Bullied

                                    

                                          
A/N This was requested by Yoyoyoyomynameis_joe (thanks very much btw) if you have a request pls just comment it I'll make sure to credit you (unless u don't want me to, I completely understand if u don't) u can also do it directly to me if u'd prefer (I think thats a thing, I dunno) anyway, here's the story! 
                          
-here's where the story starts-
                          
Peter and Ned squished their ways through the crowds, heading towards their lockers. Ned was rambling about a new lego set he had gotten, which Peter thought was awesome, but he couldn't tell Ned so since Ned probably wouldn't hear him over the loud chattering of the hundreds of teens rushing through the crowded hallways. 
                          
They finally came to a stop at the lockers, near a gaggle of cheerleaders, sending the pair dirty looks when they came near before turning, flipping their hair and stalking away. 
                          
Ned and Peter shrugged, ignoring it. They couldn't make people like them, and with the high school rumours flying around, everything they did was judged. 
                          
"So are you up to coming over this weekend? We can build the lego set together." Ned asked, brown eyes wide with hope. 
                          
"Sure, I'll have to ask dad, but I'm sure it'll be fine." Peter replied, hugging the books that didn't fit into his bag to his chest. The school had mostly emptied by now, so they could walk more leisurely through the hallways. 
                          
"Great! This is going to be awesome!" Ned squealed. "Maybe I can get my mum to make cookies for the day!" 
                          
Peter grinned at that, turning around while walking to face his best friend. "That sounds awesome dude, your mum makes the best cook- welp!" 
                          
Peter's spidersenses went of big time, but he ignored them- allowing himself to be pushed roughly to the ground, books and papers spilling everywhere. 
                          
Flash towered over him, a big grin on his face. "Watch where you're going Penis." He sneered, kicking one of his books away as Peter reached out to grab it. 
                          
Ned scowled. "You were the one to walk into him!" He fumed. 
                          
Flash just laughed. "Your boyfriend sticking up for you Penis? Cute." 
                          
Peter scowled, roughly gathering up his books and papers and standing up. "Go back to your mummy Flash, you're not wanted here, though you're really not wanted anywhere I suppose." 
                          
Flash looked hurt for a second, but quickly recovered. "At least I have a family, what have you got Penis, a dumpster behind McDonald's? Why don't I escort you there now?" 
                          
Flash roughly grabbed Peter's arm, beginning to drag him towards the door. 
                          
Ned, deciding he needed to help Peter, ran to the door and stood in the way. "Leave him alone Flash!" 
                          
Flash rolled his eyes. "Move it fatty, Penis's feeling homesick." 
                          
Ned shook his head. "I'll, I'll uh fight you!" He said, lifting his fists. 
                          
"Ned, leave it." Peter sighed. 
                          
Ned's eyes filled with sadness as he looked at Peter, who looked rather defeated. Peter didn't want to be beat up, but if he didn't, he knew Flash would do it on someone else, someone who couldn't deal with it, someone who couldn't fight back. 
                          
And he tried to explain this to Ned, so many times, but Ned didn't understand. Ned thought that maybe he was that person. Was he really dealing with it? Was he really coping just fine? Did he not really spend time in the shower, watching blood run down the drain? Did he really look in the mirror at purple bruises and slowly healing broken ribs? Did he really not turn up at school with bandaids on his nose, which he blamed on patrol? Did he really not lay in bed, thinking about the insults thrown at him all day? Did he really not let tears drip down his face, shoulders quaking, hand over his mouth to stop noises from escaping?