Taylor Hebert, The Hivemind (Worm/Marvel) | Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Taylor Hebert

Taylor awoke to a mouth that felt like dry cardboard and eyes that were crusty, with a crumpled paper stuck to the side of her face. For a moment, she stared at two old noodle cups slumped on the floor, remnants of late-night study sessions, before she pushed herself up. Clothes were haphazardly spilled from the chair, and the faint, stale odor of her own sweat made her stomach churn. Her neck throbbed from having slept in an awkward position, and as she shifted, the sharp edge of a textbook dug into her forearm, leaving a painful red line.

She glanced at her laptop, a wave of dread washing over her as she groaned. The assignment due tomorrow loomed over her like a dark cloud. The horrors of high school were relentless.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in her blinds, piercing her eyes. “Turn off the sun,” she muttered, her voice rough and gravelly from sleep and disuse.

With a groan, Taylor pushed herself upright and reached for her glasses. Sliding them on, she blinked hard as the room came into sharper focus. Across the room, the clock had toppled from the shelf overnight; it lay face-down on the carpet, one battery half-ejected, its face shattered. She exhaled through her nose, a quiet sound of annoyance escaping her at the realization that she had broken yet another clock.

Rubbing her face with both hands, she tried to wipe away the remnants of sleep. Papers were strewn everywhere: Math, History, Chemistry, and English: each subject a reminder of the overwhelming workload. Who thought it was a good idea to burden high schoolers with so much homework over the weekend?

A sigh escaped her lips, and the sound snapped her back to reality. The ease of it made her moan in delight before she finally exited her room, making her way to the bathroom. The state of the house was deteriorating day by day; weeds had somehow found the dampness needed to sprout between the wooden floorboards, and something unsightly was growing in the corner.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she deemed it a waste of time to tend to it. Instead, she grabbed her toothbrush and began brushing her teeth, only to be interrupted by her phone ringing in her pocket.

Slipping her hand in, she pulled it out and answered, "What do you want, Peter?"

Peter Parker

"What do you want, Peter?"

Peter laughed lightly, "Good morning to you too, sleepyhead!" He said with a playful tone as he picked up his order from the deli—a perfectly wrapped turkey sandwich generously slathered with extra mayo. After settling the bill, a frown creased his brow as he realized it was high time he found a job and stopped depending on his uncle and aunt for support to lighten the burden that already fell on their shoulders.

"Ughhh, I'm really not in the mood, Peter. Why are you calling so early?" Taylor groaned, her voice thick with sleep and irritation.

As Peter hopped onto his bicycle, gripping the handlebars with one hand while balancing the phone with the other, he replied, "Ummm, Taylor, you do know it's almost 8 a.m., right? It's a bit late to be early, especially with school. Oh, and by the way, do you like turkey?"

There was a brief silence on the line, and then Peter was jolted by the sound of a loud crash followed by a flurry of curses and groans. "Fuck! I'm late!!!" Taylor exclaimed, her panic palpable as she scrambled to get ready, the urgency in her voice unmistakable.

"Peter, why didn't you tell me sooner!!!!!" she shouted into the phone, her frustration evident as more crashing sounds echoed in the background.

Peter chuckled softly to himself, knowing all too well that Taylor was not a morning person. It was almost a given that she would forget to wake up on time; it was one of those charming quirks that made her one of his closest friends. He couldn't help but feel a sense of affection for her chaotic mornings.

He came to a halt on his bicycle, tearing his sandwich in two as he waited for a response. Over the phone, Taylor's voice crackled through: "Sorry, Peter, I can't. I'm right about to—"

Suddenly, Taylor crashed through her front door, slipping on the stairs and tumbling to the ground as her bag filled with books spilled out in a chaotic mess. Peter frowned at the sight, quickly hopping off his bike to help.

"Ouch, why me..." Taylor murmured, her voice laced with frustration as she scrambled to gather her scattered books. A shadow loomed over her for a moment before she looked up to see Peter smiling down at her, waving cheerfully.

"Hey there, jitterbug," he said, adjusting his glasses with a playful grin. He bent down to help her retrieve her books, his hands moving swiftly to gather the scattered pages. Once she was back on her feet, he awkwardly extended half of his sandwich toward her. "So... you like turkey?"

Taylor, dressed in a worn and stretched T-shirt and old jeans that had seen better days since middle school, looked at him with a hint of surprise. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her glasses were slightly askew on her face. "Yeah... I eat turkey," she replied, taking the sandwich from him and taking a hearty bite.

"Hop on! If my raw muscular legs work hard enough, we should only be late by an hour," Peter quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. He hopped back onto his bicycle, giving a playful tap to the back of the seat, much to Taylor's horror.

"Hmmm, okay... and when did you develop those muscular legs, chicken legs?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Peter feigned an expression of hurt, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. "How you wound me, Tay-Tay! I thought we were friends because of my rippling muscles. But it seems it was only to take my turkey sandwich."

With a laugh, Taylor hopped onto the bike, wrapping her arms around Peter's shoulders. "We are friends, but let's be honest—the turkey sandwich was the objective all along."