〖 chapter ten ⋆ stand and watch 〗

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Time waits for no man – and time was running out. The sand in the hourglass was almost done draining and there was no time to think or take a moment; there was only time to get what needed to be done complete and not think, never think. There was no time to ponder where or not he really wanted this, wanted anything, there was only time to do; only time to regret it later when the hourglass would be tipped over and there would be more time to drain and think.

But not now. He had no time to think about how he didn't want this, he didn't want anything, and how he wanted everything to stop. The deadline was coming up and his dad was still hounding him and asking about it every time they saw each other and he couldn't look him in the eyes. His dad was smile or look disappointed, tell him exactly how much time was left, and tell him to get on it. As if his life depended on it, as if when he ran out of time everything would be over – game over. Maybe for his dad, but not for him, maybe it would be a blessing. His happy ever after, knowing that he wouldn't have to worry anymore.

He would, though. That was the thing; there was no escape. Time would still come for him and his dad would still pressure him and there was no escaping because early access deadlines were ending soon but not actual applications. God, he hated the cruelty of time. It always got to him.

A hand reached for him from across the table. He looked up to see the concerned look of his friend, eyes wandering his face before asking, "You good?"

He nodded. It wasn't believable, he knew that. "Yeah," he said, continuing with the lie (as if he was ever okay), "It's just that early access for Columbia is ending soon and my dad's just been on my ass about it lately."

Clayton winced and leaned back against the booth, "Sorry to hear that, man. That's exactly why I'm not telling my parents where I'm applying until I get into one of them."

"Wish I could do that," he joked, a small grin forming on his face that he didn't mean. It helped keep up the illusion, he knew that, but he was hating it more now than ever before, "But you know how my dad's been wanting me to go there since forever. Can't really hide anything from him."

The West boy dipped a fry into his ranch, "You tell him about the other schools you applying to?"

Shaking his head, he almost dipped a fry, "Nah. He doesn't even know that I'm applying to other schools at all, thinks that Columbia is it."

"So he doesn't want you to have a backup plan just in case you don't get in?" Clayton frowned.

"Yep. Well, he thinks that there's no way that I'll be rejected, so why apply to other schools that I'm never gonna go there anyway?" he asked rhetorically and a bit bitterly, "Whatever, it doesn't really matter."

"Do you not wanna go to Columbia?" his friend asked carefully, "I mean, you always say that your dad's had this plan – not that you've had this plan. That your dad doesn't want you to apply because Columbia all the way and everything. You don't have to tell me either if, you know, you don't wanna talk about it."

He froze for a bit. Peter knew, he told him everything and Clayton was his best friend, but this? What if Clayton told his dad the truth? What if his dad knows and is so disappointed in him? He can't have that. But Clayton already knows – he was too obvious. God, he was too obvious but he...he didn't care.

He was just so tired. Of everything. Tired of hiding, tired of wearing this mask, tired of keeping Peter this dirty little secret. He wanted to let go so badly, wanted to tell Clayton everything – tell everyone everything – tell his dad the truth and his parents. And...and he wanted so much, but he wouldn't. He couldn't.

His parents would be so disappointed, their vision ruined. Maybe they wouldn't even accept him, maybe Laurel wouldn't accept him. Maybe nobody would accept him – not even his friends. He could lose everything, he could lose soccer and his friends and only have Peter. But what if Peter left too? He knew the boy wanted to, even if he would never admit aloud or to him.

So no. He couldn't tell Clayton everything, but maybe he could tell Clayton this. This one thing with explicit instructions to never tell anyone – especially his parents. No one could know, but he was so tired. He wanted it all to end. He did.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I don't wanna go to Columbia – I never did. I mean, I guess I did when I was younger and didn't know anything about college or what it meant but...but now, and when I realized everything, I didn't want that but it's too late. My dad has his heart set on me going there, it's a whole plan."

Clayton frowned, "He planned your whole life out?"

"Basically, yeah," he nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he took a swing of his drink.

