〖 chapter thirteen ⋆ soaring,
flying 〗

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The boy stood in front of his mirror. It was fogged up from the shower and he took his hand to swipe away a clear path for him to look at himself through, seeing his eyes – lost, dead. He looked tired, and he was. He needed to sleep but he had to do so much before he'd be able to unwind.

He looked at the door, glancing over with the knowledge that his parents' room was just so close out there. They might even be able to hear him. And he remembered the words of his father, what a disgrace he would be if he knew – what a disappointment, a sinner.

But it was who he was. He would be the sinner, the disappointment – he wanted to be that. He wanted to have the freedom to be that, but he was bound with the curse of desperately pretending to be the Golden Boy. Their perfect trophy to show off with the perfect life that they led them towards. They could take all the credit.

No, he couldn't. Not tonight. He was lone tonight, terribly but lovingly alone. He had no one to control him, to watch over and make sure he played his role perfectly, almost as if it were him. There was no one he had to pretend for, he could try to be himself that night. He could try to loosen the mask, let himself breath, because he needed it.

"I'm okay," he whispered to himself, an obvious lie. A white lie told with a sincere-looking smile that made other people believer that he was. "I'm me, and I can be me."

He wanted to soar. He wanted to fly and feel the wind in his face, a rushing excitement that he loved more than anything. That freedom, that carelessness, no façade to uphold. Free – what a wonderful thing to dream about.

"I'm not a disappointment," he told himself in the mirror, "I'm not a disgrace. I am me."

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The day passed with no excitement. Everything happened as it usually did and he smiled and laughed, he never looked at Peter even though the boy sent him texts throughout the day which he responded to. He still wasn't talking to his father, which caused for some very awkward dinners, and his mother and sister still didn't know what they were arguing about – what was so bad that they couldn't even look at each other. He was still so disgusted by what his father had said and his dad was still appalled that his own son would disagree with him.

It was because of Peter. Peter, the precious boy who he really liked – who was so patient and kind with him, who understood and never pushed him into anything he didn't want. He was wonderful, truly wonderful, and he was lucky to have the boy. He'd be lucky for every day that Peter could put up with him until eventually it all became too much and he had to leave. It was okay, he accepted long ago that this would happen.

Flash and Maddie broke up again but they were already betting when the two would get back together. They always did this because even though Maddie would yell at him and he would call her a bitch, they always found their way back to one another. It's been happening for so long that they all considered it normal. He gave it two weeks before one of them came crawling back to the other.

Tatiana had work and she was still trying to convince him to join the musical no matter how many times he placed his foot down. It wasn't going to happen, like his father said. He'd never do it even though it sounded wonderful, maybe he'd even be good at it. But that thought was for another time, for when he was old and greying and all he had time for was looking past on regrets from his life.

Clayton was still the best person in the world. A great friend who placed his around him and threw a fry at Chuck when the guy got too close for comfort with his comments.

A regular day.

And to make matters even better, Peter was coming over after school for tutoring. He drove Laurel home, the girl complaining about her algebra class and how the teacher wasn't competent enough to teach.

"Seriously, Garrett. We walk into class and she's already talking like we're supposed to be experts on the material," she ranted, "Like we went to schooling with her and studied it all night long. God she's the worst!"

"That's just how she's always been," he said to her, though it didn't ease her, "But Putland – the Pre-Calc teacher next year – is great."

Laurel just gave a huff in response.

When they got home, both of them practically ran to their rooms. And, when he closed the door, turning around to get a good look of his room, there was Peter already sitting on his bed. "How the hell did you get here before me?" he asked, dropping his bag and going over to his boyfriend, greeting him with a kiss.

Peter smiled and shrugging, "I swung here. Really."

"Which explains why you've never had any trouble with the fire escape," he hummed, pulling the boy into another kiss. It had been too long since the last time they'd been alone and so much had happened – he needed these kisses. "How was your day?"

"The usual," Peter shrugged, "Senora Wilkins still doesn't like me."
He frowned his boyfriend, taking a seat on the bed beside him. "Why's that? I mean, aren't you her best student? Her prized possession."

He added the last part teasingly, an easy smile on his lips but it still stung. He was the prized possession; he was the trophy – he didn't want to be the trophy.

"Yeah, I am, but I never really do any of my assignments. Like, I mean to everything but I get back from patrolling so late and I don't have time. It's not like I need to do them to learn the language, I'm already good, so I work on Physics and everything. So, she doesn't like me."

