Chapter 100: The Troubles of Growing Up (Part 1)

“I swear, I just pushed him once! I didn’t mean to… okay, I was furious at the time—that bastard dared to insult Gwen!” Peter muttered, walking with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Stark slapped his back. “Relax. Even if you’d punched him, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Someone insults your girlfriend—you give him one punch, that’s barely even punishment.”

“I didn’t punch him…” Peter sighed helplessly.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Come on—I hired an Italian chef. Tonight, we’re having pizza.” Stark grinned.

The whole thing started this morning.

Peter had been cheerful when he arrived at school, waiting for Gwen right at the gate. They chatted all the way to class, reluctant to part even as they reached the classroom door.

American public high schools didn’t care about dating—as long as you weren’t outrageous, teachers ignored it.

So Peter held Gwen’s hand as they said goodbye at the door—until a member of the neighboring football team walked over, mocked Peter, and hurled vile insults at Gwen.

Peter flew into a rage. The football player made a lewd gesture toward him. In a flash, Peter shoved him—and the guy nearly got embedded in the wall.

Peter could mostly control his strength now, but in that moment of fury, he’d pushed with far too much force. The guy was flung backward and broke a rib.

As a result, the boy’s parents complained to the school about bullying. Naturally, they summoned Peter’s guardians—but Peter couldn’t explain to his uncle and aunt how he’d gained such strength. So he gave them Stark’s number instead.

The teacher immediately called Stark Tower’s headquarters. JARVIS received the call and forwarded it directly to Stark.

Stark arrived at school in a flashy sports car. The boy’s parents couldn’t possibly miss the world’s richest man—they immediately claimed it was a misunderstanding. Stark, meanwhile, kept encouraging Peter: “You should’ve punched that bastard.”

Gwen tried to comfort him too, saying the guy deserved it—but Peter was still miserable. As a good student, he’d never once been called in to meet his parents. And now Stark’s big mouth had gone around boasting: within two days, the whole superhero circle knew Peter had gotten Stark dragged to school over a fight.

Kids his age hated being treated like children—and now Peter was the target of constant teasing. He was utterly depressed.

In SHIELD’s cafeteria, Steve said, “You could’ve just given me your number. At least I look more alert than that drunk, sleep-deprived jerk.”

Nearby, Coulson added, “At least he’s old enough.”

"And by generation, I'm even his uncle."

“But…” Steve cut a piece of steak. “You need to learn to control your emotions. When I first underwent the enhancement, I was the same—any strong emotion made me lose control of my super strength.”

“So how did you fix it?”

“First, you have to recognize the problem yourself. Second, seek professional help—learn how to stabilize your emotions.”

“I’m not really an angry person,” Peter said gloomily. “But when certain things happen, I just can’t hold back.”

Steve smiled. “Don’t worry—I was the same. Back in the army, some hotshots kept picking on Peggy, hurling slurs at her. I beat them all up.”

“Of course, you’ve got to control your force—otherwise you’ll cause trouble. But if you keep it in check, it’s just a regular brawl. Worst case, you get locked up for a while.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected Captain America to have this side—but then again, the flawless saintly image in propaganda films and movies? Impossible in real life.

That night, Peter returned to Shiler’s psychological clinic. “Doctor, I need to borrow your place to do homework. My uncle and aunt are completely renovating my bedroom—the paint smell hasn’t faded yet. I can’t stay there.”

“Come in. Clear off that desk. Pikachu! Pikachu! Get over here! Take your boxes of peanut butter away—you’ve been hogging my desk for three days straight…”

Peter picked up the leaping Pikachu. “Did you gain weight? Why do I feel heavier?”

“Of course he’s gained weight. Eat five jars of peanut butter and two pounds of cheese a day—you’ll get fat too.”

Pikachu flicked his tail. “Mind your own business, kid. I’m just a mouse, not a bodybuilder. So what if I’m a little plump?”

Peter opened his backpack, pulled out his textbooks. Shiler cooked in the kitchen. “I heard your teacher called Stark to school? Didn’t he drive the teacher insane?”

