---
Outside the Hellfire Club
The night was alive with muted city sounds: the occasional honk of a car horn, the chatter of passersby, and the hum of neon lights casting their glow over the streets. Javier walked away from the Hellfire Club, hands in his coat pockets, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings for a place to eat.
He stopped at a modest supermarket, the kind that smelled of cleaning supplies and overripe fruit. It was busy inside, with staff rushing to restock shelves and customers lingering in long lines at the registers. Javier grabbed a basket, collecting some essentials: a loaf of bread, a carton of milk, some fresh fruit, and snacks for the road.
The line at the checkout stretched longer than he'd anticipated. Javier sighed, leaning on his basket, trying to suppress his growing impatience.
"Patience is a virtue," he muttered to himself with a dry smirk.
It was then that a commotion in the snack aisle caught his attention. A loud, mocking voice rose above the ambient noise.
"Come on, Parker," the voice sneered. "You're so broke, you probably had to borrow that shirt!"
Javier turned his head slightly, his sharp gaze narrowing in on the scene. A gangly boy with thick glasses—Peter Parker—was pressed against the shelves, clutching his backpack tightly. Opposite him stood Flash Thompson, his large frame radiating misplaced arrogance as he shoved Peter.
"Give it a rest, man," Peter muttered, his voice laced with exhaustion.
"Or what?" Flash taunted, stepping closer. "You gonna cry about it?"
Javier rolled his eyes, setting his basket down. He walked toward them, his footsteps deliberate and calm.
"Is there a problem here?" Javier asked, his tone steady but carrying a quiet authority.
Flash turned, his bravado faltering momentarily at the sight of the taller, leaner man. "Who are you, his dad or something?"
"Just someone who doesn't enjoy watching a grown boy act like a child," Javier replied coolly, his piercing gaze locking onto Flash.
Flash hesitated but then scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Whatever. Mind your own business." He shoved past Javier, but not before subtly bumping into him.
Javier frowned as the teen hurried away, muttering under his breath. Turning back to Peter, he asked, "You alright, kid?"
Peter adjusted his glasses, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for stepping in."
"Bullies only thrive because no one stops them," Javier said simply. "You shouldn't have to deal with that."
Peter nodded, still clutching his backpack nervously.
Javier returned to the checkout counter, ready to pay for his groceries. But as he reached into his pocket, his heart sank. His wallet was gone.
"What the…" Javier muttered, patting his coat frantically.
Peter's eyes widened in realization. "Oh no… Flash! He must've taken it when he bumped into you!"
Javier closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a long, measured breath. "Perfect," he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance.
Peter looked devastated. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault. If you hadn't stepped in to help me, this wouldn't have happened."
Javier shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault Flash has sticky fingers."
Peter hesitated before blurting out, "You could stay at my place."
Javier blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Yeah!" Peter said, his voice growing more confident. "It's the least I can do. My Aunt May won't mind. She loves helping people."
"That's kind of you, but—"
"No buts!" Peter interrupted, his voice insistent. "It's my fault your money was stolen. Please, just say yes."
Javier studied the boy's earnest expression. Truth be told, the idea of saving money on a hotel room was tempting. After a moment, he sighed.
"Alright," he said with a faint smile. "If you're sure."
---
The Parker Residence
Peter led the way to his modest home, chatting nervously as they walked. Javier listened in silence, occasionally nodding.
When they arrived, Peter pushed open the door and called out, "Aunt May! I'm home!"
From the kitchen, a warm voice called back, "In here, Peter!"
Javier stepped inside, taking in the cozy living room. It was a humble but welcoming space, filled with personal touches: family photos, a crocheted throw draped over the couch, and the faint scent of freshly baked cookies lingering in the air.
May appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. She was beautiful, with warm eyes and a kind smile that instantly made Javier feel at ease. Her presence radiated warmth and compassion, a stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside.
"And who's this?" she asked, her gaze shifting to Javier.
"Aunt May, this is Javier," Peter explained. "He's a transfer student, and, uh… he's staying with us for a bit."
Javier extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
"Call me May," she said, shaking his hand warmly. "A transfer student? Where are you from?"
Javier hesitated for a moment, then said, "I was homeschooled before moving here. My parents… they passed away recently, so I've been trying to figure things out on my own."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Peter shuffled awkwardly, glancing at his aunt.
May's expression softened, and she stepped forward, pulling Javier into a gentle hug. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said softly.
Javier stiffened, unused to such open kindness, but eventually relaxed. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the comfort she offered.
"You're welcome here as long as you need," May said, pulling back and giving him a reassuring smile.
"Thank you," Javier said quietly, his voice tinged with genuine gratitude.
"Peter, show Javier the guest room," May instructed. "I'll fix us something to eat."
---
The Guest Room
Peter led Javier upstairs, gesturing to a small but tidy room with a neatly made bed and a desk by the window.
"It's not much," Peter said sheepishly, "but it's all yours for now."
Javier set down his bag, glancing around. "It's perfect. Thanks, Peter."
Peter hesitated at the door, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, I'm really sorry about your wallet. Flash is a jerk. I'll figure out a way to get it back."
Javier smiled faintly. "Don't worry about it. I've lost worse things."
Peter smiled back, his shoulders relaxing. "Well, I'm glad you're here. You seem… cool."
Javier chuckled. "Thanks, kid."
As Peter left, Javier sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves outside.
For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of calm—a fleeting but welcome reprieve from the storm that loomed ahead.