Not being to help himself, he laughed at his boyfriend. A good natured laugh that overtook him as he shut his eyes, letting his head fly back. He couldn't see the way Peter gave him such a fond look, he didn't know that this was Peter's favorite thing to see. His boyfriend, forgetting everything around him and having fun; being himself. Letting go.

"You're a mess, Pete," he said affectionately and Peter smiled at him, pulling him in for a short kiss that made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

"Yeah," the boy agreed.

Some time passed as they held each other, lying back down on the bed, and he smiled so much that his cheeks were beginning to hurt as they always did when he spent time with Peter. God, he loved these moments so much.

"So how often do you go patrolling?" he asked, holding up Peter's hand and running his fingers across it.

"Every day basically," Peter shrugged, "I don't like taking days off."

He nodded. He could understand that, in a way. Never taking a day off from being the Golden Boy – the perfect son his parents loved and adored. He never took days off from wearing the mask even if he was just around the house. There was always someone who was there, watching him and waiting for him to crack. He never did.

"And Ned helps you?" he asked another question, endlessly curious.

"He calls himself my guy in the chair, which he definitely is," Peter answered, "But he doesn't always help me. It's just on bigger projects where I need someone to hack into city lights or something. But I'm never alone."

"What? You hear voices or something?" he teased, pressing a kiss to Peter's cheek.

The Parker boy rolled his eyes, "Shut up. I hear a voice, an AI that Mr. Stark built into the suit. Her name's Karen and she's nice."

"She's an AI, how can you tell if she's nice? She doesn't even have emotions."

"Yeah...but she is. Like, they have personalities. I don't know, it's just how Mr. Stark programmed them. Jarvis and Friday are really snarky but Karen's helpful. Almost, motherly," Peter explained and he nodded.

He opened his mouth to say something else when his door burst open. Both him and Peter scrambled to get up and he turned to see Clayton standing there, just as shocked as them. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he was sure that everyone in the house could hear it. "Clayton! It's not what it looks like!" he exclaimed as Peter was staring at him.

"Really? Everyone in the movies always says that and it's always exactly what it looks like," Clayton retorted, looking between his friend and Peter, "Oh my God..."

"I'm just – I'm gonna go," Peter stuttered, going to the window and leaving through the fire escape leaving him alone with Clayton.

He rushed to close the door, locking this time, and he turned back to his friend. In a low voice, he said, "You can't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what? That you're fucking Peter Parker?" Clayton asked in the same low voice.

"I'm not – we're not. We haven't said sex," he scrambled, heart still beating so loudly.

"So you're just kissing him and lying on your bed with him?" Clayton demanded.

He looked about, wanting the walls to swallow him whole but they didn't. He couldn't flee, he was stuck. He was always stuck.

"We're – we're dating, Clayton," he admitted, coming clean to someone for the first time. And God, did it feel freeing. Terrifying but he didn't have a choice, so he let himself feel as if he were soaring for a moment. "I'm gay."

"I need to sit down," and Clayton did. He took a seat on the bed before staring up at Garrett – the free boy, "You're – oh my God. And all this time I've been trying to get you with girls and you never said anything and I just assumed – oh my God."

"I haven't told anyone," Garrett tried to assure him, because that's what he always did, "No one knows. Well, you know now and it's pretty obvious that Peter knows, but you – you get what I'm trying to say."

"Yeah. I do. Oh my God, how long?" Clayton's eyes were still wide in shock.

"Since summer," he told his friend, "We got together after Peter kept coming to Patty's. And – And we haven't told anyone because, well..."

"Because of your dad?" he guessed, looking up at Garrett who nodded, "I figured. So you haven't told anyone and you've been sneaking around."

"Pretty much," Garrett admitted, taking a seat beside his friend, "I just – it's not like I didn't want to tell you, I was just so scared and I'm still not comfortable with being gay or anything so it's....it terrifies me, you know?"

"I understand and I'm not upset because of that, I'm upset because I talk about girls all the time and I try to set you up with them and, God, I just – I should've have done that," Clayton managed.

"You didn't know, it's not your fault."

There was silence for a moment. Tense, unbearable silence. Then, Clayton asked, "So no one else knows?"

Garrett shook his head, "No."

The West boy nodded, "Cool, okay. Cool. Do you – do you think you'd ever tell anyone? Like, your parents or anybody?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, thinking back to the conversation he had with his father. The same reason why they aren't on speaking terms.

Clayton nodded. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. I'm just – I'm sorry that I barged in and everything, but I'm glad that you told me. Sorry that it wasn't really your choice and everything."

"It's okay."

And maybe it was, it felt like it anyway. It felt freeing.