#andrew garfield spider man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helloheyhihowdyheya · 2 years

Text

On a Tuesday | pt. 2 of 2

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Masterlist

Summary: Life had been a bit lonely – that is until Peter Parker brightened up your life. On a Tuesday. And when that friendship seems to fizzle out on a Tuesday? You’re sure the universe is playing some sort of trick on you.

Word Count: ~14,900 (i’m sorry)

Warnings: A bit of angst. Fluff. Reunited friends to lovers. Hurt/comfort. Canon level violence. Description of wounds and stitching it up. Some angst. Brief mention of throwing up. It gets just a teensy suggestive at the end. Light swearing.

A/N: Thank you so much for the love! I hope this ending fixes all the angst I caused. I really enjoyed writing these characters, and they took my story that was supposed to be short and ran with it lol. I hope you love it, and thank you for reading! I love hearing your thoughts <3

You finally saw your new house after spending too many days cramped in a box-filled car with your parents. It was bigger, but the roominess felt cold, and lonely. Carrying your things in and finding your bedroom, you hoped filling it with decorations and old stuffed animals that made the room yours would help it feel better. Like a new start, rather than an ending.

Starting at a new school halfway through high school wasn’t the easiest. Your body tried pulling in on itself like it did all those years ago spent alone in middle school. But remembering the way Peter changed that all around made up your mind – you wouldn’t let yourself fall into despair again. And you had learned you couldn’t rely on others to fix things.

Remembering Peter did hurt, and you thought about unblocking him nearly every day. But you found some students that you shared classes with, and you somehow worked up the courage to ask if you could sit with them at lunch. And as they accepted you, welcoming you with interested questions and light jokes, it really did feel like a beginning.

Through the last two years of high school, Gwen was really the only one you talked to from back home. She was set on sending letters back and forth, wanting to keep up the tradition you had accidentally started. She updated you on what was happening in school and the town in general. You smiled down at the paper, reading her words of Harry doing better. His grades were good, sure, but he carried himself differently. She rarely mentioned Peter, though when she did, it mostly talked about how little he showed up around school anymore.

And you got a few cards from Aunt May for your birthday and some holidays, her swooping handwriting gracing a love-filled card with sweet messages in them. You sent thank-you cards back to her every time and sent a card for her birthday. You would write “Hope you and Peter are doing well!” but couldn’t bring yourself to ask further about him. Similar to Gwen, May just wrote that he seemed good but was often gone from the house.

The years passed quickly as you got a bit more involved with friends and school, keeping your grades up so you could get into the colleges you were looking at. You thought about local universities, ones your new friends might go to, but the thought of returning to New York pulled at the back of your mind.

In her letters, Gwen mentioned attending Empire State University, and you couldn’t deny the way hope bloomed in your chest at the thought of being with her again. And though Flash was also planning on attending, she told you Harry was thinking about it as well. The home you were forced to leave behind called to you, and as your high school announced your name while walking across the stage, they also announced that you would be attending ESU.

Your parents had decided to make a whole trip out of it – to visit old friends after moving you in for college orientation. You all pulled up to the campus parking lot and got out, your eyes watching all the students and supervisors running around. There was barely any time to process the chaos when you heard a squeal from Gwen, your new college roommate.

She gave a crushing hug, and while her bright laugh and the genuine jokes between you two seemed exactly the same, there was still a two-year space between you. Still, none of it felt like it mattered when she pulled away and said, “I can’t believe you’re actually here, in the flesh. I’m so excited. Come check out our apartment!” Your cheeks soon started hurting from smiling so hard.

You two got an on-campus apartment, and while its walls were an ugly off-white and had too many mysterious stains, it was a home with Gwen. Your parents and her father caught up while helping you unpack. The place started to look like a real living space when a knock rang out on the apartment door.

Gwen looked at you, biting her lip as a smile grew across her face. “Oh, I invited our first real guest. I hope that’s okay!” she said while opening the door. She cackled at the way your mouth dropped open when you saw Harry standing in the hallway.

She let him in, but he only took a step before you crashed into him to give a long-overdue hug. “Harry, you’re really here. It’s been so long,” you said, trying to keep the happy tears from coming out.

“Hey, kid,” he breathed out, his cheek resting against your head.

You pulled back, admiring the way his features had grown sharper and his hair shorter since you last saw him. With a smile, you said, “You’re just in time to help us decorate. We need your expertise.”

He nodded with a wide grin, giving a fake bow and said, “Do not fret. Your hero has now arrived.”

“Wow, a hero? Are you secretly Spider-Man?” Gwen asked, sarcasm dripping in her voice and making the parents laugh.

You said, “Oh, yeah. I can’t believe I’ll actually get to see the famous New York Spider-Man, unless of course he’s in front of me right now.” You gestured to Harry, but he just lightly smacked your arm and got to helping you unpack and decorate.

Gwen had written to you about this strange masked vigilante, about the people that loved him and those that weren’t as nice about it. You had seen some big events on the news about him, and you understood the risks he made that people disliked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. He was clearly trying to help a city that desperately needed it. You were excited to actually see him in action.

With these thoughts drifting through your head, you glanced over at Gwen and Harry discussing where to put a lamp. Gwen put the lampshade on Harry’s head and laughed, their infectious energy bringing you over to join their antics.

And that’s how college began. All three of you had your own majors and clubs you were in, but at the end of the day, it would be Gwen, Harry, and you sitting down to have crappy cafeteria food together. It felt like the right balance you had been looking for back in high school, and your heart was finally content.

That was until Parent Weekend rolled around the next month. Your parents couldn’t make the long trek out, but you were just fine spending the weekend with Gwen’s dad and brothers. Harry tagged along as well, as his father had other duties to attend to. Her younger brothers were busy playing some carnival games the school had set up, and the college’s mascot was roaming around to get everyone excited for the football game that day.

You turned away from one of the concession stands after grabbing cotton candy when it felt like your breath was knocked from your chest. There, a few feet away, stood Aunt May enjoying a food stand hotdog. After taking a bite, she looked up, and your eyes connected. The world seemed to pause for a moment before you rushed over to her food in hand.

She immediately wiped her mouth and brought you in for a hug. She said, “Do my eyes deceive me? Oh my lord, is it really you?”

You nodded, your face crinkling as a smile grew over your face. “May, I can’t believe it. I’m so happy to see you.”

She squeezed your hand before asking a million questions about what has changed over the past two years, and she responded in between bites. After a few minutes, you heard Gwen calling your name, and you waved her and Harry over. “You guys will never believe who I ran into!”

As soon as May saw them, her eyes became glassy. The four of you shared a moment together, catching up with wide smiles like almost nothing had changed. Except… Gwen asked the question floating in the air. “Hey, May, what are you doing here, by the way? Peter isn’t…” She trailed off, letting May fill in the blank. You were glad you weren’t the only one unaware of what Peter was up to these days.

And you had been so caught up in seeing May again that you’d nearly forgotten all about Peter and his number you blocked so long ago. Almost like her words were far away or underwater, you heard her distantly say, “I would say I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, but he didn’t tell me you guys were here either! He made a last-minute decision to attend ESU, but I’m here to surprise him. He thinks I’m busy working, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere…”

They continued chatting about it, but their voices didn’t really reach your ears as you turned around to look for him. Peter was here?

You searched through the crowds of students and families wearing your college’s colors, but it was noisy and the air smoky from the concession stands working overtime. You were about to turn back and tune into the conversation again when you heard that unmistakable laugh, a melodic sound your ears refused to forget.

You whipped your head around to locate the noise, and when you finally saw him, your breath escaped you. With his face tilted backward and his hand on his chest, his body shook with laughter as he walked next to another student several yards away. He wore a university t-shirt, the short sleeves showing off his arms. Did they always look like that?

It’s then you noticed how he had grown, again. But mostly, he looked fuller, more complete. Like himself again, except his glasses were gone. You had always hoped time would serve him well, letting the wounds of Uncle Ben fade a little as years passed.

You weren’t too sure about miracles or fate, but it truly felt like the clouds parted to shine a light down on his ruffled hair when he looked forward again. The sun floated down on his skin and turned his dark eyes into the warmest brown you had ever seen as they looked at you. His steps stuttered for a second before he stopped moving completely. You barely noticed his friend also stopping, looking confused at Peter, before you handed Gwen your cotton candy, and your legs began moving.

You snaked between groups of people, and he did the same, not letting anyone slow you down. Harry may have been calling your name as you left, but you didn’t look back or answer, not when Peter was mere feet away from you. You squeezed past another person before…

It was him, standing right in front of you, his chest heaving up and down.

It was only a heartbeat or two of looking at him, really looking, before you lunged at him to wrap him in a squeezing hug, his arms holding so tight to your body like he would never let go again. The flaming anger of his absence in your life was still lit in your stomach, but the light fizzled just a little when he whispered, “You’re here, you’re here,” over and over again.

He kept his hands wrapped around your arms when pulling back, his eyes looking you up and down as if he didn’t believe it was really you. You wanted to look away, just for a second to escape his intense gaze, but you couldn’t. He was here, and that was what mattered.

“Hi,” he breathed out, a permanent grin plastered on his face.

“Hey.”

“It’s you.” “It’s me. And, it’s you,” you laughed back, your hands gesturing up and down.

“Wow, I…” he started but cleared his throat. “I should introduce you to my friend,” he said while turning around, but the guy he was walking with was nowhere to be found. “I guess he left.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare off your friends.” It was mostly true, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel too guilty as you two walked back shoulder-to-shoulder to May, Gwen, and Harry. The way his skin brushed against yours felt foreign and like home at the same time, like your body discovering an old song again that brought back so many memories.

You heard May’s voice say, “Oh, that’s where she ran off to. She found the missing boy.”

A laugh tumbled from your mouth, and Gwen and Harry turned to look at you two. Harry opened his arms and patted Peter’s back, the two boys sharing a moment. When Peter finally turned to Gwen, she had her mouth pressed tight.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, how could you not tell us you were coming to ESU?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest. He scratched the back of his neck and mumbled some excuse, but she just laughed and welcomed him in after a second.

And you all then bombarded him, asking him where he lived, what his major was, where he’d been lately, and about his friends on campus. He easily answered all of them, except for a vague response as to why he’d been absent all the time, but you had given up on getting that out of him a while ago.

“I saw that MJ went to some out-of-state university. What was the name of it again?” Harry asked.

You saw Aunt May’s eyes cast downward as Peter let out a sharp sigh. “It was a college down in Florida, but we, um, we’re not together anymore,” he said, and your heart felt a bit weak at the way he got that glazed-over look again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to…” Harry trailed off, giving Peter a sympathetic look. Gwen also offered an apology, resting her hand on his arm.

He waved him off, “It’s okay. Long-distance isn’t really my deal.”

You all stood there, and you couldn’t stand the silence that no longer felt easy and comfortable. “Well, I hope cotton candy is still your deal. It was always your favorite,” you said and offered it to him.

A simple, grateful smile passed over his face, and he ripped off a piece, dropping it into his mouth. He thanked you and said, “I’m sure your guys’ dating lives were much more successful than mine.” He gave a small laugh, and you were sure he meant well, but it just made your heart ache even more.

Harry and Gwen talked about the few people they’d dated over the years. You stood there with your attention on them but stayed quiet yourself. As Peter glanced toward you, you were sure he noticed your silence. You hadn’t found anyone out West that your heart was set on, no one there to make you smile the way…

Gwen interrupted your train of thinking and asked you about what coffee shop you all should make your hangout spot. Making small talk with her and Harry, you were thankful for her distraction, both from the dating question and from your thoughts.

You caught a glimpse of May making silent faces at Peter during the conversation, her eyes widening and mouthing something. When the correct cafe was chosen, the unoriginally named Coffee Bean near campus, Peter cleared his throat and offered, “Hey, my roommates and I got a crappy projector a couple of weeks ago, if we wanted to have a movie night or something.”

Certain your wide grin looked a bit cheesy but not caring one bit, you readily accepted, excited for a classic movie night with your childhood friends again. Gwen and Harry agreed as well, and this was where you’d usually lose hope that it would actually happen, but Peter got out his phone to look at his calendar. Right then and there, the four of you made concrete plans for next Friday night.

Glancing over to the side, you saw May looking pleased, and you knew your face couldn’t look too far off. The five of you spent most of the day together, watching the football game but really paying more attention to catching up with each other. As the day came to an end, their laughs seared into your brain once again, the group split up again as May and Gwen’s family returned home, and Harry and Peter walked back to their own apartments.

Making your way back home, you strolled with Gwen arm in arm, and your steps almost felt a bit lighter. When the door shut behind you, you said to her, “I really can’t believe he’s here.”

“I know, right? He seems like he’s pretty happy. I’m so glad the gang's back together,” she responded, taking her shoes off and putting away her things.

