A little boy sat on the curb of a busy street, watching the world pass him by. He wore a red hoodie that was far too big for him, ragged jeans that had been worn too many days, and old sneakers that could fall apart at any moment. How long had he been sitting there? The little boy didn't really care.
Maybe you should scoot back, one of the voices in his head commented.
"But I like the breeze," he murmured in response, his big blue eyes following the large footsteps of a business man scurrying by.
But what if someone sees your face? the other voice chimed in. You know how people react when they see your ugly mug.
The little boy remained quiet for a moment, his eyes somehow managing to focus only on the black asphalt of the street. Maybe he should move back
He doesn't want to cause any trouble right now. He's too tired to run, anyway. He let out a soft sigh, pushing off the curb to stand on the sidewalk. In doing so, he accidentally walked straight into a man hurrying to work. The man bumped the little boy, hard in the chest, and he fell back onto his rear, the top of his hood flopping off and exposing his face. The man froze with his eyes wide before narrowing into angry slits.
"You!" he snarled, and a few more people glanced their way. The little boy trembled, scooting back on his hands and feet. "You're the brat who was causing us all that mess and stealing from the bakery and market!"
The little boy quickly jumped to his feet. "N-no, you got the wrong kid-"
A lady stepped up next to the man, glaring at the little boy. "Yeah, it is him- I'd recognize that disgusting face anywhere!"
Ouch. That one hurt.
The little boy didn't give them time to say anything else. He shot straight forward, and past the two spitting adults, and maneuvered through the snatching hands that tried to grab him on his way fleeing the scene. He ran and ran, until his lungs burned for oxygen, and he had to turn into an alleyway to hide behind some trashcans. He sat there for God knows how long, trembling and heart beating until the sky grew dark. After awhile, he couldn't handle the revolting smells emitting from the garbage cans, and crawled forward to the other side of the ally, to rest against the wall.
"What do I do?" he whispered, now trembling from the cold and not the fear that drilled in his heart.
The voices in his head practically shrugged. You could just stay here and freeze to death
Or you could find someplace to crash.
"But who will take me?" he cried, placing his hands over his face. "I can't go home. I told them I would never go back," he suddenly spat, voice growing hard. "You guys know I can't go back there."
Yeah, we know. Your mom and dad are still there.
"They aren't my mom and dad!" he snapped. "Those people are more monsters than I am."
"Why are you talkin' to yourself?" a sudden voice piped up, causing the little boy to freeze. His eyes flicked to the right, to where the light from a streetlamp lit up the sidewalk to reveal a young boy standing alone.
"Why do you care?" he retorted, pulling his knees closer to his chest and hugging them.
The young boy smiled. "Cause its silly." Before the little boy could spit anything, the other's expression grew warm. "I like silly."
He froze with his mouth slightly ajar and eyes wide in surprise. Well this is new, one of them whispered. The little boy furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the other suspiciously.
"What are you doing?" he asked cautiously. The other boy glanced down at himself, and then looked back up at the kid.
"I'm standing here. I'm waiting for my aunt to come out of the store," he answered, pointing at the building behind the little boy. He smiled, skipping forward and sitting a little ways in front of the other. "My name's Peter Parker! What's yours?"
The little boy stared at Peter, amazed at how another human being could be this nice. To him, especially. "I'm Wade," he replied quietly, staring at the boy in wonder.
Be careful, kid. You can't trust everyone, remember? They always turn
He ignored the voice, and suddenly realized that his hood was down. He must have forgotten to put it back up after the whole incident earlier. He reached up, pushing his cheeks with the palm of his hands, looking worried.
"You don't care about my face?" he asked, scared. Peter blinked, tipping his head to the side.
"What's wrong with your face?" he asked simply.
Wade sat there, slightly confused. He figured maybe Peter hadn't gotten a good look, so he leaned forward, more into the light for him to see.
"See? Everyone is always shouting bad names at me, and calling me hideous and a monster for how I look."
He waited for the boy to jump back in disgust and run away to his precious aunt or whatever
but he didn't. He just sat there, staring Wade straight into his eyes. After a moment, he smiled. It was the saddest smile Wade had ever seen. It had caught him off guard, and as he stared at that smile, he realized he didn't like it. He didn't like seeing Peter so sad. He hated it. It didn't suit the kid at all. After a moment, Peter slowly reached out and caressed Wade's face. The little boy froze, waiting for him to punch him or something like they always did
but he didn't. He simply stroked a thumb across Wade's cheek, and the little boy shut his eyes after a minute, finding the gesture soothing.
"Wade," Peter whispered, and the boy opened his eyes. "Wade, don't listen to everyone else." There was that sad smile. "Everyone else is wrong. All I see, when I look at you, is a human being. You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
What a lie.
Wade frowned. "How can you say that? I'm hideous! I hate myself! I'm ugly!"
Peter shook his head, still staring straight into his eyes. "Wade, you're only those things because they tell you those things
And you believe them. Now listen," Peter ordered, smile growing so soft and serene, Wade wanted to stare at it forever. "Have you ever seen your eyes?"
Wade sat there, blinking. "No. I hate looking at myself," he mumbled.
Peter's eyes sparkled. "Well you should do it more often, because you have the prettiest shade of blue eyes I have ever seen." He squeezed his cheek before letting his hand drop to his side. "And please promise me you won't let people's words get to you. Remember, Wade, you are the most beautiful person I've ever met."
"Peter?" a worried voice called from the sidewalk, and Wade glanced over to see a lady standing under the streetlamp, grocery bags in hands.
"I'm coming, Aunt May!" he called before quickly turning back to Wade.
"I hope I'll meet you again, Wade," he whispered, standing up. "Blue eyes," he added, grinning. "They're gorgeous." And he ran off to his aunt's side. Wade watched them leave; still sitting in the same position he was when he met Peter.
Peter. Peter Parker.
Wade smiled, feeling his heart lift from the pit of his stomach, where it'd been since the day he stepped foot outside of his house. The smile wouldn't leave his face, no matter how hard he tried. Peter's words and smile kept shoving its way back into his memory, and Wade loved it. He wanted to see Peter again. He wanted Peter to just talk to him. He didn't care whatever it was that Peter would say, Wade just wanted to hear his soothing voice, and feel his soft hand rubbing his cheek, as if to wipe invisible tears away. Wade's heart ached to see Peter again, and it wasn't even midnight, yet. He let out a blissful sigh, laying down on his side, and curling into the fetal position.