"Damn, that's – that's not good. Not normal. I mean, it's like, uh, you know A Cinderella Story? The one with Hillary Duff and Chad Michael Murry and everything?" he nodded, "It's like the dad wanting his Chad to play football and take over the family business while wanted to go to Princeton. Are you a Princeton Boy, Garrett?"

He rolled his eyes, though a grin was pulling at his lips, as he lightly kicked his friend under the table. "Shut up," Clayton laughed at him, "I am not a Princeton Boy. I don't know anything about Princeton, to begin with."

Clayton rolled his eyes at his friend, "That's not the point. I don't know anything about Princeton either but that doesn't mean you're not one. You don't wanna play football and work at that carwash place or whatever; you wanna...well, I don't know, but I know you wanna do something else."

He thought about it for a moment – what did he want to do? He hadn't thought about it much, it never mattered. Because of it, he frowned. He didn't even consider his future now because everything was decided for it, he was letting it happen, not thinking about. Not deciding for himself.

"I don't know," he finally choked out, eyes meeting Clayton's across the table.

"That's okay," Clayton assured him, "I mean – I don't really know either. My Psych class is pretty cool so maybe I'll take some more in college, but hey – it's okay. A lot of people go into college undecided."

He nodded, a bit more assured. "Yeah...yeah," he said.

"Flash said he wants to go into psychology as well – wants to be a therapist. I don't know, though, because he changed his answer when Maddie came around. Said he wanted to race cars and all that shit," Clayton said, taking a sip of his drink, "I don't know. The guy's confusing. Drops football and doesn't tell anyone why and joins Decathlon even though his freshman year all he did was tear into it."

He shrugged, biting into another fry, "Wasn't he also failing some of his classes freshman year? McNamara was such a bitch, remember? Would always call him and a few others out for not understanding Biology and everything."

"Right, yeah. He might've gone into Decathlon to up his grades – more study time and everything," Clayton nodded along, "Whatever. He never hangs around any of them, though."

"He used to hang around Betty. You know, when Liz was still here and everything – and the two of them were friends," he added.

"And he's more aggressive towards them when Maddie's around. I don't know, she can be a bitch sometimes and everything," Clayton said, "Have you noticed that?"

Giving some thought to it, released that he had. Flash was different around her; more looking over at her to see if she approved, changing things about himself and closing up about the things he loved to chatter on about whenever she was gone. It was...strange. It wasn't normal.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I guess I have. But I never really thought about it."

Clayton shrugged, "Feel bad for the kid. Everyone on the team always reminds him that he's just the replacement – that has to suck. I mean, yeah, he's in their faces and kinda bullies that Parker kid...but damn. Imagine that – being told that you're replaceable. Damn."

He nodded along. He hated thinking about Peter and how his own friend was terrible towards him. He hated how Flash always went against him and Ned. He hated everything – and yet he did nothing. He stood and watched; that's what he did.

"Yeah, that would suck," he agreed, taking a sip of his drink and looking out the window for a second.

"And I feel like it's every time I walk into the library after school. You know how mom gets when I leave after school only to come back for soccer games, yeah?" he nodded. Clayton's move didn't like him wasting money on the subway home only to take it again an hour or two later. So, he stayed at the school until after the game. His parents were always too busy. "Yeah. Anyway, I sometimes go to the library instead of practicing and everything and Decathlon is always practicing. He says one remark – just one, the only one I hear during their whole meeting – and Michelle Jones or one of the twins always says that to him. He quiets up immediately. I just – I feel bad for the guy."

He frowned. He didn't know that. "Just one remark?"

"Yeah. Flash says one thing – and sometimes it isn't even something against Parker or anyone else – it's just like 'really? this' or something – and someone tells him to shut up. It's not always like 'you're replacable so we can get rid of you whenever – but there's always something like 'shut up' or 'it's not like you'll put any of this into practice, so why does it matter?' They're fucking cruel."

"And yet they get onto for saying shit," he scoffed. Maybe it wasn't that bad, maybe Clayton was exaggerating, but he didn't question it because this was his friend and Flash was too.

