Shit my peeps, this took way too long to update. I'm super super super super sorry, but life is a shit hole. School's a bitch, and I lost not one, but two beloved pets in the span of two weeks, one of whom I'd grown up with and was my best friend. I've been dealing with that, and other mental health issues that have prevented me from actually sitting down to be productive. Hopefully now that it's summer, I'll have a little more free time to do some quality writing. This chapter ain't my best work, and I really hope that you guys think it's okay. I feel really bad for taking so long, and I would say that I promise to update sooner, but honestly, I have no idea. I will finish this story though, even if it kills me.

Flash shifted nervously, fidgeting with his jacket sleeve as his mother pulled up in front of Midtown High, putting the car in park. It had been three weeks since the shooting, and it was his first day back. Technically, it was everyone's first day back, but Flash, and anyone else who was directly involved with everything could have gotten more time. Peter was released from the hospital with an almost clean bill of health. Or at least that's what Flash overheard from Peter's nerd friend Ned, and MJ, as they spoke, walking into the school. The teen was just getting out of the car when the pair walked by, sparing him a glance before continuing walking.

"Thanks for the ride Mom," Flash called with a falsely cheerful tone.

"Are you sure you're okay to go back hun?" Flash rolled his eyes.

"Yes Mom, I'm fine. You can go now."

"Love you," his mother called as he shut the door, the window cracked slightly.

"Love you too," he called back as he spun around to face the school. Taking a deep breath in and letting it go, he started forward like a dead man walking. As soon as he entered the building, he could hear the whispers start and he could feel the stares following him as he moved to his locker. Flash always loved being the center of attention, but now it felt so wrong. Grabbing the locker harshly, feeling anger towards everyone, he nearly slammed the locker shut and exploded at the people, but suddenly there were two people at his side. Peter's two friends, well, friend and acquaintance.

"Sup Flash. Peter's out of the hospital now, in case you cared," MJ said, leaning against the lockers, looking bored with everything.

"Yeah, apparently he's healed enough to go home, but he's staying at the Tower with Mr. Stark cause he actually has a working elevator and Peter's apartment building doesn't." Flash winced at the reminder that Peter probably wouldn't be the same for a while, if ever.

"No thanks to you, of course," MJ said, a hint of venom in her voice, and Ned hissed her name in warning. "I mean, I know no one really knows what happened in that room, but I could guess that Peter's all fucked up because he was trying to save your ass," MJ said angrily, poking Flash in the chest with her finger.

"MJ! Stop," Ned said harshly and the girl huffed before dropping her finger, still glaring at Flash.

"That's what I thought. I really hope you quell some of these rumors, hopefully all of them, by doing some sort of publicity stunt. Go on social media, post a video, get an interview at a radio or TV station cause everyone knows how badly they want the story. I'm actually surprised no one was swarming us when we walked in."

"I will, I was actually planning on it. I owe Peter my life, and more. I couldn't ever repay him, so it'd be the least I could do."

"You better."

"I will, swear. I don't care how bad it makes me look. I've heard a lot of the rumors and they suck. Plus I'm really tired of people asking me what happened, or coming up and telling me how brave I was. I feel like a fraud," Flash said, deflating.

"Cause you are," MJ snapped before walking away briskly, Ned mouthing 'sorry' at Flash before quickly catching up to the furious girl. Flash groaned and slammed his head against the lockers. It was going to be a long day.

His classes for the day weren't even classes, they were basically 'circle time' as everyone fondly dubbed it. Everyone in class would get in a big circle and the teacher would lead them in questions and such and people would go around and say what they thought. It was stupid. Flash never spoke during these times, and the teachers didn't ever force him to. It was in his last class of the day, Social Psych, that he actually spoke up.

Everyone loved Social Psych because the teacher was amazing. She was a kind lady who took and gave absolutely no bullshit. She was insanely understanding about mental health and her policy was if you needed to not do anything, she wouldn't make you. There were never any tests or quizzes and rarely any homework, only if you didn't finish in class. Probably everyone's favorite part was her policy on napping. She figured that if you fell asleep, you probably needed it, so she wouldn't wake you or punish you in any way. Everyone loved the class.

Flash sat on the ground on a beanbag chair with everyone else either on the floor, in a random comfy chair, or on a similar beanbag to Flash. Even the teacher, Mrs. Moders, was reclined in a bean bag.

"Alright, so I know that we're supposed to do circle time, or whatever the hell it is, but to be completely honest, I think it's bullshit. All of these questions are so singular and unemotional. I don't think any of these questions are very helpful at all, so we're not going to use them. Plus, I think you've heard them enough for today." Everyone cheered, but Flash remained silent, watching the clock for when they could leave.

