Never Again

Ch. 7

The weekend was miserable. Peter spent most of his time in his bedroom, only coming out if he was hungry which was almost never. I knew he wouldn't be able to, so I had Happy arrange May's funeral for as soon as possible. We would be having it on Tuesday evening at one of the best funeral homes in Queens. Peter had just nodded numbly when I told him, probably still in shock and denial as to what had happened.

Today was Monday and I was only up early so I could call the school and make sure I was up if Peter needed me. Besides, I hadn't been able to sleep very well at night, not knowing if Peter was asleep himself or crying silently in his room.

"Mr. Stark?" I looked up from the magazine I was glancing through to see Peter walking into the kitchen. He was still in his sweatpants and a t-shirt and his eyes were red-rimmed.

"What's up, kid?" I asked, closing my magazine. He sat at the counter and I grabbed the milk and some cereal out for him. He didn't even look at it.

"Do I have to go to school today?" he asked. I shook my head and he seemed relieved.

"No, not until you want to," I told him. He nodded and glanced at the cereal. I could tell he wasn't hungry, but he still reached for the box and milk, pouring himself some breakfast and eating quietly. "May's funeral is tomorrow and Happy's going to come over and discuss last minute details with me today. Do you want to be there when he does?" Peter shook his head. "Alright. Feel free to just hang out, then. When I'm done with Happy, we'll pick out a movie, okay?" Peter just nodded, so I left the kitchen and went down to my lab.

* * *

Happy arrived later that morning. He brought lunch, too, so Peter ended up staying with us in the living room while we talked. He sat close to me on the couch, nibbling on his Chipotle burrito while I talked to Happy quietly. It didn't take long to finish up last minute details and fifteen minutes after he arrived, Happy left.

"Want to watch another movie?" I asked, cleaning up the wrappers from our lunch. Peter shook his head. He was sprawled out on the couch, laying on his stomach with his head buried in the cushions. "What do you want to do then, bud?" He shrugged as best he could and I sighed. He turned his head so he was looking at me and I glanced at him.

"Can we get ice cream or something? I want to get out of the tower," he said. I nodded and offered my hand to help him up. He took it and I pulled him to his feet, pointing him towards his room to get changed.

It took him longer than usual to get dressed but by the time he came out, he seemed like he was mostly back to his old self. He had a small smile on his face, but I could still tell something had changed him. I started towards the garage, but Peter stopped me.

"Have you ever been on the subway, Mr. Stark?" he asked. I gave him a look, but he grinned for the first time in a long time so I sighed. "You'll hate it, but it's pretty cool." Peter told me all about the subway on the elevator ride down and when we finally walked outside, he was almost normal. His laughs were a little shorter, but it was nice to hear him laugh at all.

"How do we do this?" I asked as we walked into the subway station. We walked into the tunnel and up to a booth where Peter asked for my wallet. I handed it to him and he pulled out one of the cards and bought two tickets.

I followed Peter down the stairs and through the tunnel. Peter seemed to know what he was doing, but I had no clue so I just followed him around. I jumped when one of the subway trains came barreling past us and Peter chuckled. He glanced up at the digital board thingy hanging across the tracks then at the clock behind us.

"Our train should be this next one," he told me. I nodded, looking around the grimy station. Homeless people sat against the walls while other people walked around. This was definitely not my area of expertise.

Just as Peter had said, the next train that came through stopped in front of us. I was about to walk on as soon as the doors opened, but Peter pulled me back.

"People have to get off first," he told me. I nodded and watched as people poured out of the train cars then followed Peter on board. He grabbed hold of one of the ropes hanging down, so I copied him. He smirked and shook his head. "You might want to take the first one sitting down." I just tightened my grip on the rope and smirked back. Peter hid a laugh and soon the doors were closing and the car was full. He was right: I did hate it.