He took out his phone and cursed upon seeing the time. "Shit, I gotta go, man. My parents are gonna freak that I'm late."

Clayton waved him off, "Go. I'll finish and pay – but you're totally paying me back later."

"Yeah, whatever," he playfully rolled his eyes, getting out of the booth and leaving the fast food place, looking around to make sure he knew how to get to the subway station.

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He made it home in record time but that didn't mean he made it before curfew. His saving grace was the fact that his parents were still out with Laurel after going to see a play at one of the local theatres. Bouncing up the stairs, he went to his room and changed into his pajamas so it looked like he had been home longer than he really had.

Ruffling his hair, he stood in front of the mirror again. He saw himself, but...it wasn't. It wasn't him. But he didn't want to dwell on it for the time being, going to his bed and taking his laptop to relax with some Netflix. Only, he didn't far into the episode of the show he was currently binging on.

Frowning to himself as he heard the insistent knocking on his window, he made his way over quickly. Peter wasn't supposed to be coming over that night, or really any time that week. The both of them were too busy because he actually had to work on the application of Columbia – the one school he didn't want to go to.

But, opening the window, he saw Peter was there. His hair was a mess and he could only see the boy's face. Opening the window wider and allowing the boy an entrance, his frown deepened when the boy hesitated a moment.

"Peter? What's going on?" he asked, looking at the boy with confusion written on his face.

The boy hesitated for a moment before saying, "Just – don't freak out, okay?"

"Why would I –"

He was cut off as Peter crawled through the window wearing a suit made of spandex with a spider symbol on his chest. "You're – you're Spider-Man."

Peter nodded, "Uh, yeah – I-I am."

"Oh my God," he sat down on his bed, not letting his eyes leave his boyfriend, "I'm dating Spider-Man – what the fuck?"

There was a chuckle from Peter but it was mostly out of nervousness than anything. "Um, yeah. I guess you are."

He swallowed, "Fucking hell. Out of everyone who I'd think to be Spider-Man, you were definitely on the list."

"I can see why you say that..." Peter trailed off, "So, are you gonna freak out? Like, are you gonna yell at me for keeping this from you."

Immediately, he shook his head. "No. Why would I yell at you?" he frowned.

"Well, my Aunt May did when she found out. I was trying on a new suit that Mr. Stark made me and she walked in and yelled a lot about me having to be more careful and why I didn't tell her and just a lot more other things. I mean, I understand why and everything, but please warm me before you do so that I'm prepared and everything," Peter rambled.

The boy nodded slowly. "No. I'm not – I'm not gonna yell at your or any of that. I just, this is a lot to take in..."

"Okay," Peter nodded, "Can I seat?"

He nodded again and Peter took a seat beside him. He pursed his lips, eyes running across Peter's body because everything was shown – everything was on display basically in the skin-tight suit. And he just – he looked sinful. Absolutely sinful.

Everything's sinful.

He looked away. It was creepy to stare at him like this, even if they were dating. He had to calm down, although his brain wasn't working at all. Working on that damn application was out of the question for the night, no question. But as he tried to get his brain to work again, he had to ask – why?

He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it. He just – he didn't know. He didn't know anything and it was all confusing. So, he opened his mouth again. "Why?" he asked.

Peter frowned at him, "Why what?"

He couldn't help but groan, "Why are you telling me? This is – it's a secret, right? You put on the mask for a reason...so why are you telling me?"

The Parker boy blushed and looked down, "I was, uh, I was chasing down someone that came through your neighborhood – I caught them and everything, so don't like worry about it. But, uh, I was here and I was waiting for a stab wound to heal so I decided to come in here."

"What?" he exclaimed loudly, looking at his boyfriend in alarm, "You got stabbed? Where?"

"In my leg – but it doesn't really matter. I heal quickly, so it'll be gone in, tops, like twenty minutes or something. But Aunt May doesn't like it when I come home injured so I just...decided to come over here until it's healed and everything."

He groaned again and collapsed back onto his bed, "You're just – you're a mess."

Peter laughed again. "Yeah," he admitted, "I get that a lot."