“I had no choice. How do I explain to my uncle that I can shove a 90-kilo football player across the room?”

“Oh, by the way.” Peter turned. “Doctor, can you teach me how to control my emotions? I didn’t mean to hurt anyone—I just got too angry and lost control of my strength…”

“Why do you want to do that? Why are you suddenly thinking about controlling your emotions and restraining your power?”

“I… I don’t want to hurt someone someday when I lose control.”

“Then why did you lose control?”

“Because he insulted Gwen—and he said awful things.”

“Isn’t that his problem? He’s the one who needs to learn emotional control—not you.”

“But…”

“You’re too quick to blame yourself. You assume everything is your fault. But the truth is—you exceed ordinary moral standards by so much, it only brings you more pain.”

“Don’t always look inward for the cause. Have you ever considered that maybe it’s not you who’s wrong—but the world?”

Peter opened his mouth, confused. “I thought… I thought psychologists were supposed to be…”

“That’s just what you thought.”

Shiler walked over with a plate. Peter sniffed the aroma of scrambled eggs and swallowed. Shiler set the plate down. “Psychologists aren’t army drill sergeants or schoolteachers. We don’t tell you who’s right or wrong. Everything I guide you through—every therapy—is from your perspective. I step into your mind, then help you see your problems from another angle…”

“Alright, I know I overthink sometimes. I worry about things that haven’t even happened.”

“That’s the curse of geniuses. Stark suffers from it too.”

“What’s wrong with Stark?”

“Two days ago, he had another huge fight with Pepper. He stormed out and went drag-racing. Conners saw him. The next morning, Conners mocked him. Then he ran into Steve…”

“He called me and asked if he was the worst person on Earth—why else would the world keep turning against him?”

“Jian Lai”

“And then?”

“I gave him about two hours of therapy. After that, he made up with them.”

Peter said skeptically, “What kind of therapy? That fast?”

“I yelled at him. Then he thought everyone else yelling at him was mild by comparison. Naturally, they made up.”

Peter immediately felt sympathy for Stark.

Later, Peter finished his homework and ate. He lay on the sofa, staring blankly—unlike usual, he didn’t play games with Pikachu.

Shiler wrote his paper at a nearby desk. Peter rested his arm over his forehead. “Why is there so much weirdness in this world? Why do problems keep piling up? Why do people have so many worries?”

“Because your life is slowly improving. The better your life gets, the more noticeable the small troubles become.”

“Think about it—when you didn’t have so many worries, what was your life like? If those same problems had happened back then, would you have cared?”

Peter thought. When Uncle Ben and Aunt May got bad health results, they had no money. Peter had no way out. Back then, if he’d argued with a classmate at school, he’d have forgotten it immediately—he had bigger problems to face.

Compared to the pressure of survival, a petty argument meant nothing. Back then, he wouldn’t have had time to lie here complaining—he’d probably still be running errands to earn cash.

Peter said, “Sometimes I just want to grow up fast, get into college, buy a house so Uncle and Aunt can live more comfortably, get a respectable job, and get engaged to Gwen. Isn’t that what adults do?”

“But sometimes, I wish this year would never end—that I could stay a high school student forever, just attending class, doing homework, then sleeping till morning.”

Shiler listened quietly. The soft tapping of his keyboard echoed in the dim room.

“Sometimes I dream of countless stars forming a net. I dream I’ve become a giant spider. Maybe being a spider wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

“Other times, I dream I’ve lost Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Gwen’s gone too. The whole world is just me.”

“They say dreams reflect the inner self. Do you think that’s true, Doctor?”

“I crave freedom, yet fear loss. I want to be a hero—but I don’t even know what a hero is…”

Peter didn’t wait for an answer. He fell asleep. Outside, the night sky was full of stars. Only the computer screen glowed in the room—Shiler had already left.

Pikachu hugged a pillow, slid it under Peter’s head, then tossed a blanket over him. He muttered to himself, “Humans have so many problems. Everyone who comes and goes here has worries.”

Then he looked at Peter. “You’re lucky, kid. Maybe all of them are lucky—even mice are the same…”

"When does growing up ever come without worries?"