“It’s so nice to talk to him,” you said, taking your shoes off as well. With a sigh, you muttered, “I hadn’t heard from him in so long, though that’s my own doing, really.”

“What do you mean?”

You picked at the edge of your nails, blowing out a long breath. “I blocked him when I left two years ago and didn’t tell anyone. It’s just… It hurt being let down by him all the time, and I said my goodbye in the letter. I know it was naive to come back here and not expect to see him, but I didn’t plan on attending the same school as him!”

She had been watching you as you paced back and forth and nodded, pursing her lips. “Well, if we’re going to all be friends again, you’re going to have to clear the air with him.”

“I know,” you groaned, putting your head in your hands. You felt bad, but he had to have known why you did it. He didn’t even show up to say goodbye and always blew you off. Later that night, curled in your bed and blankets, you finally unblocked his number with a deep breath out.

Part of you felt ready to talk to him about this and move past it, start a new era together. That part saw the way his eyes lit up when they locked on yours; it remembered how being with him felt like coming home. And as you scrolled through texts you had forced yourself to forget, the other part of you came back screaming and unwilling to be silenced. Nearly every other text was him saying he couldn’t make it to lunch or he had to skip out on plans. That part of you rolled its eyes at old jokes and memories you wanted to smile at.

Over the next week leading up to Friday, you went back and forth in your mind on what you would say to Peter. Your heart leapt into your throat every time you saw his oh-so-familiar face on campus, loving the way he smiled the second he saw you. Then, as soon as he passed, your pounding heart hardened – why couldn’t he have made this kind of effort years ago? Though you did realize he was so young then and still recovering from Uncle Ben’s murder, something you couldn’t imagine how to cope with.

But he could’ve at least talked to you. You nearly wanted to rip your hair out at this back and forth your mind went through. By the time Friday rolled around, you’d decided on staying true to your hurt feelings while being open-minded to what he had to say – determined to shoot for the middle. You just hoped your aim was good enough.

You thought you could pull him to the side before the night started, ripping off the bandaid with a quick conversation before restarting your friendship. But when you arrived with Gwen and Peter swung open that door, his warm eyes taking you in, your mind went quiet. Everything you’d planned to say went out the window as Gwen pulled you in by your arm, your feet feeling a bit stuck under Peter’s gaze. Harry, already sat on a plush bean bag chair, yelled, “Hey! Join the party!”

The apartment smelled of fresh popcorn, and Peter had set out a variety of snacks and drinks. You cautiously grabbed some provisions, voice quiet while the rest caught up before sitting down in the middle of the couch. Gwen sat on one side of you, Peter on the other.

You tightened your legs together, trying to shield yourself a bit from his body, too aware of the possibility of your knee touching his and the conversation you planned to have with him soon weighing over you. You wondered if this heavy rain cloud constantly over you was over him too – if he had thought much about you these past two years.

But once everyone was settled, the room dark and ready for the movie… the four of you ended up spending almost an hour just talking and joking. You reminisced about your favorite memories, finding your muscles loosening a bit as Harry brought up the story of you guys going to the skatepark for the first time.

Peter doubled over in fits of laughter and ragged breaths, and you couldn’t help but smile along with him. As he told the story, it slowly felt easier to sit next to him again. He pointed toward you and Gwen, saying, “I forced you to come to the skatepark and finally learn, but you both ended up falling so many times, I had to give you piggyback rides back to the car.”

Giggling, you added, “And I wanted you to skate with me on your back, but you wouldn’t!”

“You would’ve never forgiven me for eating shit and landing on you,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes.

Gwen, with her typical guffaw, said, “Then we made Peter buy us all ice cream to make up for the trauma he put us through.” She shook her head, “I’m still keeping my promise to never touch a skateboard again.”

After the laughter died down and too many stories were half-told before switching to the next, the popcorn bowl laid empty, and your ribs hurt from laughing so hard. Finally, you asked, “So, are we actually going to watch a movie?” before grabbing the remote. They agreed, but you passed over countless options, none of which could get all four of you to say yes to.

“Man, was it always this hard to pick a movie with you guys?” Harry asked, his legs laying over one side of the armrest, his head laying on the other.

Gwen responded, “No, because we were tweens and watched whatever movie was on cable at the time.” You nodded, a small grin appearing at remembering. Things sure did feel simpler then.

No one chose anything, so you said, “Okay, let’s just go with a classic. Who’s up for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

You all had seen it before, but still, everyone raised their hands, and you quickly pressed play before going to refill the large bowl with more popcorn. Ferris’s incredible opening monologue played when you sat back down, sending a few kernels flying. The four of you laughed at the aloof school secretary scenes and aww’d at Cameron’s sad pool scene. A heart-warming movie night needed a heart-warming movie, and it delivered.

And it feel just right, except for the goosebumps slowly littering your arms and legs, the A/C blowing onto your skin. Before you knew it, a soft blanket was placed on your lap, and you looked to your side to see Peter spreading it out on top of you. He whispered, “You seemed cold,” as he tucked in the ends around your legs. He left it at that as he turned back to the TV, and you hoped he didn’t see your warm cheeks despite your cold body.

Between the late hour and the comfy blanket, you had started nodding off near the end of the movie. Your eyelids kept opening and shutting during Ferris’s iconic scene of him running home before his family arrived. It was a classic, but things felt good again, and before you knew it, your body gave way to sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out when your eyes blearily blinked open. The world looked fuzzy, and there was just a soft glow from the TV to light up the room. The warm blanket made you want to snuggle in further and fall back asleep, but your “pillow” shifted slightly beneath you. With a stiff neck, you raised your head and squinted to see what was disturbing your comfortable sleep.

But it wasn’t a pillow. Peter looked down at you, his soft eyes humming with kindness. His hand came up to your face, rubbing a thumb across your cheek before coming away with a stray strand of hair. You already missed the warmth of his touch, but the way he looked back at you was enough.

You would have stared at him forever until you realized you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and eyeing his shirt, you saw that there was a small wet spot. You whipped your head around to find the TV was playing some sitcom on mute, but captions on, and Harry and Gwen weren’t in their spots anymore.

Turning back to Peter and bringing your hands to your face, you said, “I’m so sorry. I can wash your shirt if you want. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep…”

He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “You don’t have to wash my clothes. We’re at college now. I’ve had much worse on me,” he said, laughing at the way you crinkled your nose at his words. “Besides, it can be an equal trade for how adorable you looked while sleeping. Even when snoring like a trucker.”

“Hey! I do not snore like a trucker, thank you very much,” you declared, crossing your arms and hoping it somehow hid your warm cheeks and thoughts playing catch-up. Did he really think you were adorable while drooling on him? “Anyway, where did Harry and Gwen go?”

He let out a long yawn, his words coming out slow and muddled, “Oh, they went home a bit ago. It’s well past midnight.” “I was asleep for that long…?” you shook your head. You wanted to curse how comfortable Peter made you, how easy it was for him to break down these walls you had built, but as you watched the glow from the TV flicker across his face, illuminating every freckle he had, you couldn’t hate him for the way he made you feel. Though you found a soft dislike for the way your body always seemed to come back to his, like a satellite with no say in what it was programmed to revolve around.

As all of this ran through your head, Peter rested his chin on his knee, watching the way your eyes flicked back and forth, your lips moving to mouth some of the words you were thinking. It wasn’t until he called your name a few times that you looked up at him. He asked, “Are you okay?”

The sigh you slowly let out turned into a groan as you knew it had to be in this moment. It was just you two. “Peter, are we okay?” You stood up, unable to look at him or look at him looking at you while saying this. Your feet brushed against the itchy rug he had while pacing back and forth. “I just mean, there’s two years between us missing. I know it’s partly my fault, and I’m partly sorry, but I feel like there’s so much that just went unsaid.”

As the last words left your mouth, you turned back toward him to see he was now sitting cross-legged on the couch, fully alert. He brushed his hair back and blew out a breath. “Uh, yeah. I assumed we’d have this talk at some point; guess I wasn’t expecting it right after you drooled on me.” And he smiled when that got a small giggle out of you.

He continued, his smile quickly disappearing, “I’m assuming you blocked my number not too long after you left.” If he blinked, he would’ve missed the tiny nod you gave him or the way your eyes unfocused for a second. “Being honest with you… I called every day for weeks, hell, probably a couple of months. Texted you for even longer. I read your letter too late, just an hour too late,” he said, balling his hands up and pushing them against his forehead. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there.”

A tightness welled up in your chest, creeping up your throat as tears bubbled at the corner of your eyes. “God, I wish you had been there. I thought about what I’d say to you the whole car ride. How I’d finally give you a piece of my mind when we saw each other again…” You trailed off, head angling toward the ground.

“You thought about seeing me again?” he wondered, his body shifting forward ever so slightly, closer to you.

You scoffed. “Every lanky, brown-haired boy that came around, I just saw you for half a second,” you breathed out, fingers picking at the hem of your shirt.

His palms rubbed repeatedly against his thighs. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said, letting out a long breath. He raised his hands up, his palms toward you in a surrendering position. “Let me hear the speech. I deserve every word you have to say.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “I needed that time apart from you, but that’s the thing. Being away and now having you here, I don’t want to scream at you anymore. I just…” you trailed off, about to explain why you did what you did, but he nodded.

“I know. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, standing up from the couch to come to you, but you placed a hand out in front of you.

“No, Peter,” you said, taking a step back. “I really want to say you don’t know – that you have no clue – but maybe you do. I just, if we’re going to try again, I need you to do better this time around. Please,” you pleaded, your outstretched hand shaking.

His face flashed some sort of look you couldn’t decipher, but your racing mind didn’t help you in figuring it out. A mix of raised eyebrows, jaw slightly dropping, and eyes blinking just a bit too hard had your heart breaking. He looked down and sighed, “You’re right. I…” Pressing his mouth tight, he met your eyes for a brief second and then looked around the room. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be perfect, but I will be better. I swear.”

His words started out quiet but grew as he talked. “As long as you promise to not close yourself off and shut us out. Deal?” he asked, reaching a tentative arm out toward you.

You studied his fingers just breaths away from yours. Maybe it resembled the Creation of Adam painting, their outstretched hands nearly touching. Or maybe it looked more like a truce, a helping hand to pull you up and out… again. You focused on his rough skin as you slid your palm against his and grasped it, squeezing his hand tight and weakly shaking it. You whispered, “Deal.”

The second you said it, he pulled your arm, bringing your body close to his in one swift movement. As a squeak escaped your mouth, his arms wrapped around you, your bodies pressed tight together. “Is this okay?” he asked.

It felt strange, being so close to him again. But you couldn’t deny how much the familiar warmth of his body felt like home, and you nodded against him. He swayed with you on that ugly rug in the early morning even though you knew he was tired, and a few tears slid down your cheeks.

If he had asked why you were crying, you doubt you could explain it, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. You weren’t sure how long had passed like that, just letting his breaths raise his chest up and down against you, before a laugh came out of your mouth. He pulled back to look at you, asking, “What is it?”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your arm and said, “I’ve now soiled your shirt twice. Ugh, you make me a mess.”

“Um, pretty sure you're the one that made me a mess.”

“Oh, hush,” you said. And it was so nice to feel the rumble of his laugh so close against you as you curled into him again.

“Stay the night?” he asked, and he must’ve felt the way your heart jumped into your throat or how your stomach twisted in on itself because he immediately followed up with, “It’s just pretty late to walk back now. You can take my bed if you want. Or– Or the couch!”

“I can take the couch as long as I get to have that blanket.” The thought of sharing the bed with him played in the back of your mind, how close you two would finally be. But you had just vomited your feelings at him and cried on him, and you needed time to let your heart settle down.

“Of course,” he said, reassuring you that he’d leave the door open a crack in case you wanted to switch, and he began bringing out pillows, sheets, and extra pajamas in your size (though you wanted to question why he had them, they smelled just like him, so you didn’t complain). You thanked him, and when you had everything tucked into the corners and he had fluffed the pillow a bit roughly for your amusement, Peter stood just outside his room, rocking back and forth on his heels.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and stared at you. With a gentle smile, he asked in a bare whisper, “Friends again?”

Holding the pajamas close to your chest, you nodded, the edges of your eyes crinkling. “Friends again.”

His grin turned toothy and wide before wishing you a good night and walking into his room, leaving it open a few inches. You padded to the bathroom to change and get ready before snuggling into the comfortable couch. Maybe it was because Peter wasn’t next to you or because of the conversation, but your thoughts kept you from relaxing.

He really called you sweetheart… Did he usually do that to people? You didn’t think so, but it’d been two years. Maybe he’d changed. And he seemed really certain he would keep his promise this time, but how much can someone actually change? Your brain ran through a million scenarios of what might come from this night, and slowly, your mind tired itself out. You laid there on his couch, under his blanket, in his pajamas, next to him on the other side of the wall. Yeah, something had definitely changed between you two, and as you slipped into sleep, you hoped it was for the better.