"What are we going to do then Mrs. Mod?"

"We're going to talk." Everyone groaned. "But not in the way you think. We're going to stay in this circle, but I just want everyone to talk about what's running through their mind's right now, in this moment. What happened here weeks ago was a traumatic event, I get this, and I know for a fact that everyone in this room should have some feelings about it. Man, I'm sounding way to close to the script. Just speak you mind, it's a safe space here. Nothing leaves this room, and by that I mean nothing. If someone breaks down, it stays in here. If someone confesses something, it stays in here. Anything you hear or see stays in this room between us."

"I'm really scared and it's been three weeks and I don't know why I'm still scared," a girl, Alyssa, calls out, sounding close to tears already. The mood had shifted through Mrs. Moders speech to one of sombre reflection.

"It's alright Alyssa, perfectly natural."

"I don't know how so many people can come back here and just act like nothing even happened. I mean, people died here, they were shot. We all came to school that day, expecting a normal day, and suddenly, we're fearing for our lives. I didn't sign up for this shit. This place isn't as safe as everyone else is fucking saying and it's so fucking annoying that people keep saying that it's fine now because it over, but it fucking isn't over!" A kid, Josh, all but shouted. Another thing everyone liked about Mrs. Moders was she didn't do anything if you swore. Excessively, yes, she would, but in cases like these, she'd let it slide.

"Exactly! Everyone keeps saying it's over now and everything is back to normal, but it isn't! We're all still dealing with it. Someone dropped their books in the hallway earlier and I nearly freaked out. I started hyperventilating and if my friend wasn't there, I probably would have had an anxiety attack," Jody, one of the girls who was near where the first shots went off, remarked. The atmosphere of the room was vibrating with anxiety and frustration.

"I hate the fact that they keep blaming Allen's mental health instead of also the fact that a kid was able to get his hands on a gun and shoot people with it. Like, what the fuck America?! What kind of society has such lax gun control that a kid who felt spited could easily get their hands on a semi-automatic and shoot up a place?" Rick, another kid close to the first shots, said, throwing his hands in the air. Flash was listening to everything people were saying, watching as they went about speaking, and noted how Mrs. Moders was also watching him.

"I think it's pretty fucked up that someone could feel so terrible in their own life to then take other people's lives and their own. I mean, of the people in the classroom, how many made it out? Two, and Parker was in critical for a while." There were mutterings of the rumors that had been floating around before Mrs. Mod shushed everyone, seeing how Flash was curling in on himself.

"Enough, everyone. I see that you're all familiar with the rumors floating around about what happened, but maybe we should air on the side of caution when one of those two survivors is in this room," she said passive-aggressively, though there was a warning in her words for those who heard. "Flash, would you like to speak?"

"Peter wasn't running away," he said softly, and continued after seeing how everyone turned to look at him. Sitting up straighter, Flash started playing with his jacket sleeves again. "Peter wasn't the coward, I was."

"Flash," Mrs. Mod started, but Flash didn't letter continue.

"Allen wanted me dead, me, and Peter got shot trying to talk Allen down, to save me. He saved my life and got shot because of it. He wasn't the coward, he was the hero, the brave one. I was the coward, trying to get away. If Peter wasn't there, if he, I would be," Flash stammered, feeling tears spilling from his eyes, but no one commented on them.

"So Parker saved your life? But, you'd always mess with him? Why would he do that?"

"I don't know okay?! He's just a self-sacrificing asshole who saved my life for some reason."

"Is he okay?"

"He was released from the hospital this week, nearly perfect health."

"What's wrong with him?" A girl whispered, but Flash wasn't sure who. Mrs. Moders glared in the direction.

"Flash, you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable, and who knows if Peter's comfortable with people knowing his status," Mrs. Mod stated, basically telling Flash to shut up. "Alright class, let's shift away from Peter and Flash, and get back to our own feelings on the matter instead of getting personal."

The discussion continued until the final bell rang and everyone got up to leave, Flash nearly sprinting out of the school and to his Mom's car.

"Not so good?" Flash shook his head as his Mom pulled away from the curb.

"No."

"You still up to give that interview?"

"Yeah. I got it."

"Good, because Johnny's expecting you."

The two drove to the news station, parked, and walked in. Flash's mom kept a grounding hand on his shoulder the whole time they were ushered around, told what was going to happen, and getting ready.

"Alright, and go in three, two," the camera man said before a red light blinked on and Johnny, the new anchor, started.

