chapter one. [edited]

                                    

                                          


                          
Peter thought it got easier. He thought with practice and time it would get easier. He wouldn't be so shaky, his throat wouldn't close up as much, his forehead wouldn't be covered in a layer of sweat. Clearly, it didn't get easier. He paced his room pack and forth, hesitating to open the door. All he had to do was walk down the hallway and hand him the letter. That's it, he would have to talk, hold eye contact, anything. Yet why was he so nervous. Who was he kidding, he knew why. This would be the first time he told someone in the tower. He was lucky enough to have supportive friends, but his family was something else.
                          
He knew it was dumb, panicking over coming out to a family that is primarily in the community. Christ, he had two dads. He knew they would be supportive, he knew. But the little voice in his head kept nagging him. 
                          
Peter had put this off for too long. He had to bite the bullet. He swallowed his nerves and gripped the letter in hand. This was only the first step. He'd have to do it again, but a step was a step. 
                          
The air felt colder as he walked down the hallway. He heard a faint sound come from the living room, where he found Clint watching a movie. No one else was around as they were either out on a mission or busy running errands. 
                          
Peter quietly came into Clint's field of vision, waving softly to get his attention. 
                          
Clint noticed him and paused the movie, "Hey kid, what's up?" Clint immediately noticed Peter's nervous state. He quickly took into the fact that he was shifting his weight on his heels and fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. "Can we talk?" Clint gave him a soft nod and stood up to face the teen. Peter didn't speak, he just quietly handed Clint the letter. "This for me?", Peter softly nodded, not bothering to look at his eyes. 
                          
Once he felt Clint take the letter, he dashed back to his room. He cried. Peter didn't know why but he felt like he was choking. He ran to his bathroom and took down the hoodie that hung over his head. Jesus, he felt sick. Peter has come to this exact same spot before, tear-stained face staring at the mirror in disgust. However today he was too overwhelmed. He shakily grabbed the pair of dull scissors he kept in his bathroom cabinet and looked into the mirror. He couldn't even call it a mirror anymore. So he gave in. The moment he saw the first lock of hair fall to the ground, he couldn't stop. He cut more and more off till his entire sink couldn't even be seen through the amounts of hair. Peter dried his face and looked at the mirror. It started to work. He ran his hands through his hair, fixing any areas he deemed uneven or too long. 
                          
He quietly picked up the hair in the sink and dumped it in the trash, not wanting to clog his sink. Peter made his way back into his room, only to be met with a knock on his door.
                          
He immediately became aware of his situation and silently panicked. "Kid, can I come in? I read the note." Clint softly said. Peter swallowed his nerves once again and opened the door. They were gonna have to see him eventually. 
                          
He quietly opened the door, avoiding eye contact, suddenly finding his floor tiles very interesting. The older man was about to speak before he took in Peter's hair. Clint softly placed his hand on Peter's hair and ruffled it a bit. 
                          
"It looks good, kid. What should I call you?" Peter looked up and tried to contain his tears, "Peter." Clint nodded and ran his hand through his hair once more, "It looks good Peter. May I come in?" Peter moved to let Clint make his way into his room, quietly sitting on the edge of his bed.
                          
They sat in silence for a few minutes before the older one quietly spoke up. "So who else knows." 
                          
Peter paused for a few minutes, "Just my friends and you. You're actually the first person in the tower I've told." he softly laughed and relaxed as he noticed Clint softly smile. "Well, I'm very glad you told me. It took a lot of courage." They both sat in comfortable silence for a while before hearing sparks coming from the kitchen. Stephen was home. Clint silently got up and patted Peter on the back before making his way out.