You never understood those rom-coms where the actors woke up in the morning with perfect hair and their mind immediately awake. Your first moments of waking up involved your face scrunching tight and your body curling even tighter into the sheets as small crashing noises and muffled grumbling came from somewhere. Sunlight shined through the curtainless window right into your eyes, and your body felt out of place wherever you were, but it felt too early to care.

A floorboard creaking rang out into the room, and with resistant muscles, you turned around to face the back of the couch, pulling the blanket over your head. Distantly, you heard the sound of a door closing and the shower running. Just as your body relaxed again after a few minutes, the sound of something dropping reverberated through the whole apartment. With a sigh, you were sure the downstairs neighbor didn’t appreciate it and finally sat up.

Your hands came up to rub the sleep from your eyes, blurring your vision for a few seconds. Recognizing the room, all the memories waltzed back into your mind, your stomach fluttering for a second. When you heard the shower shut off, you called out, “Peter?”

There was another crash and a “Shit!” that was certainly Peter. His voice responded faintly, “Good morning! I, um, was just showering cause I worked out. I’ll be out in a second!”

You told him, “Okay, just don’t hog the bathroom too long!” You stood up, shuffling toward the kitchen for breakfast. Thoughts ran through your head while rummaging through the fridge and cupboards; he wasn’t the kind to squeeze in an early morning workout, especially after a late night. But he did look more… filled out than the last time you’d seen him. Maybe he had changed

Though, it didn’t seem he was that different because you couldn’t find much besides energy drinks and expired food. A partially crushed box of cereal sat in the back, but they didn’t have any milk. You stuck your head back in the fridge to double check when you heard hurried steps walk past behind you.

Standing back up and turning around, you said, “Peter, do you even own actual food or–” The door to Peter’s room slammed shut with a bang, and the bathroom door was now open with steam trickling out of it.

“Ah, didn’t mean to close it that hard! Sorry, just getting dressed,” he said with more frantic rustling coming from his room. “And no, we don’t really have food.”

You gave a small smile and shoved your hand into the box, pulling out a handful of cereal to eat. Looking around the apartment, you suddenly felt determined to help him with this place… somehow. Harry’s apartment didn’t look this much like a bachelor pad. You’d have to talk to him and Gwen about sprucing up Peter’s place, and supplying his kitchen.

Finally, the door to his bedroom opened up. Seeing Peter’s soft grin in the morning light felt different, like there was something to say — like the air itself and the small pieces of dust floating through it were yelling for something. He looked at you, laughing as your hand shoved back into the box. You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, “What’s so funny?” but he just weakly shook his head. “Those pajamas suit you well.”

“Suit me well?” you laughed. “What, am I a businessman trying on a new suit?”

He shuffled over and grabbed the box from you, leaving you with a hand clumping more cereal, a few pieces falling onto the floor. He shoved an excessive amount of cereal into his mouth while saying, “You know, I might’ve even said they looked cute on you. But you were sassy, so now you get treated like a businessman: ‘Give me a return on investment by 5 pm! Run it up the flagpole if you have to!’” he shouted, raising his finger into the air while giving a nearly perfect impression of J. Jonah Jameson, which left you bent over laughing.

“Analyze the company’s big data… I think. I’ve never taken a business class,” he finished, shrugging his shoulders before cramming more cereal into his mouth.

“Peter, I think you’re the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” you said and looked into his eyes, unable to contain the smile he etched on your face. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

With a matching grin, you two went and sat in the living room, relaxing and catching up for a bit longer. You threw bits of cereal back and forth to each other, trying to catch it in your mouths. After he had effortlessly caught 15 in a row, you got up grumbling about him rigging the game and walked to the bathroom to change clothes. You folded the pajamas neatly back in a pile and helped clean up the living room when you got back out.

As you finished tidying the room and putting on your shoes, you blew out a breath and walked to the door. “Okay, well, as much as I ‘love’ dry cereal for breakfast and wearing yesterday’s clothes, I’m going to head back. Thank you again for everything,” you said and watched him walk over to you.

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Do you need me to walk you back?” he asked.

But you weren’t really listening to his question, instead watching his steps. “Hey, are you okay? It looks like you’re limping a bit.”

He stopped in his tracks, looking down at his feet and sweatpants-covered legs. “Um, that’s just from the workout. Misstepped and hurt my ankle a bit, you know? Nothing too major,” he said, his hand rubbing up and down his forearm. “Is that a no then?” Your eyes widened before saying, “Oh, right. No, it’s not too far of a walk. I’ll see you around. And rest up, okay?”

When he nodded and his face softened, his gaze never leaving you, you were happy to escape out the door. Had he always looked at you like that? You let out a long sigh while walking down the hall, your fraying nerves calming down with each step back to your apartment.

Gwen had squeezed your hands when you told her how the conversation went, happy for the two of you and excited to have the friend group back. The four of you went to the campus cafeteria most days, ordering takeout other nights and watching more movies, playing games, or reminiscing on all the great memories shared between you.

Some days, it was only three or two of you – classes, work, and projects taking up everyone’s time. Peter made an effort to show up, and you kept to your promise of not shutting them out anymore, slowly communicating with them more and finding some independence in making friends from other classes.

On days Peter was altogether too busy, you’d offer to bring coffee, snacks, or a late dinner to him. The guy had received a science scholarship for ESU and had already completed beginner courses in biology, chemistry, and physics while in high school, easily landing him a position as a teacher’s assistant.

When Peter’s TA responsibilities filled up his lunch hour in between labs and classes, it quickly became your favorite time to bring him something, usually a toasted bagel and coffee with way too much caffeine. It meant you had to walk through the stuffy science building, but it also meant you got to stand at the open classroom door and watch him teach the class.

The first time you did this, you leaned on the doorway as he walked around a skeleton model at the front of the room. He pointed out different joints, explaining how the tendons connected the bones and allowed the body to move. Grabbing its hand, he spun it around, pretending to dance with it. Glancing at the students, you saw their quiet laughs and genuine interest as he went into great detail about how every part of your body worked together to make this possible.

Watching him in his element, his mind so fully present in what he was doing, made your heart flutter a little. You couldn’t help but love how attentive he was to each and every one of them… or love the way his arms and hands flexed when he gestured every which way. You weren’t sure if you had felt this way about Peter back in high school, but you chewed on your lip at the thought of some schoolgirl crush developing.

The thought solidified and sunk deep into your stomach when he finally turned your way, noticing the bag you held for him. The smile that grew on his face made a grin of your own appear. “Ah, my lunch has arrived…” he said, pointing toward you. “But first, class, what three bones make up the shoulder she’s using to lean on?”

You peered at the students, mouth feeling a bit dry at the sudden attention he’d put on you. A student toward the back raised their hand, answering, “The clavicle, scapula, and… humerus?”

Peter clapped his hands together, making you jump a little. “Correct! Now,” he said, walking over to you. He took the bagel from your grasp, tossing it perfectly onto his desk, and grabbed your hand in his. “Who can tell me what three main types of bones are in the hand?” he asked while spinning you around just as he did with the skeleton.

You heard a student give some sort of answer that was probably correct, but your eyes were stuck on Peter’s hand slipping away from yours far too soon. Had you not been twirling in front of a class of students, you would have held on tighter and pulled back against him. Instead, you walked back to the door, waving goodbye as Peter said, “Thank you – I’ll pay you back!”

His voice carried through the hallway as he got back to human anatomy with the class. You were sure you looked like some giddy teenager skipping across the floor, but you couldn’t help how good it felt to smile because of Peter again. Your hand was still hot from his touch, and you held it close, feeling it warm against your chest.

You kept these thoughts to yourself, not sure enough of them yet to tell Gwen. Though, that didn’t stop you from running through them again and again, especially when he was busy. You found yourself lost in replaying these conversations with him when walking downtown with Gwen and Harry one afternoon.

You had gone out to eat at a new diner, but commotion and people hurrying past you drew you toward a nearby street. As you turned the corner, you couldn’t believe the flash of red and blue you saw – your eyes finally saw the New York vigilante swinging above you. The three of you managed to catch a glimpse of Spider-Man flying through the air and over buildings to get to a car crash. You ran to catch up to him, watching the way he ripped open doors and grabbed people out, rushing them away from the crumpled vehicles.

You admired how he dove head first into the danger, risking himself for people he didn’t even know. Other people around you clapped and hollered as everyone laid safe. The excitement swelled in your chest and you couldn’t help but shout, “Way to go, Spider-Man!” with a wide grin.

It slowly dissolved from your face when his head whipped around and he looked at you three. You stopped clapping, your hands still resting against each other as the ground began shaking beneath your feet. Your arms flew out to hold onto Harry’s arm to keep your balance, but it didn’t help as a crash rang out through the streets, and you all fell to your hands and knees. Debris fell from above, and the unknown destruction sounded muffled against your ears.

Cutting through the shrill ringing came a voice shouting to run, hide, something. There he was. Inches from your face was Spider-Man lifting you up and guiding you away from whatever caused the destruction. You grabbed Harry and Gwen’s hands and ran in the opposite direction from the car wreck. Glancing back one more time before rounding the corner, you spotted the superhero turning to fight a monstrous lizard crawling on a nearby building.

Campus thankfully wasn’t far away, so you ran back to your apartment with heaving chests. Gwen locked the door behind you, which you all knew wouldn’t do much against a supervillain, but it still felt better than nothing. As soon as you checked over each other for any injuries, you fished your phone from your pocket and called Peter, your heart beating fast but not from running.

The phone rang, your feet pacing back and forth, back and forth. The phone kept ringing. You paced even faster. You groaned, saying, “It went to voicemail.” Your eyes caught the way Harry ran a hand through his hair once, twice, three times and the way Gwen worried her lip with her teeth as she turned on the news.

A second later, your phone buzzed, nearly making you drop it as your muscles tensed. It was a text from Peter. “Oh, okay, guys. Peter just texted,” you said, letting out a deep sigh as you scanned his message. “Turns out he’s TA’ing a class and can’t talk. Thank goodness.” You eyed your friends, and maybe it was in your head, but your body felt lighter, the air feeling easier to breathe.

It took a couple days for things to feel normal again, the news of the giant lizard man attacking the city everywhere, but thankfully Spider-Man was there to stop him for now. And you wished you could say things went back to normal with Peter as well, but your wary mind couldn’t help but notice his increasing absences since that day. Every missed movie night and unreturned call from him ate away at you.

You saw him here and there, still dropping off food to him while he worked late in the lab. But most of the smiles he caused were over text, the bright light of your phone not nearly as warm as him. Coffee Bean did officially become guys’ hangout, but the baristas working there really only learned three of your names, as Peter rarely showed. Most of the conversations you had with him included him updating that he was okay when one of you frantically called him during another attack near campus.

You invited him to on-campus events. To movie nights. To study sessions. To anything. You really tried to not shut him out or bottle up inside, but there was only so much you could express over text. The three of you planned to say something the next time he was around… but that’d require him showing up for more than a rushed “Hello! Gotta go!” as he ran past.

Wanting to keep your promise, you at least aired your concerns with Gwen and Harry, knowing that they missed his presence too. Selfishly, you wanted him back because you loved seeing him, but part of it was a growing worry festering in your chest. A couple times when you tried to surprise him with food while he was teaching, he hadn’t been in the class when he said he was. None of you could figure out where he went.

One morning, you had felt jaded again, angry that Peter was slipping away once more – even after his promise. You’d say it happened right before your eyes, but he was rarely in front of you anymore. It felt distant, as cold as the blanket of snow built up in these cold months. Your fingers typed a long paragraph to him, using every bit of strength to pry your arms open and keep yourself from closing in on themselves. It was a rambling message full of fragment sentences and thoughts, but still, it was kind. Anger trickled down to your fingertips, but you would not let that spread into the words you wrote him and wouldn’t let them go near that block button either. More than anything, you wanted to pry him open, look him in the eyes to ask what had changed, what he wasn’t telling you.

That afternoon during one of your classes, he sent a short text. All it said was, “Sorry. Will make it up to you. Be there tonight”

A deep breath filled your lungs, pushing in so deep it began to hurt before forcing it all out in one go. You read it again and again, but the words didn’t somehow magically change by the tenth read-through. What time? Should you invite Harry over? Gwen was gone for the week visiting home – should you tell her Peter’s finally coming over?

These thoughts ran through your head, but you left his message as it was. After class, you tried working on homework, though your mind wanted to focus on anything else. Worksheets were sloppily finished, notes on readings sparse, and essays were just mere outlines, unable to put your everything into anything with the thought of Peter hovering above you. You made dinner somewhere in there while waiting, “accidentally” making enough for two in case he came around. But as the sun dipped below the city’s skyline and bled out beautiful colors among the clouds, and the food grew cold, he was nowhere to be seen. Again.