"Good afternoon Queens. I'm Johnny here with another guest interview tonight. Now, we all know of the shooting that occurred at Midtown High School of Science and Technology three weeks prior to today, and our thoughts and prayers still go out to the families of those who have lost someone, as well as the family of Peter Parker, who was gravely injured in the shooting. Tonight, we have a guest on who will be recounting his experiences first-hand. No one knows the full story, so hopefully, with his insight, we can glean a bit more knowledge into what happened that day. Eugene Thompson, thank you for joining me today."

"Thanks Johnny, you can call me Flash, everyone does," Flash said, feeling extremely self-conscious. He adjusted the neck of his shirt, feeling really warm under the studio lighting.

"Alright then Flash. So why now? Three weeks after the shooting?"

"Well, today was the first day back for everyone, and I've needed some time to think over what I would say."

"If you don't mind me asking, but what did happen in that room? Stories vary widely all over social media and through word of mouth. What's your story?"

"My story is pretty simple. I was a bully, I bullied Allen, I bullied Peter, I bullied a lot of kids. I never really thought about what I was doing, and I feel even worse that it took something like this for me to actually want to change what I've been doing. I was in the room, same as everyone else, when Allen walked in and shot Ms. Elis with his gun. He didn't even flinch. I was terrified, everyone was. Allen was pointing his gun at me, a pistol, forced me to stand. I thought I was dead right there, pretty sure I was crying," Flash said with a shaky laugh before clearing his throat.

"You don't have to continue if you don't feel comfortable Mr. Thompson."

"No, I'm good, I have to. I was pretty sure I was dead right there, but then Peter stood and put himself between the gun and I. He pushed me behind him and stared Allen dead in the eyes, almost daring him to shoot. I didn't understand how he didn't flinch, still don't. I was shaking, pretty sure I am now just thinking about it, but Peter, he just put himself in the path of a bullet to save me. He convinced Allen to let everyone go. Allen agreed, but wanted me to stay behind. Parker, for some reason, said that he was staying if I was staying. I'd swear he had no self-preservation and a death wish. Everyone left, but Isaac, he was just there all of a sudden and Allen reacted and then Isaac, well, he was, he was dead too. Allen blamed Peter for distracting him, but Peter still stayed between us." Flash could feel himself shaking. Johnny handed him a bottle of water, which Flash was grateful for.

"I apologize if this is asking too much, but with all the rumors floating around, a lot are centered around Peter Parker trying to run and that's what got him shot. What happened from you point of view?"

"Peter wasn't a coward, he never tried to run. He had multiple opportunities, but no, he stayed and even tried to talk Allen down, multiple times. He stood there, between Allen and I, trying to talk sense into Allen, who was holding a gun leveled at Parker's head. I was hiding behind Peter, a kid who I'd bullied for years, who was for some reason saving me. He told Allen that'd he'd have to shoot him to get to me. I don't even know how Peter reacted so fast, but I heard the gun go off as Peter shoved me out of the way. My head hit a desk and I was knocked out so I'm not sure what happened during the time I was unconscious. All I know is that when I woke up, Peter was leaning against the shelves, a hole in his chest. He was still trying to help Allen, and this was the kid who shot him. Parker is insane, and the bravest, and possibly stupidest, person I know. I watched Peter, bleeding out, trying to talk Allen down from killing himself. We all know the ending."

"That was, quite the story Mr. Thompson, thank you. Is there anything more you'd like to add?"

"Peter Parker was not a coward, I was. I was terrified for my life and froze; I thought I was dead. Peter saved my life, and nearly died doing so. If anyone has anything they'd like to say against Peter, they can personally say it to my face. I'm not threatening, I'm just saying, I'm not lying, and I was not put up to this. Telling my side of the story, and telling the truth about what happened, is the closest I can get to paying Peter back for what he did for me, and even this is barely anything. Thank you Peter, if you're listening. And screw whoever thinks Peter's a coward. He's the bravest person I know."

"Alright, thank you Flash for your time. That's all the time we have for today, see you tomorrow." The red light blinked off as Flash stumbled away from the chair he was seated in and towards his mom, who hugged him tightly.

"Feel better hun?"

"You have no idea."

Like I said in the above notes, I would promise faster updates, but then I may end up breaking the promise (though I don't know how not updating half a year later would be any worse than this shit storm). I apologize yet again for the extremely belated update, and hopefully, hopefully, I'll be better in the future. I also need to learn how to plan things out before I write, cause this just was a random spew of words that happened. Let me know if you thought it was okay in the comments, or leave some kudos! Whatever my peeps, just let me know what you like or don't like, I'm open to criticism (plus happy comments and other praise comments sincerely make my day, week, month, even year, especially the ones where I can tell you really enjoyed my writing).

Later my peeps.

Seen you soon (hopefully).