Peter would've thought he was dumb, but he hadn't gone out of his way to state he was anything other than smart until that very moment. Everything had been about other people until that moment.

Phoebe didn't know if she wanted to get involved with Flash Thompson—he had far too many layers and she didn't have that kind of time or energy—but she had to admit that this was something she could talk to her father about; whatever was going on with him was something she was glad she didn't experience herself.

As she made her down the stairs, she realized that she still had Peter's notes in her backpack with no way to get them to him.

She sighed, reaching into her pocket for her phone, worrying on her bottom lip. Talking to Flash had already taken out the time she needed to get to her father's office, and she had plans to listen to a podcast with Sonny while they worked.

But then the whisper of guilt rose to the surface, and she was calling Gabriel before she even had time to fight it back down.

"Can you send me Peter Parker's address from the school's files, I'm gonna bring him his notes," she said, in lieu of a greeting, pointedly ignoring the familiar sigh that coupled anything having to do with her notes for Peter Parker.

"I've got no issue doing this for you, boss, you know I don't," the boy began, already getting to work, "But...look, you know what I'm gonna say."

Phoebe rolled her eyes, already making her way to the train station. "Say it anyways so you can get it out of your system, I know it makes you feel better."

"Okay, no need for that, I'm doing you the favor, aren't I? I could get arrested for this," he scoffed, though, after a few moments, he added, "It isn't your fault, you know."

Phoebe sighed, because she had heard it enough times that it was wonder why the guilt still ate at her, but the fact of the matter was that Gabriel didn't have the same level of responsibility she had to make sure that any and all those who tried for the night life understood exactly what it meant when they decided to use their abilities in this way.

She had been given multiple opportunities to actively accomplish the goal she set out to complete, but pushed it aside for a later date until it was too late and someone had died. Even now she still hadn't gone out to look for him, and she had heard rumors that the robber who had killed his uncle was asking for more secure protection, afraid that Spider-Man was going to go after him and get revenge.

If he did, she wondered if she would even do anything about it.

So while Gabriel worked hard nearly every day to remind her that what had happened wasn't her fault, she couldn't help but feel as though she wasn't going to be rid of the guilt until she paid her dues; what they were, she didn't know.

"You already under?" Gabriel asked, and she hummed by way of confirmation, thanking him for what he did to her phone, "I gotta reach you at all times, boss, but it was so hard to add those things in the subway systems, I hate those tunnels so much, they're so gross. But at least I'll have power at all times."

Phoebe snorted. "It's so sad, you're like a cell phone, you're useless without signal and you freak out for no reason."

She laughed as Gabriel's spluttering filled her ears, her phone buzzing with a text message with Peter's address and directions, as well as a reminder that it was nice what she was doing, but she shouldn't do it out of guilt for something that wasn't her fault, but she was going to focus on what she needed at the moment, not what she needed overall.

"Thank you," she called, trying to break through his babbling, "I gotta call dad and let him know I'm not coming in so he doesn't, you know, die."

"Fine," the boy huffed, though he didn't sound as put out as he could have been, "Let's hope he didn't already send the fuzz after you. That would suck, but you're white, so you'll live, at least."

Phoebe snickered along with Gabriel before hanging up the call, immediately transferring to her father as she looked to see which train she was supposed to take, making her way towards the right platform, glad to see that she wouldn't be waiting for very long.

"Where are you?" was her father's first question, because no one ever gave regular greetings anymore, "Are you okay, did you need to talk to a teacher?"

"No, sorry," she said, her stomach turning at the panicked tone in her voice, "Sorry I didn't call you sooner, but I'm bringing Peter Parker his notes, he, um, his friend wasn't at school so I couldn't give them to him to bring over, so I'm bringing them myself."

"Who?" the man called, and she sighed, rolling her eyes; despite being editor-in-chief, he wasn't too great at remembering names.

"The freshman who brought me my notes. The one whose uncle died," she explained, trying not to laugh when she heard his groan of understanding and regret, "Yeah, so I just wanted to make sure he got them, we have a test next week and I don't want him to, you know, fail."

"You have so many tests, but it's almost finals," the man commented, mostly to himself, but, fortunately, he didn't start on a rant, "But okay, stay safe, text me when you get there and when you're leaving, I might just check in to see where your phone is, so keep it on. Do you have your pepper spray?"

"Yeah, dad," she drawled, moving to step onto the train that had appeared while she was explaining, "And don't worry, I'll be fine, it won't take long, I'm not gonna talk to him or anything. We're not friends, I just, you know, want to help him out."

"That's kind of you," the man hummed, and she smiled proudly to herself, though he couldn't see her preening, "Call me if you need to be picked up or if you feel uncomfortable or anything. I love you."

"Love you too," she replied, hanging up and pocketing her phone shortly after.

She sighed as she settled into the seat she had managed to snag as everyone filed in, surprised that she had been able to catch one at all. She kept a look out for anyone who was standing and might need the seat more than she did, but no one was there, so she could relax for the time being.

As much as she could relax with the guilt still settled in the back of her mind.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 07.15.17 ; 09.07.19 )

Sorry it's been a hot second, this chapter has literally been ready to go for over a month but college has been rough but we're gonna get back into the groove, I promise.

This chapter was cut into two sections, the next one coming out tomorrow, because it was bordering on 10K words and I didn't want that at all, so as much as I hate where this ended, it has to end here and the next will be a bit shorter, but at least it cuts out an unnecessary filler chapter I was going to put, so it's a win for everyone, but I'm sorry about that, but hopefully ya'll can forgive me (I say, even though no one is reading this)

I had to rewrite part of this because the part I had written got deleted because I wrote it but Wattpad couldn't save it, then my computer died and when I plugged it back in, the incognito tab was gone, as it should be, and the words I had written were gone and it was really hard to remember what I had written, and the rewrite doesn't come close to how good the original one was, but it's fine, I say, suffering.

Also, I really hope ya'll can read between the lines even just enough to understand Flash's scene, because I really don't want to have to fight anyone today about them hating Flash or whatever, because we don't subscribe to that nonsense in this house.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!