Unable to spend much more time concentrating on school, you spent the evening scrolling through your phone, scrolling through Netflix, scrolling through channels hoping to find something to catch your attention. The news popped up during your searching. It showed breaking live footage of another battle between Spider-Man and the monster he’d been facing, The Lizard. Knowing Gwen was far away and safe, you texted Peter and Harry for their update. Harry quickly answered, saying he was hanging out with his roommate in his apartment. Peter never answered.

You reassured yourself this was how he usually was lately and that he was okay. The phone laid next to your lap in case he texted back as you watched a recent scene of the events: Spider-Man being tossed against a building, his body smashing through brick and window with a loud crash and screams ringing in the background.

Everything in you winced at the footage, your shoulders leaning forward as you inched to the edge of the seat, waiting with bated breath for him to reappear. A web shot from the hole and wrapped itself around the monster, Spider-Man flying out with a ripped suit and limping movements. He landed one hit after another. They went back and forth, and as your leg began shaking more and your palms felt sweatier, you had to turn the TV off before it freaked you out too much.

You tried to focus on something else, but as your thoughts meandered from the news, they instead drifted back to Peter. The promise you made yourself in the car years ago to never let him make you feel this way again was splintering into cracks, threatening to break altogether. You dug your nails into your palm, leaving crescent marks into your skin. In the back of your mind, you thought of Aunt May. What would she do right now? With that, you got up, making your way to the kitchen for a late-night snack and distraction.

The apartment soon filled with pans clanging, and billowing clouds of flour puffed into the air. Soon, after everything was mixed, you poured the batter into a pan, the bubbling and sizzling wafting to your ears. The chaos of the kitchen almost made you miss a knocking sound. It wasn’t until you heard your name frantically called that you realized it was Peter’s voice. Glancing at the clock, you saw how late it’d gotten. With a sigh, trying not to burn the place down, you called out, “Peter, I don’t really want to talk right now.”

The tapping grew louder, and you realized he was knocking against your window. You looked toward it, seeing a shadowy figure lying against the glass. Quickly removing the pan from the stove and turning it off, you ran to the fire escape. The second you saw through the reflection, your feet stumbled below you, your body coming to an abrupt stop. Fingers wrapped in red and blue pulled the window open before he nearly flopped inside your apartment. A duffle bag fell with him, a pair of high tops tied together around the straps by their shoelaces.

A rush of cold air drifted into the apartment while he laid on the floor, his hands rising up and down on his chest – a chest covered by Spider-Man’s logo. His mask was off, and there was no mistaking that tangled mess of hair. He let out a small laugh, then groaned at movement. “Are you making wheat cakes?”

“Peter… I,” you started, your mouth not keeping up with your racing mind.

“I am starving. Could you bring me some? And maybe some syrup,” he coughed out, lolling his head to the side with deep breaths. Snowflakes that had been resting on him shimmered to the floor when he turned.

“Are you okay?” You winced, your eyes shutting for a moment before saying, “Sorry, dumb question. Should I grab the first aid kit?”

He lifted himself onto his elbow, turning to look at you. “Uh, yeah. That’d probably be a good idea, after bringing some wheat cakes first, though.”

Your legs moved under you to first close the window to keep him warm and safe, then toward the bathroom to grab all the supplies. Your brain simply went through a checklist of everything you desperately needed, leaving no room for questioning what Peter had just unveiled to you. You passed the kitchen on the way back, quickly grabbing a plate of wheat cakes as you sprinted by. Maybe it would help him heal and restore his energy, or maybe you just knew it’d make him happy.

He shoved his bag to the side and crawled up onto the couch, remembering to grab a blanket and put it under him to not damage the couch. With stiff arms, he unclasped the suit top from the bottoms, trying to rid the tight shirt from his body. You came back, setting the kit and plate on the table to help him take it off. He lifted his upper half, letting you slowly pull it up his back and over his head.

A hard swallow forced itself down your throat as you saw him. Deep purple bruises bloomed all along his body, especially his ribs. A long gash curled from his stomach and around to his lower back. As you let out a shaky breath, Peter asked, “That bad, huh?”

“Well, it’s not great,” you said, your eyes never leaving the wound. “Do you know how to stitch yourself up?”

His eyes looked to yours, weakly blinking. “Yeah, but I’m not sure–”

“Can you teach me? Coach me through it, and I’ll stitch this thing closed for you.” You opened up the kit, so god damn thankful Gwen got one with suturing supplies – encouraged by her police officer father.

Before doing anything else, you sanitized your hands and grabbed a washcloth, running it under water with a little bit of soap. You brought it back to him, looking at his pained face and wanting to cry. You instead sucked in a breath and said, “I’ll help shift you onto your side. Ready?”

He nodded, digging his teeth into his lip as the two of you maneuvered him on his side to face you, the wound exposed upward to the heavens. You gave him one hand to hold onto yours and began dabbing the washcloth on the wound to clean it out.

He seethed, every breath in or out sharp and abrupt. “I’m so sorry. I’m almost done with this part,” you told him.

You felt his thumb rub your hand. Your eyes flicked to his for a moment as he repeated, “It’s okay, it’s okay” every time you touched the cloth to his skin.

Blinking a few times, you shook your head. He was comforting you? And he’s Spider-Man? Your mind was reeling, but you just turned back to the first aid kit, pulling away from him.

Peter pointed to the needle you needed, and you threaded it. With shaking fingers, he pointed to where you should insert the needle, where it should exit, and how to tie off the knot.

You nodded, trying to memorize every instruction he told you. Still, while staring at the cut and shivering at the thought of the claws that caused it, your movements felt uncertain. You moved the needle toward his skin, but your hands were uneven and unable to keep still. As you closed your eyes and let out a long breath, everything felt like it was crumbling, and it was a Monday night. You couldn’t believe this disaster wasn’t on Tuesday.

“Peter, wait, now I’m not sure. This is insane. You’ve been gored by a lizard man! I don’t have the necessary medical training to heal Spider-Man! I’m going to throw up, or pass out. I’m not sure which. I…”

Your rambling trailed off as you felt Peter’s hand close around yours. He squeezed it and moved it toward the starting stitch. “Look at me,” he rasped. Any weakness he seemed to have disappeared when your eyes connected, a tired smile gracing his face. “I’m right here. You’re doing great.”

“I could accidentally kill you!”

“You’re not going to kill me. Please, just do it quickly,” he pleaded.

You brought your hands away from his, pushing the back of them against your head with your eyes squeezed shut tight. Pounding loud in your chest, your heart thrummed through your whole body, all the way to your vibrating fingers. Tears began to peak at the edges of your eyes as you said, “I shouldn’t be the one doing this. Why not go to Harry? Or May? Oh, I wish she were here. I’m not good enough to do this, Pe–”

His hands grabbed the sides of your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you.”

Your eyes opened to find him staring at – into – you, no joking or laughing anywhere on his face. Instead of a million thoughts bouncing around in your brain, it settled into nothing as you studied the specks in his warm eyes. You weren’t sure if your heart was speeding up or slowing down as your mouth opened to yell at him for making such a confession at this time, but he brought your hand down to his side and pushed the needle into his skin with a sharp breath.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you repeated with no choice but to stitch him up all the way now.

His body tensed with each pointed stitch, but he kept your mind from twisting itself into a nasty knot again. “Keep going; it’s okay. God, I’m so glad you’re okay.” His gaze was trained on the wall behind you, though you wished he was watching your sutures. He breathed out a long sigh and said, “That day the three of you nearly got hurt downtown when The Lizard attacked… In that split second, I thought you were all going to die, and I wouldn’t be able to save you. Me, the superhero.”

“Peter.”

“I couldn’t let that happen. Not after Uncle Ben,” he sighed, his breaths becoming more ragged. “After that day, I came back here every night to make sure you were alright.”

“Peter. It’s okay,” you told him, eyes trained on his for a second before returning to the injury. “We’re okay.”

You heard him sniffle a bit, and you knew it wasn’t from the stitches. As you tied off the last knot, you examined your work. Though his wound was closed with uneven sutures, it would hold. You whispered, “It’s all done.”

You disposed of the dirtied supplies, coming back to bandage him with clean hands. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to lift him into a sitting position, his throat rumbling with a strained groan. You grabbed gauze and spun it around and around his torso, making sure it fit well.

Collapsing into the couch next to him, you pressed your forehead against his, your body sighing into him. You tried ignoring how warm and hard his chest felt rising up and down against you. “Please tell me that was the worst one.”

He gave a small laugh. “God, I hope that was the worst one.”

You stood up, ignoring his whine of protest with a pained heart. Searching for clothes, you found a stray shirt and pants to fit him. You grabbed ice packs and water on the way back and syrup for his now-cold wheat cakes. “Okay, arms up,” you ordered, putting his arms and head into the shirt with gentle movements.

“Now let’s get you into something looser than skinny jeans,” you said. You laughed at how tight the suit was, but your laughs quickly turned to grunts as you struggled to peel the pants off of him without hurting him.

After a minute or so, they finally released the poor boy’s legs. You gently moved his lower half this way and that, checking for anything needing immediate attention. In finding nothing but bruises and light scrapes, you helped him into pants that allowed a bit more breathing room.

You laid some ice packs on the most bruised parts of his body, your attention away from his movements. When everything sat in the right place, you looked at his face to find him stuffing his mouth full of room-temperature wheat cakes with no syrup.

With a full mouth, he said, “These are so good; May taught you well.” He swallowed and motioned his head toward the bag he brought in with him. “Speaking of May, I can’t have her seeing me like this or my roommates. So I shoved some clothes and a toothbrush in a bag. Could I crash here for a couple days? I know Gwen’s gone for the week. Oh, and I forgot toothpaste. Could I borrow some?”

You laughed at his messy mumbling. “How’d you know Gwen was gone? Spider-Man is a stalker, I see,” you teased. “But yes and yes. I can’t believe you packed an overnight bag while bleeding out.”

“I wasn’t bleeding out. ‘Tis but a flesh wound,” he laughed but quickly groaned as the movement pulled at his stitches. “An annoying flesh wound though.”

Shaking your head, you sat on the edge of the couch next to him, letting his body lean into yours. Your fingers came up to brush his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. “Hey Peter…” you said.

He hummed in response around the food.

“You really should’ve told us about this.”

You weren’t sure you’d ever heard a gulp as audible as his, his head slowly turning to look at you. Grabbing the water from the end table, you gave it to him and watched how he downed the whole thing in one go before setting it on the floor.

He let out a deep breath and said, “I know.” With all his strength, he pushed himself back up to stare eye-to-eye with you. “Though, I really hope you can understand why I didn’t at first.”

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. “I do.”

A hand came up to rub across his grimy face. “I was just so mad at the world for what happened to Ben, mad at myself. And by the time I picked my head up out of my ass, you were gone. I’m sorry.”

Bringing him in for a hug, you whispered, “I hope you’ve forgiven yourself, Peter. You deserve it.” You rubbed your hand along his back and felt his head loll against your neck, his mouth letting out a content sigh. “We are absolutely not done with this conversation. Though, we really have to get you to bed.”

You cleaned up everything Spider-Man–related into his bag and lifted him up as well as you could. The laces on his shoes unraveled, the high tops clattering to the floor. You were about to pick them up when Peter sleepily whined, pushing the two of you toward your room. Using enough of your strength to hold him and the bag, you left the shoes and shuffled across the apartment one slow foot at a time. His body wanted to simply fall onto the bed, but you let him down gently and pulled the sheets over him. Making sure he was settled first, you stood up to walk out of the room.

“Wait,” he said, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. “I’m not letting my best nurse sleep on the couch I bled on. Stay with me,” he pleaded with a hand reaching out toward yours.

A smile grew across your face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m just going to refill your water,” you told him.

You threw the dirtied blanket into the washing machine and quickly brought back a full glass, your chest feeling an ache as soon as your bodies were apart. When you came back, you gingerly settled into the bed next to him, careful as to not bump into any of his injuries. He seemed much less caring as he threw a sore arm over your body and pulled you in close.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “For everything.”

Finally, after a night that would not let either of you rest, his body relaxed against yours. You were sure being this close to him would freak you out, keeping your mind awake for hours. But feeling his heart beat against your body and his hand rest along your skin– and the life-threatening situation he brought through your window – you quickly grew tired. His breathing deepened, and you whispered a final, “I love you too” before drifting in and out of sleep in his arms.

Normally, it would be your blaring alarm or students talking unnecessarily loud in the hallways, but today, it was the sound of a key clicking into the apartment lock and the door creaking open that your mind was first aware of that morning. You sleepily blinked your eyes open once, ready to pull the covers over your head and stay there forever. It was when Peter’s nose nuzzled into the back of your neck that you shot up in bed.

Gwen was here.

