"So, tell me about how your situation at home is going."

He fiddled with the ring on his finger nervously. His legs bounced up and down rapidly, his gaze never leaving the ground. There were so many things he was holding back, so much to say, he just didn't know how, or if he even wanted to and it was blatantly obvious. 

Who could blame him, it hurt too much to talk about it. He would rather shove it down and forget, pretend that everything was perfectly fine. Even if that was the complete opposite to his reality. It's not like the person sitting patiently across from him was trained to help with problems like this.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me Peter."

It was the same, every time. Nothing had changed since their last appointment. She wasn't helping, so what was the point? How was she supposed to help anyways? At birth he was nearly taken to a foster home. Luckily his grand parents offered to raise him for the first few years of his life, otherwise who knows what would have happened. He had no father, and most of the time, no mother to take care of him.

At about the age of five, his mother was released from the mental institution she was locked up in and trialed to take care of her son. So she did, for about half a year before she fell back into drugs and alcohol. 

Peter was then taken away from her again, brought back to his grandparents while his mother went back to jail. Then for the next three years she was in and out of jail, struggling with her addictions till she went to rehab. 

She wanted so badly to get better, she knew it wasn't healthy and wanted to be able to take care of her son. He already had no dad, it wasn't fair that he didn't have a mother especially if she was still walking on this planet alive and somewhat well. 

After about four years, she was eventually deemed fit enough to raise her ten year old son. Finally her hard work had paid off. She got the only thing she had left, back. Her little Peter. She knew how hard it would be to make up for all the missing time. But she was willing to do anything.

Even without her, he grew up to be a smart man and he was able to endure so much pain. Like his messed up family and all the terrible rumours about his parents. Everyone in town called them crazy and psychotic. Heck they were probably right. 

"Peter, your mother really thinks these can help."

"Y/n, her name is Y/n, she's not my mother." He spat back, lifting his head. "She's only been in my life for three years, I'm fourteen."

She sighed in defeat, placing her notepad and pen down on the table beside her. It was impossible to help someone who didn't want help.

"She's really trying Peter."

"Obviously not hard enough." With that being said, he pushed his chair back, the metal scraping against the floor as he got up. Then ignoring her protests, he picked up his bag and opened the door to leave. 

He didn't want to be there any longer than necessary and those sessions weren't. They weren't doing any good and he wasn't surprised. His 'mother' had them too and there was no difference there. Still the worst mother in existence.

——

"Hey, look over there!" Someone yelled up ahead, pointing at Peter. "It's the freak!"

"I heard his dad was a psycho killer." They began whispering to each other, snickering to themselves as they clearly were amused with one another. 

It angered him, that they were talking about his dad. Even though he didn't ever get to know him, no one else had the right to mention him. He also didn't want to believe the rumours, he didn't want to be related to a murderer. 

"Be careful he might be just like him." One of them joked, smirking at the boy. A smirk Peter wanted to wipe away so badly. 

Peter clenched his fists, almost turning them white. He was getting ready to swing until all three of them suddenly hurriedly ran off in the opposite direction bickering to each other. Not that he was insulting himself, but it would've been unusual if he was the one to scare them off. Soon enough he realised why, when he saw his 'mom' standing on their front porch.

"Those boys have no idea what they're talking about, don't listen to them." She looked into the distance where they were still running as he pushed past her, entering the house. "How was school?"

He completely ignored her, storming down the hallway towards his bedroom before slamming his door shut. Y/n wanted to yell at him to not rudely ignore her like that but decided against. It would only make everything worse. She wanted her son to trust her, to love her not the opposite which is what their relationship lacked. 

Instead, she remained in the kitchen, leaning against the counter deep in thought. She wanted to scream, to cry but not with Peter around. That wouldn't be fair on him, he had been through so much. So had Y/n but she was the one who brought him into this life. She was the who found out she was pregnant after Eddie had died in the upside down. 

To calm herself down, she started to make dinner. Hopefully Peter would leave his room to get food, then he'd have to face Y/n and maybe they could talk. Talking would do them some good, just as long as it stays as talking. Most of the time it would turn into an argument, them both yelling at each other until one or both of them had enough.

When Peter left the comfort of his room after realising how hungry he was, he quietly made his way to the kitchen, fingers crossed that his mother was elsewhere. But to his dismay she was at at the table, eating her dinner whilst his was placed next to her.

"Thought, we could eat as a family." She almost choked out, failing to avoid the cracks in her voice. It was taking a lot of strength for her not to immediately break down into tears. This was a poor excuse of a family to say the least. A mother and her son that most likely hated her. "Please, sit Peter."

He begrudgingly made his way over to the chair, dragging it out before slumping down beside her. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, Y/n contemplating on what to say while Peter played with his food. Just as she was about to speak, he beat her to it. 

"What happened to dad?" He asked, avoiding eye contact in case her eyes were filled with anger with him asking something like that. "And don't lie."

"You wouldn't believe me." She replied, pushing her plate forward as she had lost her appetite. "No one else does."

"Maybe because it's bullshit."

"Don't speak to me like that!" Y/n yelled, springing up from her chair, instantly regretting how she raised her voice at him. He was just curious. "Sorry. It's just I don't know what you want me to tell you. He's gone, and he was a good man, that's for sure."

"Then why don't you talk about him?" 

Why? Maybe because it was too painful to even say his name. Everything that was once his, she had stuffed into one box that was stored away in one of the spare rooms. Away from sight to ensure she had no reminders of him. 

Except one daily reminder that was probably the most painful, Peter. He looked exactly like him, his chocolate button eyes, his dark curly hair, he resembled his father so much. 

"Because, it's too painful."

"Don't you think I deserve to know things about him? If you want me to believe he was innocent then why do you never tell me anything!" Peter dropped his fork onto his plate, slamming his hands on the table.

"I'm not ready." She tried to keep her answers short to prevent escalating it any further. "I will, all in good time."

"Well then, can you at least tell me why you never look at me?" That question, he knew would sting her. It stung him, more like a stabbing in the heart actually. It felt like he had been stabbed over and over again. His own mother couldn't even look at him. 

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is! You say that you're getting better after you spent years in and out of jail and rehab and that you just wanna be there for me but," He explained, throwing his hands up in the air exasperated. "you can't even look me in the eye."

"Peter."

"See, you're not even looking at me now!" What hurt the most, was that he was right. She wasn't. In fact she was looking anywhere but his eyes. The reminder of Eddie was bad enough but the fact that he probably would've been disappointed in her. She wouldn't blame him. "You're the worst mom ever!"

"I-" She struggled to find the words to reply to his remark, but it didn't matter since she was interrupted by him abruptly leaving the kitchen. That's all it took, for her to fall to her knees and the tears to fall down her face.

The pain was too much to handle, she had lost everything. No matter how hard she tried to work on herself, to be there for Peter, it was just too much. He hated her, her parents hated her and if Eddie was here, he would no doubt hate her too. 

"I'm so sorry Eddie." Y/n sobbed, holding her head in her palms. She let him down.

This is a bit different since there's no appearance from Eddie, but I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you'd like a part two and if you have any ideas, I'd be more than happy to write it!