He groaned next to you, mumbling, “What is it?” He sleepily grumbled other words, but you couldn’t make it out as you slapped a hand over his mouth. Your eyes glanced around the room at the various pieces of Peter’s suit and looked over at his body clad in your clothes. With wildly disheveled hair and raised eyebrows, he looked between your hand on his face and your eyes. You couldn’t imagine how you looked or what Gwen would think of Spider-Man or Peter in your bed.

She must’ve heard your guys’ movements because she quietly called your name, and three gentle knocks tapped against your door. Thankfully, Peter had finally caught on and rushed to sit up and grab his things. But as his body stretched, the stitches on his no-longer-forgotten wound pulled against his skin. He shoved his face into his arm, stifling his groan as best as he could. Nearly forgetting about Gwen, you were about to go take care of Peter when she knocked again, her voice drifting through the door.

“Are you up?”

Peter waved his hand for you to keep moving as he gently flopped back on the bed to breathe for a few seconds. You called out, “Yeah, be right there!” as you threw on a sweatshirt and kicked his suit and anything red or blue under your bed. You straightened out yourself, trying to make yourself look somewhat presentable before looking back at Peter. He had stood up, fingers resting against his injured side while leaning against the wall.

For a brief moment, you just watched the way sunlight drifted in on his body. His hair flopped almost over his eyes, the warm brown of them feeling like home. He cracked a smile, and you hoped he was thinking about you the same way you thought of him, like as long as he was here, it would be alright. You finally broke from the trance he always had you under when he mouthed, “Go!” while shifting close to your closet, out of the way of the view from the door.

Letting out a quick breath, you brought your hand to the doorknob and inched it open, poking just your top half out. Your eyes squinted at the bright hallway, not that Gwen’s platinum hair and her even whiter smile helped. “Oh, sorry! Did I wake you up?” she asked.

“No, I was just relaxing in bed before starting the day,” you lied. “What are you doing back?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a long groan. “It’s been a real shit show, and a long story. My professor won’t let me take my class online because… I don’t even know why. So I said I’d come back today just for this class before going back home again,” she huffed out and rubbed a hand over her face. “Anyway, he said we need our laptops today, and I forgot my charger. Well, Simon took it out of my backpack without telling me, so… Would I be able to borrow yours for class? I’m sorry, do you need yours at the moment?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “No, my classes aren’t until a bit later. I’ll grab it for you.”

She grabbed your hand that wasn’t tight on the door knob while saying, “Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you!”

Normally, you would just leave the door open, and she’d walk into your room. You slowly nodded, saying with an unsure smile, “Do you mind just staying here for a second? It’s a real mess that you don’t need to look at while I’m searching for the charger.”

Letting out a loud laugh, she said, “Since when do I judge for a slightly messy room? Actually, don’t answer that. But you know I don’t care that much.”

“I’m just a bit embarrassed about it,” you told her, pressing your mouth into a tight line. Your hand stayed on the door, not budging it open even though your heart beat too fast at lying to Gwen.

For a few seconds, her eyes widened and she cocked her head. You were afraid you’d made her worried for your health until a sly smile grew across her face. “Wait a second,” she said, her voice then dropping to a whisper. “Do you have someone in there?” Her voice carried a wave of excitement as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, and again. You looked back into the room, eyes searching for Peter, but he must have stuffed his poor body into the closet. Letting out a sigh, you said in a hushed tone, “Okay, yes. I brought back a guy, but he’s still sleeping.”

Gwen let out a tiny squeal, “On a Monday night? You jezebel!”

You hushed her with a grin. “Please don’t embarrass me. If this goes well, maybe I’ll even get to introduce him to you guys. Now let me go get my charger!” you laughed out.

Shutting the door, you nearly stumbled back from it toward your desk where your charger would usually be, but it wasn’t there. As you glanced around the room for it, you turned your head at hearing the smallest clearing of the throat. Peter was indeed standing in the closet, but his hand was outstretched, holding your charger for you. He whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You mouthed, “It’s okay,” before snatching it from him and returning to the door. You cracked it open just a little and said, “Okay, Gwen. Here it is.”

She stood up on her tippy toes, eyes searching for the mystery man inside your room but returned to the heels of her feet with a huff. Grabbing the charger, she pointed a finger at you. “You are telling me everything when I get back from class.”

You promised her you would before waving goodbye and shutting the door, the sound of her steps growing quieter joining your shallow breaths. The weak wood thudded when you dropped your head back against it, your hands rubbing down your face. When you finally looked up again, ready to face the dreary clouds of the situation you’d found yourself in, you instead opened your eyes to see the most beautiful sunshine ever as Peter stepped a few inches from your face.

His hands wrapped around yours, bringing them to his mouth. Keeping his gaze on you, he kissed each of your knuckles with such tenderness, it made your heart sigh with happiness. “Thank you for that,” he said, letting out an airy laugh.

He brought his forehead down to yours, resting it there as your bodies just swayed together, taking in the moment of being so close to him. He breathed out, “You know, I wasn’t kidding about yesterday.” His throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his chest heaving a bit higher with each inhale as you felt his heart pound a bit faster. “I do love you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to hold his gaze while he laid his heart so open and bare. The moment that had just felt silly and carefree shattered, the broken mirage reminding you of yet another disappointment. With Gwen now gone, you could have talked normally, shouted at him about the way he kept fading away from you, but your voice stayed quiet. “Peter,” you whispered with a shaky breath.

Before your heart got away from you, you forced your body to steel any nerves and look him in the eyes despite your fluttering stomach. Your teeth dug into your lip to keep growing tears at bay. “...Peter, I don’t know if I have another chance in me. I can’t handle the secrets and going days without knowing if you’re even alive.”

You might as well have told him you hated him and would never love him back with the way his face dropped. His throat bobbed as his mouth pressed into a tight line. “I promise there aren’t any more secrets. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, I swear,” he said, begged, as his hands came up to your face.

But you turned your head to avoid his touch. A weak sob broke through your resolve as you said, “You promised before, Peter. I need to know this is different… because we’re different. I can’t risk a broken heart on top of losing you.”

His whole body stilled for just a moment, the air around you two freezing, before his movements exploded. He nodded feverishly, looking around the room for something, anything he could show that he could prove to you. He dug under the bed and grabbed his Spider-Man mask, his fingers gripping hard into the fabric. “I swear, if I start to drift away again or let you think for even a second that you don’t deserve the whole world, I will give it up. I won’t be Spider-Man anymore.”

Your fists balled into themselves. “You can’t do that. These people need Spider-Man. They need you.”

“I don’t care. Not if you don’t need me too.” His words might as well have been hands clasped together in a desperate plea, a prayer for you to take this risk with him. It was when he slowly shifted down onto one knee and then the other, his fingers coming to his side with a soft groan. In a second, he forgot about his injury and reached his arms out wide, offering his entire being to you. “I love you.”

He looked like an angel, his arms spread open like wings being bathed in the morning sunlight behind him. A laughing sort of scoff escaped your mouth, but nothing was funny. His doe eyes stared up at you as he was ready to give up everything just so he wouldn’t disappoint you again.

Even though your stomach felt uneasy, from nerves or maybe elation, and your thoughts wanted to race, analyze his words and intentions and meaning and, and… you knew one thing without having to think about it.

“I love you too, Peter.”

He released a breathy laugh, his hands slowly dropping back to his sides. You helped him back up to his feet. His fingers reached for your own as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Against your skin, he mumbled, “Yeah? You mean it?”

You couldn’t control the wide smile growing across your face. “I love you so much, Peter.” Happy, emotional tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, a laugh-cry shaking your shoulders.

He pulled back, his eyes looking just as watery. “I’d be lost without you,” he said, bringing his hands around to your back, pulling you tight against him. “You were always there for me, guiding me through life like a star since that day in biology. I know I haven’t always been there for you, but I promise that’s done,” he told you.

With a sheepish smile, he said, “Though maybe I should make that promise after this demon lizard is taken care of…”

For once, as you hugged Peter like you would never let him go again, you believed him. “Like a star, you say?” you asked.

“Yep, the brightest and nicest and most beautiful shining star there is,” he said, nodding against your face.

“You know, I always thought of you as the sun, always lighting up my life whenever you were in it,” you told him. Your breath hitched just a bit as he pressed small kisses against your cheek. “It’s you and me. The sun and the star.”

“I love that. Together, we’re unstoppable. The best couple there is, clearly,” he bragged, making you laugh but also swoon at him already calling you a couple. He continued, “Though the sun is a star, so maybe we need to clarify that to people.”

Your mouth pressed in a tight line, pulling back to look at him. “Peter?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

He mouthed a giggly “sorry.” His nose nudged against you, and the smile ran away from his face as he said, “I’m so sorry for not being there for you. I swear, I’m going to make it up to you every day of my life. Starting now.”

You were content to let him make it up to you by staying in his embrace for as long as possible, leaving the world outside for a bit. But with his hands still resting at your lower back, his eyes gave an unreadable expression – until they glanced to your lips and back. Shuffling his feet forward, he pressed your bodies even tighter. He brought one hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his warm palm, humming.

In barely a whisper of words, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Unable to control the happiness and nerves bubbling in your chest, you instantly breathed out, “Yes, Peter. Please.”

The widest grin you’d ever seen permanently attached itself to Peter’s face as he leaned in, so incredibly slowly. His mouth rested right in front of yours, begging you to make the move. You nearly did, body wound tight enough to lunge forward at him, when you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing again.

Gwen’s voice carried through the apartment as she said, “Just came back for my water bottle. Be safe, kids!” A loud giggle came from the kitchen, making you laugh as well. But just as you thought she would finally leave, she called your name again.

Letting out a long groan, you brought your forehead against Peter’s before yelling, “Yeah?”

“What are Peter’s shoes doing here?” she called back. Your head shot up, wide eyes staring at Peter, who matched your expression. You had forgotten about the shoes… The two of you opened your mouths, stuttering as you tried to come up with some believable excuse.

But then you heard Gwen let out a deep gasp, and you both flinched at the noise. Your bodies then scrambled when you heard her shoes stomp toward your room, but you locked it right before they stepped in front of the door.

“Unlock this door!” she said while pulling at the handle.

“Gwen, I am not going to open that door. And you have class you don’t want to miss,” you said, chewing on the inside of your mouth, eyes locked on the doorknob.

She eventually stopped trying to break your door down and said, “Fine, but we are so talking about this when I get back.” You agreed, and her steps began to turn away when she called out, “See you later, Peter!”

Before you could do anything, the boy behind you shouted, “Bye Gwen!” You turned on him with wide eyes and your jaw jutting out. Gwen started laughing uncontrollably, making Peter squeeze his eyes shut and clamp a hand over his mouth. Her giggling soon retreated as the front door opened and closed.

You sighed out, fingers rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Peter…”

He brought his hand from his face, saying, “I know. But they were going to figure it out one way or another. There’s no keeping Gwen from sleuthing.”

You knew he was right but still shook your head. “Yeah, at least we can control when they find out about your secret double life,” you laughed out. “Though now she thinks we slept together and I lied to her about it,” you said, moving to lightly whack his arm, but with quick reflexes, he caught your hand and pulled your body close to his.

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “We could sleep together, and then it would be less of a lie. I think,” he said, trailing off and placing your hands behind his neck before letting go.

“I’m not sure that math checks out, bug boy.”

“I am not a bug boy.”

“Either way, webhead,” you said, feathering your fingers through his hair, pressing your body even closer. “How are we supposed to sleep together when we haven’t even kissed yet?” you said, purposely fluttering your eyelashes at him.

He brought his head to yours, his lips right in front of yours again, saying, “You are going to be the death of me, you know that?” His hands moved to the sides of your face, his fingers brushing along the column of your neck.

In an instant, your mind wanted to run away with every “What if” there was. What if this ruined your friendship? What if this changed everything with Gwen and Harry too? What if he didn’t keep his promise? What if…

As his lips pressed against yours, it all went silent, your heart soaring through the air, ready to take this leap of faith with him. And God, you finally wanted to. His arms held on tight to your body, like having an inch between your bodies would let you disappear. You got lost in his soft mouth and the daze he put you under until he deepened the kiss, pushing the air from your lungs, and you could have sworn your legs were working a second ago. Thank goodness his hands moved toward your hips, his palms snaking around to hold your weight. A yelp squeaked from your mouth as his fingers pressed into your flesh and hoisted you into the air.

You held onto him, his muscles tight against your body as he flopped back onto your bed, your body on top of his. You laughed against his lips, “You were just on your knees moaning and groaning about your injury. Now you’re all fine to lift me like it’s nothing?”

He smiled up at you, and you knew that you wanted to see that lovestruck grin on his face every day. “I was being dramatic to make you feel bad for me. Did it work, sweetheart?”

The way his mouth curled around the word sweetheart maybe should have sounded suggestive, but it brushed over your skin with such tenderness, wrapping you in with its softness. You leaned your head down to his, watching the way he stared at your lips. Finally giving in, you laid against him, kissing again and again and again, your heart not quite believing this wasn’t a dream.

You pulled away, breaths mingling together and resting your head against his cheek. You blinked your eyes open and cocked your head slightly to the side. “Hey, Peter.”

His eyes were still gently closed and his face nuzzling into yours, unable to bear being apart from your mouth for long. Against your lips, he muttered, “Hmm?”

Your hands came to his jaw, your thumb rubbing along the bone in smooth waves. “What day is it?”

He took a second to think, like his mind was anywhere but what god damn day it was when you were right here. His brain caught up after a moment, him mumbling, “Uh, Tuesday, I think.”

His eyes finally opened, staring into yours like it was the last thing he’d ever see, the one thing keeping him alive. Every blink he took, missing your face for even a heartbeat, was a shock to his body he never wanted to feel again. And he wouldn’t have to. A grin grew on your face, and you knew it was no match for the breath of fresh air, the sunshine of his smile. Smiling like he used every bit of his heart to do.

You quietly thanked the universe for working in these wonderfully mysterious ways. As you brought his face back to yours, you couldn’t wait to spend every Tuesday and the rest of your life with Peter.

@enaraism

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #spiderman #The Amazing Spider Man #tasm andrew garfield #andrew garfield spider man #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker

236 notes · View notes

helloheyhihowdyheya · 2 years

Text

On a Tuesday | p. 1 of 2

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 8,700!

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns. Fluff. Eventual friends to lovers in the next part. Hurt and eventual comfort. Angst (a lot of angst, but it gets better). Uncle Ben’s death.

A/N: This story is a bit sadder than my other ones (sorry) but I really enjoyed playing with these characters and following their friendship over the years. Oh and I made some canon changes, like meeting Gwen and Harry in middle school rather than college. Thank you for reading, I love hearing what you guys think! <3

The universe had a funny way of working. Sometimes, it seemed ironic, leaving you with nothing to do but shake your head with a disbelieving sigh. And sometimes, the universe, purposeful and downright cruel or just bluntly uncaring, sharpened into a deadly point cutting along your heart and laughing in your pain.

It felt especially serrated at school. You had never enjoyed it all that much, mostly because of how lonely the hallways felt, despite how fast they moved as shoulders hit against yours without care or apology. Your parents also required a lot of help around the house with their double and triple shifts, your already bruised shoulders feeling too much weight as you ran home right after school to be there for them. This didn’t leave much time for friends, and the world felt safer if you kept your head down, slinking into your seat while avoiding anyone’s eyes.

By the time your parents found better jobs, and you finally got the courage to pick your head up, everyone had already made their friend groups, none of which included you. You spent the first day of middle school eating lunch by yourself and walking home with quick steps until the door shut behind you. The days passed this way, weeks and months alone in an isolating school ready to eat you whole.

It wasn’t until an overcast Tuesday well into the year that your life changed, though you didn’t know it at the time. Outside the classroom, the clouds allowed the dirty spring snow to rest a few days longer in its shadows, but you could see tiny blades of grass fighting to poke through into the light.

You would never admit it, but you thought back to that day a lot, the moment you officially met your saving grace. Sitting in biology, you were grouped into pairs for a project. This wasn’t the first time, but they had all been different. You would get the assignment done, keep the talking to a minimum, and hope that saying less would make the days pass easier.

But on that day, the teacher called your name along with Peter Parker’s. You had seen him around school before, always with his cute floppy head of hair and goofy smile talking to his friends Gwen and Harry. You had grabbed the project sheet and sat at a table next to him, beginning to hastily write in your notebook a list of ideas for the project. You planned to just push it over to your partner at the end and let him decide, but before you finished, you saw the eraser end of a pencil tap the top of your notebook. And finally, after too long spent shielding yourself from the clouded sky, you lifted your head to look at sunshine come to life.

Peter grinned, tilting his head at you. “I was going to ask if you wanna brainstorm ideas, but it looks like you’re already almost done,” he said.

You looked between the notebook and him, stuttering, “Oh, um, yeah, we can brainstorm if you want. What are you thinking?” You held your pencil above the paper, ready to record any ideas he said. You felt the way your hand shook a little, not used to making actual conversation with another student or the way his gaze felt on you.

He listed off a bunch of ideas, some far too advanced for this class and others that actually sounded interesting. You two decided on a project based on the spherification process, turning different drinks into semi-solid balls that can pop in your mouth like candy. The way he waved his hands in the air describing the principles that made this possible made you smile, excited for something school-related for once.

As the bell rang, Peter began packing up his things, hastily shoving everything crumpled into a ball into his backpack. “We can talk more about it at lunch if you want – my friends and I usually eat near the back,” he told you, practically offering you a hand up out of the hole you sat in with just his words. He said, “They’re gonna love talking to you!” while waving goodbye.

You gave a weak wave, your voice not quite finding the words to respond before he was gone. Watching him walk out of the classroom, his backpack still open and papers nearly falling out, you smiled and let out a breath you had been holding since the start of the year.

You thought back to that day as the start of so much. Peter’s friends really did love having you around, all three of them waving you over to their table at lunch. Gwen made it her mission to become your friend, determined to get some space from these obnoxious boys. They made you laugh and smile until your face hurt, and you sat there grateful for Peter and his neverending kindness toward everyone, especially you.

Gwen asked about your favorite color, where you lived, and what pets you had. But Harry, with a cold cafeteria pizza in his mouth, asked, “Okay, but if you turned into a dragon, what would it look like? Because we’ve all chosen our dragons. Mine would be white on the bottom and dark on the top like a killer whale, so it couldn’t be seen by prey or enemies.”

You thought about the question, a tad worried he would take your answer very seriously, but Peter said in between bites of applesauce, “Harry, whales are colored that way so they’re not visible from the top or bottom. Who is going to see your dragon body from the top if you’re flying all the time?”

“I’m sure there’d be humans coming to hunt me while I’m on the ground feasting!” Harry proclaimed, and the two of them got into a very scientific discussion on the camouflage patterns of dragons, making you laugh while Gwen rolled her eyes.

Leaving the cafeteria once lunch finished felt… empty. Almost like the few days after a vacation somewhere new, and you had to adjust back to normal life. Before you left the building at the end of the day, the three of them found you and invited you to go bowling that weekend. That day, you ran home as usual, but this time in excitement to tell your parents about your new friends when they got done with work.

They saw the way you bounced up and down, words falling out of your mouth too fast as you spoke about Peter, Gwen, and Harry. When they offered to drive you to the bowling alley and meet the other parents, the weekend couldn’t come fast enough, even though you still saw them at lunch every day.

There had been bowling alley food and drinks, and the bowling itself was fine, but your parents got to see your toothy smile they hadn’t seen in a while as you laughed with your friends. Most of it had been at gutter balls, but then a thundering crash sounded from the end of your bowling lane, your head turning to see who nailed a strike that fast.

That’s when you first saw Uncle Ben, who high-fived everyone and yelled, “Still got it!” He came last to Aunt May, who you had briefly met, their hands entwining while Peter went up to bowl his turn. You looked at everyone there and suddenly couldn’t wait to start your life with these people.

The four of you spent the next years inseparable, always at one another’s houses. You never went over to Harry’s much, though you knew better than to pry, given how he tensed when speaking of his father. But you all loved spending time at Peter’s, doing homework on the living room floor together until the afternoon sun began to stretch into the evening. The family dinners were your favorite.

Sitting around the table, you listened to Uncle Ben (who had basically become everyone’s uncle) tell stories of young Peter that left you doubled over laughing and Peter with red cheeks, which just made him look even more adorable. Aunt May would hush Ben, telling him to stop embarrassing the poor boy. A few minutes later, though, she’d always find more cute childhood pictures to show the three of you.

Harry’s favorite was one of Peter in just a diaper covered head to toe in cake and blue frosting, and Gwen pointed out one of him sitting on a pony at some birthday party. But the pointy birthday hat had fallen over his eyes, giving him a bit of a unicorn horn. Your favorite, though, was one of Peter holding hands with two adults, swinging up off the ground with the widest smile you’d ever seen.

You assumed it was May and Ben in the picture until you saw the way Peter stared at the photo, like he was trying to relive that moment in his head. It had to be his mom and dad holding on to young Peter’s little hands, and you could only imagine how he felt. You weren’t sure what to do, so you just rested your head on his shoulder, breaking him from his faraway gaze for a brief second. His usual grin returned as Aunt May brought out her famous wheat cakes.

He clapped his hands together and licked his lips obnoxiously, making you laugh and hit his arm lightly. You never knew the beauty of wheat cakes until coming to the Parker's house, but you weren’t one to turn down breakfast for dinner.

Then, as night grew closer, there was always a heavy sigh weighing on you, a pull to stay there, safe, at home with them. But you’d lay in bed hours later, excited for the next day when you got to see them again, a chorus of their laughs playing in your head as you fell asleep.

When the four of you entered high school, not much had changed, at first. Classes were a bit harder, but you had each other to lean back on. You all eventually got your driver’s licenses and drove back and forth between houses and the school, taking turns carpooling there or to the skate park and mall.

One night, Peter was driving the four of you back from a late-night showing of some action comedy you had all seen together. You looked into the back seat, finding Harry and Gwen both fast asleep. Gwen rested her chin on her hand while Harry’s head hung forward, which was sure to hurt when he woke up.

Turning your gaze back forward, you notice the flickering orange light of lamp posts passing through the car. They glowed against the night sky, making the stars twinkle a little brighter. You looked left at Peter, watching the way the light reflected against his glasses. You weren’t sure how it happened so slowly, but he had grown so much in the past few years.

He was taller, making his body somehow look even leaner than before. You liked how his hair swooped backward now that he had learned how to style it as something other than a mop covering his eyes. He had finally grown facial hair, though it was just a little stubble running along his cheeks. He had grown up so lovely right before your eyes, and you hadn’t seen it.

His head turned to look at you, his dark eyes catching yours. You instead peered at the road, your face hot, certain he had felt your staring. His sly grin grew, and you just laughed a bit, trying to bring yourself to hate how smug he looked, but you had always loved that smile of his. It felt brighter than any of the stars or lights surrounding you.

In a whispered tone, he asked, “How’d you like the movie?” His eyes never left the road, but you knew he was paying attention.

You leaned back against the headrest and let out a quiet sigh. “It was fun; those actors are always so funny,” you told him, glancing back at his face. “Though I’m not sure I could hear it very well with your loud laughing in my ear the whole time,” you said, a smile evident in your voice.

He let out a hushed scoff, “It was not that loud. It was much quieter than those stupid comments you kept making.”

You faked a gasp, “Peter, you know you love my jokes, even if they are dumb.” You both laughed, and that’s why you always leaned over to him to say a silly joke, to hear that beautiful laugh. The car fell into a comfortable silence the rest of the way home, your heart feeling full and happy. You had wished, as always, to stay with them as he dropped you off at your house, but you just waved goodbye.

And just like you didn’t know that day you met Peter would change your life around, you didn’t know you were in the best times until they were over. As high school continued on, you began to see less and less of them over time. It started with a missed lunch here, a movie night cut short there, but each time one of you wasn’t there, you felt it.

You still tried meeting up for lunch and after school, but Harry threw himself into his studies (which you assumed he did to impress his father). You tried to console him and help him with homework, all of you did, but he withdrew into himself more and more with each passing day. He joined study groups, after-school programs, and tutoring until it became just the three of you then.

Until Gwen slowly shifted toward the student org she ran – the women in science club. She became president in no time and ran it beautifully, as you knew she would. You helped her make some flyers for events, and she still joined the lunch table once in a while, but you saw her with her club friends more and more often. Your side felt empty and cold without her leaning into it while trying not to spit food everywhere from laughing so hard.

And then it was two. You still enjoyed throwing cold fries and stale bread at Peter, sometimes still visiting his house (which you teased Peter by saying it was only because of his aunt and uncle). But at the lunch table, he would sometimes just sit there with his head on his hand. Sometimes, he’d stare into nothing, and sometimes, you’d catch him staring at MJ Watson sitting with her friends, most of them also in the theater program.

It wasn’t until Peter joined the photography club and started trying for that Daily Bugle internship that you really felt lonely. He’d run past you in the halls, yelling, “I can’t make it to lunch today!” just about every other day.

You found a couple of other students with similar interests as you, but they weren’t Peter, Gwen, and Harry. They didn’t make you forget your own problems at home or bring homemade wheat cakes during finals. It hit particularly hard on a cold Tuesday, the day you found out the news.

You didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but you had a sickly, gnawing feeling in your stomach as soon as you got to school. You texted Peter about plans for after school, but he didn’t return it. You searched for him around school, hoping to find him in his classes, but he was nowhere to be found. It was so unlike him to up and disappear without at least mentioning something, and he didn’t answer any calls either. You finally tracked down Harry and Gwen at lunch when you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed Harry by his sleeve and dragged him over to Gwen, where you interrupted her conversation, motioning her to follow with a pointed look. With a small huff, she got up after the two of you. Harry asked, “What is it?”

The three of you stood so close, and you could feel the heat coming off their bodies. It felt particularly hard in your stomach to remember you hadn’t been this close to them in a while. You breathed out a long sigh and grabbed their hands, squeezing them while saying, “It’s Peter. I can’t find him anywhere.”

That hard weight in your stomach sunk deep when you saw their furrowed eyebrows as they looked at each other. Gwen spoke up, “So?”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and said, “I don’t know, he’s not answering my calls or anything. I just have this horrible feeling that something’s happened.” You knew it sounded melodramatic to them, but it was Peter. You all knew he’d be there for you if it was the other way around. At least you thought so, but everything else was changing…

You pulled at their hands, urging them to follow as you said, “Come on, we gotta go check his house. Check in with May to see if she knows anything.”

They started to move, but their steps stuttered and eventually dropped your hands. Gwen and Harry looked back at their lunch tables and at their new friends – friends they might now know better than you guys know each other.

Gwen spoke up first, softly saying, “We can’t just skip school like this. I mean, he might not even be there, or there might not even be anything wrong.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, he could just be sick for all we know. I can’t really risk getting in trouble right now,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “especially with how my dad’s been lately.”

You shifted back a little, your heart beating hard against your chest, the pounding ricocheting in your ears. “Are you serious? Guys, this is Peter. We wouldn’t do that.”

Gwen just said, “I’m sorry,” as she grabbed your hand and gave it a single squeeze. “We’ll swing by after school.” She bit her lip and corrected herself, “Actually, after the club’s meeting.”

You just pressed your mouth tight and turned around toward the Parker house, your home at one point. It wasn’t too far from school, and if nothing was wrong, you could make it back without missing too much.

Any explanations you were rehearsing in your head about why you randomly showed up at their house disappeared when you saw the cop car outside the porch steps. Running to the door, your whole body felt on edge, like it was building up to the teetering drop-off of a cliff. You knocked on the door, every second passing feeling much too long.

When the door finally swung open, any air in your body left at the sight of Aunt May with red eyes and a crumpled tissue in her hand. She broke down, throwing her arms around your shoulders while sniffling, “Oh, dear…”

You hugged her, rubbing your hand along her back and fearing that something had happened to Peter. Unsure of what to do about the shakes coursing through her body, you just stood there, holding her upright. Usually, it was her consoling you kids.

She pulled back, looking at you for a few moments before inviting you inside. You peered past her to see a police officer sitting at the kitchen table talking with Peter, who also had teary eyes. You knew better than to interrupt their conversation, but you couldn’t contain your relief and went running to him, enveloping him in a hug so tight it knocked the wind out of him.

“Peter, I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You felt his hands wrap around you, but they were wavering. You pulled back, looking between him and the cop.

You heard May’s soft voice from behind you say, “It’s Uncle Ben. He was attacked last night, and,” her voice wavered, and she had to take a deep breath.

“And he was murdered by some monster.” You whipped your head back around to look at Peter, his hands balled into fists that he pounded into the table. Your eyes widened, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. A million questions raced through your mind as tears began to form.

The police officer motioned for you to sit down, moving the box of tissues closer to you. You took them as he explained some of the information they currently had on the incident. Your eyes glazed over as you listened, your body unable to keep up with everything while trying to come to terms that you wouldn’t get to talk with Uncle Ben again.

Peter exhaled a long breath beside you, and you moved your hand on top of his. You tried tracing small circles on his skin but felt his muscles tense. You lifted away from him, just barely ghosting over his hand. You turned to look at him, his face looking tired and his hair tangled from running his fingers through it repeatedly, but he refused to look back at you.

It wasn’t until the officer left that you even remembered Gwen and Harry. You turned to Aunt May, your mouth opening and closing before saying, “Is it okay if I tell the others to come over? I think they’d want to know, but it’s okay if you want to just be left alone.”

She gave a sweet smile and her eyes crinkled. “Of course, they’re family.”

You smiled back, warmed by her words even if it hadn’t felt like much of a family for a while. You texted them to get to the house as soon as possible, forgetting about clubs and school. You were afraid they wouldn’t answer or tell you that they couldn’t make it, but Harry texted a minute later that they were on their way.

May had been busying herself with tidying up the place and shooed you off when you offered to help. You let her be but felt strange as you saw Peter, who hadn’t moved in ages. You knew his mind was reeling, that look in his eyes only present when he was determined to solve something. It weirded you out a little, but there was a knock at the door before you could say anything.

You rushed to it and ushered Gwen and Harry inside. The next few hours passed in a blur of deep grief and reminiscing as the five of you tried processing everything. You repeated what the cop had told you, breaking down a few times at the unfairness of it all.

The three of you offered to help May and Peter out in any way you could. Gwen was already making a grocery list for them while Harry got to work on things they needed to plan the funeral. You vowed to come over every day for anything they needed, half-joking that you needed to keep Aunt May from cleaning the house so much it’d feel like living in a department store showroom.

She just laughed, pulling you three into a long hug. Gwen and Harry eventually got up to head home, promising they’ll bring everything tomorrow. You were quietly talking with May, about to leave as well, when you saw Peter finally stand up. He pushed his chair out far and walked toward the stairs with heavy steps and a clenched jaw. With furrowed eyebrows, you excused yourself and followed him upstairs.

“Peter! Peter, wait. Are you… okay?” You shook your head. “I’m sorry, that’s a bad question. I meant, can I help? Did you want to talk?”

He stopped right in front of his bedroom, turning to look you in the eyes for what felt like the first time in months. Maybe it was. He sighed and rubbed his hands across his face, his fingers curling into his skin as he let out a long groan. “No. I don’t want to talk. Thanks for the help and everything,” he said, his eyebrows raised and voice growing strained, “but I’m good. Just… I’ll see you at the funeral, okay?”

And before you can even respond, he walked into his room and shut the door hard enough to make you jump. You heard a quiet “sorry” from the other side, and then… silence, something you would grow accustomed to over time.

You came back every day with Gwen and Harry as promised, but you rarely saw Peter while helping with funeral preparations. You barely got to talk with Peter and May at the dreary funeral later that week, their minds occupied with grief and welcoming the many people that came from all over for Uncle Ben.

For the next several months, over the chilly winter season, you felt so far away from Peter. He came back to school the following week, but just his body. His mind was always elsewhere, his eyes staring at nothing when at one point, they seemed to hold everything. He skipped most lunches, but it felt just as lonely when he did join you. Harry and Gwen would sit by you guys when he showed up, but all conversation would fall flat as he only spoke a few words at a time, if at all.

You still visited their house occasionally, mostly to check up on Aunt May at that point. Winter rolled around before you knew it, and you tramped your way through the snow to bring some gifts to them. May brought you inside, taking your coat and pushing you toward the fireplace. You laughed, happy to see that she seemed better. Despite your protests to rest a little, she had been pouring herself into helping at the local soup kitchen.

“It keeps my mind and body busy. I’ll be okay,” she said, bringing you in for a hug and asking, “Now, dear, did you bring all these for us?” She gestured to the presents.

“Oh, yeah. Hanukkah presents for you and Peter,” you responded.

“I completely forgot. I’m so sorry,” she said. When you waved her off, she offered, “I did make dessert. Is that good enough?”

As soon as she said it, you smelled the wheat cakes from the kitchen. “Oh, May, that is more than enough. Thank you.”

“Great, let me just call Peter down,” she said.

While waiting, you looked around the house. It was a little messier, but not too much had changed, though it felt emptier, colder with only half of you there. The air changed just slightly once Peter walked down the stairs, his head down in his phone.

Despite everything, it still felt like a breath of fresh air whenever you saw him, like everything was going to be okay. You wished you could make him feel the same way. As the three of you sat down, May uncovered the pile of wheat cakes, the lid still keeping them warm.

You and Aunt May made talk here and there about classes and the weather, but once your stomachs were happy and full, she nudged Peter’s side. “Peter, it looks like we have some special gifts. Do you want to open them?” she asked.

She sounded like a mother speaking to a child, but it got him to finally look up at you and say something. “Oh, thanks.”

May scoffed at his answer and reached for a small present with her name scribbled across it. She opened it up and laughed, seeing the packet of homemade coupons you’d made. She flipped through it, pointing out some funny ones like “Free dad joke.” But she gasped when she saw others that you had snuck in there, like real coupons for people to come professionally clean or cook for them a couple times a year.

You said, “Gwen and Harry also chipped in for those; they’ve just been pretty busy lately.” A sorry smile spread across your face.

“This is so wonderful, thank you. It will be such a relief to get this place back in order,” she told you, squeezing your hand as she said, “and back to normal.”

You squeezed back, then said, “This one is for you, Peter, though I’m sure both of you will love it.”

Peter took the larger present, unwrapping it a bit haphazardly. He pulled the gift out, revealing a photo album. On the cover, it held a picture of all of you from years ago: Uncle Ben and Aunt May standing in the back while Gwen hopped on Peter’s back for a piggyback ride, and you and Harry were holding up “bunny ears” behind each other’s heads. You had set up a self-timer to get this one, and although it was chaotic, it was the best one you got. And it had always been your favorite.

You spoke up, pointing out pictures as Peter flipped through the pages. “It’s got all of our photos from over the years. There are some of us at the zoo, and there’s one of us hanging up Halloween decorations. Uncle Ben always hated that scarecrow we put up,” you said, laughing at a photo of him posing angrily next to it.

You heard May sniffle as she said, “Oh, it’s perfect. I can’t believe you kept all of these.”

Smiling back at her, you’re thankful they like it, though you noticed Peter getting that faraway look again as he stared at each of the photos. You patted his hand and said, “I left some open spots in case you wanted to add any other pictures. I think it’s missing one of you covered in frosting.”

A small grin graced his face, and it felt like the clouds had opened up just a little, letting in the smallest sliver of sunlight in. He talked about some of the other photos, the three of you reminiscing about all the great times.

As the night wrapped up, you gave both of them hugs. When you pulled away, though, you saw Peter return to that person you no longer knew. And you stared at him for a moment before waving goodbye, stepping out into the dark, snowy world, not knowing that was one of the last times you’d see him smile at you for years.

Months passed in a blur until a couple of weeks before the school year ended. You hadn’t seen much of Gwen, Harry, or Peter in a while, part of you just accepting this change. It hurt looking over at them and seeing their wide smiles with other friends, so you did your best to ignore them and keep your head down, like old times.

That was until everything came to a crashing halt. One morning, your parents announced that you would be moving at the end of the school year, across the country, where you would finish your last two years of school. They had gotten new jobs and could get a bigger house, finally giving the family a good life, as your father had put it, but you couldn’t care less. It felt like a punch to the gut, their words lost on your ringing ears.

You left the house early, your eyes filled with tears. You tried calming your erratic breaths in and out, but they didn’t want to cooperate. You found a park bench to sit on, staring at the grass against your shoes so no one saw your bloodshot eyes. And because it was so sunny out. There were so few clouds in the sky, the blue so stark against the piercing sun. It didn’t feel right for the birds to be singing, people cheerily chatting, and the sun to be so bright on a day like this. On a Tuesday.

You eventually made your way to school early, unable to sit with your tears much longer. Before the bell rang, you stood outside the school entrance waiting for them. The couple of people that would care, that needed to know.

You found Harry first. He sluggishly walked toward the school, headphones on and mind unaware of the world. You rested your hand on his arm, startling him from his daze with a small gasp.

“Hey!” you said with a small wave. He greeted back with a nod, looking at you expectantly, and the silence felt stifling. Clearing your throat, you asked, “I, um, hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today? I have some news, and we could hang out at Peter’s like we used to.”

He breathed in through clenched teeth, squinting his eyes a bit. “I actually have a study group after school today. Maybe tomorrow?” he offered.

You bit your lip, some sort of emotion building in your throat, but you just agreed, saying, “Yeah, we can try that.” He nodded, putting on his headphones and leaving, barely a goodbye falling from his mouth.

Gwen came next. You felt unsure as she walked in with some other science students, but you were determined to tell her. Just like Harry, she offered an apologetic smile. “Today and tomorrow are fundraising events for the org. Maybe Thursday?”

You sighed and nodded your head, your chest welling up even tighter. Through the sea of students, you craned your neck to find Peter. Maybe he would at least say something to change this day around.

You caught a glimpse of his bouncing brown hair above everyone else, a smile spreading across your face at the sight. Taking quick steps over to him, you tapped his shoulder, but he didn’t stop moving. All he said was, “Oh, I won’t be–”

“Be at lunch, I know,” You said, cutting off his daily mantra. “This is about something else. I have some news I gotta share with you guys, but Gwen and Harry are busy until Friday. Would you be free then for all of us to hang out?” you ask, your heart filled with so much hope, pleading for him to say yes.

“Um…” he said, not looking at you. He finally stopped as he got to his locker, distractedly putting away notebooks and grabbing other ones. “Friday, Friday. This Friday? Uh, oh, actually I can’t. I have plans Friday,” he mumbled, closing his locker.

You’re about to open your mouth and ask what his plans are when he whipped his head to the side and stared with a smile so wide you thought he’d hurt himself. And in that brief moment, you felt that your heart was nearly going to explode from how happy he looked, a peacefulness you hadn’t seen in so long.

As you turned your head to follow his gaze, your heart instead deflated a bit. He stared head over heels at MJ walking toward the two of you. He said, “Well, actually, there are my Friday plans.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. In a hollow voice, you asked, “Next week, then?” You pushed your fingernails into your palm to distract yourself from the dam about to burst inside you.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. You were almost positive he didn’t even hear what you said, and you turned to walk down the hallway before he could utter another word. You even tried texting them later that day to confirm plans but received vague thumbs-up emojis or a “K.”

And it was on that too-sunny Tuesday that it felt that your friendship with them as you knew it had ended. You thought about texting them a million times, but you were tired – tired of being the one holding on so tight when they would rather let go. So you didn’t tell them.

Those last few weeks at school seemed like it had all those years ago. Your eyes barely seemed to leave the ground, and you stayed up in your room more often than not when you got home every day. You slowly began packing up the house, the walls and floors looking so empty as the day you would shove your life into a car grew closer.

And though you were still sad or angry or both at your friends, a few days before you left, you were determined to say something to them about your departure, about this end of an era that had already ended. You planned to stop at their houses, one by one, and say goodbye. You wrote up some letters in case they weren’t home to explain your feelings – to Harry, Gwen, Peter, and Aunt May. It somehow felt better than sending off a text or a voicemail since they rarely answered calls anyway.

You first went to Harry’s, the enormous house standing menacingly over the city. You hadn’t expected him to be home, probably at some study group or event his father required him at, and you were right. Instead, a woman who worked for the family answered the door and let you know that Harry was occupied elsewhere.

You handed her the letter with his name neatly printed on the envelope and thanked her for passing it along to him. You mostly had written about what you hoped for his future life, that you would be sad to miss out on seeing the incredible person you knew he was meant to be. You reminisced here and there but tried keeping it light.

As you said goodbye to the woman, you saw a man pass through the hallway. His tall figure turned to you, and you knew it was Norman Osborn staring indignantly at you. And then the door shut, and you turned around with your heart in your throat.

You arrived a bit later to Gwen’s house, and the realization that you were hoping she wasn’t home had you biting your lip. She had once been so happy to have a girl to be friends with, and it had sometimes been hard seeing her have so many that weren’t you. As you pulled up to her street, your stomach dropped a little at seeing how many cars were outside the house.

Knocking on the front door, you found that not only was Gwen home but so was nearly the entire women in science club. Her father opened the door, a look of shock and happiness on her face. “Oh! What a sight for sore eyes! Come in, come in. I didn’t know you were part of Gwen’s club.”

Your words didn’t come easy, but you stumbled out, “Oh, I was actually just here to talk to Gwen, but she seems busy.” You looked past his shoulder and saw her standing in front of the other women, looking like she was practicing a speech with a tall stack of notecards. “Would you be able to give this to her?”

You handed him the envelope. It had her name and some small doodles on the outside. Her dad nodded, taking the letter and giving you a smile before you walked away. Back in your car, you closed your eyes for a few moments and let out a long breath. Most of what you had written was about your happiest memories with her and some of the pride you felt at seeing her become so successful already, not that you were surprised. You had also enclosed a purple hand-pressed flower that you two had made years ago, the rest of them now packed away, as you couldn’t bring yourself to leave them.

And then, you found yourself in front of Peter’s house, parking in the same spot on the street as you always did, only doing so usually felt much happier. Your heart beat in time to your rapid knocking on their door, but it calmed the second your eyes fell upon Aunt May. With an excited “Oh!” she immediately pulled you in for a tight hug and invited you in. Stepping across into the house felt like coming home.

She got to work on offering drinks and snacks as she always did. “I have time to make these fancy snacks now since I don’t have to spend time cleaning. Thank you again for that; it truly is a gift that keeps on giving,” she said, patting your back. “It’s been especially nice since Peter hasn’t been around as much lately to help out.”

Your eyebrows raised, concerned that he had been absent from both school and home. “Speaking of Peter, is he here at the moment?” you asked with a bouncing leg and fingers tight against the letters in your lap.

Her voice sounded quieter, though you hoped it was because her back was to you. “No, he’s out somewhere. Sometimes it’s with that sweet girl MJ, but sometimes he’s been elsewhere,” she said, turning to look at you. “He won’t tell me what’s going on, but he’ll come back bruised, and I’m afraid he’s in trouble. You haven’t seen anything at school, have you?” You shook your head, eyes cast down at the table as you traced a finger along the wood grain. “No, I haven’t really seen much of him there. Is he okay?”

She sighed, putting her head in her hand. “I think so? But I really don’t know with that boy. After Uncle Ben… he’s changed.”

Giving a small nod, you cleared your throat and said, “He’s tough. I’m sure he’s taking care of himself. I, um, I just came by to tell you guys the news. My family is moving, and we leave in a couple of days.” You finally bring your gaze to look at hers, and you almost wish you hadn’t when you see the way her face dropped.

“Oh, dear,” she whispered before crossing the room to you and holding you. The tears that had held in for weeks finally let loose as she wrapped her warm arms around you. She let out quiet shushes and rubbed your back. You eventually pulled back, and she took your hands in hers. You stared down at the sunspots and loving wrinkles adorning the back of her hands and up her body.

Your tears turned to occasional sniffles, and you handed Peter’s letter to May, asking her to pass it along to him. She carefully took it, her fingers rubbing against the ink of his name with a frown. “I’m sure he will love the letter, but I will make him call you. You deserve a real goodbye, love.”

“It’s okay, May. We don’t really talk much anyway, so I think this is a fine goodbye for us,” you said, your teeth chewing on the inside of your mouth. It turned into a small smile at thinking of what you had written. It was filled with old memories that made you laugh, but it also held your confession and gratitude for how Peter forever changed your life. It was a sappy letter full of love and regret, and you were glad to not have to say any of it out loud.

You were drawn from your thoughts as May spoke up again, saying, “You know, I really do love this Mary Jane. He seems happy with her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect you and him to be together one day.” When you just looked at her with a blank face, she said, “He looked at you with what can only be described as love. Uncle Ben used to have that same look.”

Her words knocked a breath from your chest, and you were too exhausted and unhappy to really entertain the thought of Peter liking you. You were leaving, and that would be the end of it. May, sensing your quiet internal battle, stood up and got to work in the kitchen. While taking out the ingredients, she said, “How about one more batch for old time’s sake?” The two of you ate the wheat cakes in content silence, and you looked at this woman who had become your own aunt, practically your mother, and knew that’s where Peter got his unending kindness from.

A few days later, your family began packing up the car and a trailer of course, of course, on the Tuesday after school ended. Your dad hoped to make it to your new home by the weekend and get settled by that Monday. Sweat pilled on your forehead as you lifted box after box. You were thankful for the heat and work to do to distract yourself from being washed away at the sight of your emptying house.

After setting another box labeled “FRAGILE” into the trailer, you turned around to find Gwen pulling up, tires screeching as she parked crooked and raced out of the car. Her voice rose high as she shouted, “What is this?” She ran to you, holding the letter tight in her hands. “I mean, you’re just up and leaving?”

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it as a sleek car pulled, one you recognized as Harry’s. He popped out of the car, his eyes locked on yours. He was out of breath and his hair wild as he approached the two of you. You had written the time you were planning on leaving but couldn’t help but feel sad that they didn’t read the letters until right before you were meant to drive away.

Harry looked at Gwen and the letter in her hands. “Oh, you got one too! So this isn’t some terrible joke you’re pulling on us?” he asked in disbelief, his eyes scanning over the trailer and boxes.

You played with the hem of your shirt and looked anywhere but them, afraid it would let everything loose. “I tried telling you guys earlier, but…” you said and let out a long breath. You debated letting all your anger and tears out, but you couldn’t destroy everything right before leaving, so you sugar-coated it. “We never got together, and you guys were pretty busy. I just thought it’d be easier this way.”

As Gwen pulled you into a hug, and you soon felt Harry’s body join in, you whispered, “I’m going to miss you guys.” You willed yourself to keep it in, to just focus on the way Gwen’s hair brushed against your skin and the way Harry’s breath tickled against your ear, and the fact that they showed up to say goodbye. You tried to sear this moment in your mind.

When the three of you pulled back, they offered to help you pack things into the trailer. Your parents were ecstatic to see them, inviting them in for some car ride snacks and bottled water. In an instant, you were back in middle school again, cracking jokes and messing with each other.

A little bit later, you found yourself outside trying to pack a lamp at just the right angle with Harry. It was just the two of you out there, Gwen inside helping your parents grab the very last things. You finally got it to fit perfectly and high-fived each other with wide smiles.

As his grin faded, he cleared his throat and said, “I came to say goodbye, obviously, but I also wanted to say thank you.” At your furrowed eyebrows, he continued, “Thank you for what you said in the letter, I mean. I can get pretty lost in my own head sometimes, and I’m grateful when you bring me back.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing you didn’t have to say anything. He knew you’d always be there for him. Gwen and your parents came back out, and it was time. She came and gave a final hug, weepily saying, “You better send us pictures of out west, or else.”

It gets a teary laugh out of you, and you responded, “As long as you send pictures of you as valedictorian or the president of the U.S., whichever happens first.”

The three of you said your goodbyes, and it took a bit long to finally let go. In the embrace, you still peered out on the street, looking for one last car to show up. But it never did. You eventually got into the car and waved at Gwen and Harry as it pulled away. Trees and grass and buildings and people you had come to love passed by in a blur. You let out a long sigh, thinking of whether your letter to Peter just wasn’t enough for him to show up.

Peter,

I hope you’re doing well.

I feel like I should know how you’re doing, but it seems lately that we are on two different islands, like there’s an ocean between us or something. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic for describing our friendship, but I wish I could’ve visited your island more often.

Would it be dramatic to say you changed my life? I hope you remember that day we were paired up for that science project because I’ve never forgotten – not the way Dr. Pepper exploded all over you or the way you invited me into your life. The Parkers became a second family to me, to all of us, and I could never repay you for that kindness.

I’m sure by now you have that classic Peter look of confusion on your face, wondering why this letter feels like a goodbye. Do you know that one Winnie the Pooh quote that goes “How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” In looking for a bit of the bright side in this dark sky, I guess the distance between us has made saying goodbye a little less hard.

The bottom line: I’m leaving on Tuesday, sometime before noon. We’ll be across the country by the weekend, and I’ll finish up school there. I planned to tell you all in person, but I guess we never quite found the right time. Between you and me, I still think about how our friendship could’ve been. How we ended up here. What we could’ve done differently to get that happy ending.

I hope you come to say goodbye or at least harass me while I pack my stuff. I miss the way things were, Peter. How it felt so easy for the four of us, how easy you made my life. But our friendship doesn’t feel easy anymore, and I’m not sure I can keep our friendship alive by myself. Hopefully, I’ll be here for you again when you come back to us.

I still wonder where you went after that night, mentally I mean. I’m so sorry about everything with Uncle Ben. He truly was a beacon of light, and I still see that in you. And though you never talked to us about it, I sincerely hope you figure things out someday.

And also figure out how special you are. You truly have a gift to be shared with the world. Can’t wait to see you in the news one day. Go easy on yourself, and please give Aunt May some extra hugs for me while I’m gone.

You had drawn a quick heart at the end with watery eyes and attached old photos of the group, your favorite memories scribbled onto the back. You hoped the tears that had fallen on the page were dry now and unnoticeable.

The welcome sign to the next city flew past the car, and you laid back against the headrest. You guess all it took for your friends to reunite was your leaving, and yet it wasn’t enough for Peter to show. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. In that bumpy car ride, leaving your home and a piece of your heart there, you promised this would be the last time you let Peter make you feel this way.

And you didn’t know it until years later, but Peter did show up. His ratty car sputtered onto the street and parked halfway in the grass, the other half making it in the driveway. Neither you or your family were there, your car having left just an hour earlier. But you had already blocked his number in your determination to keep him from breaking your heart again. As your eyes stared out the window, watching the way the world passed by, you refused to look back.

Part two

#peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm andrew garfield #tasm peter parker x reader #andrew garfield spider man #tasm peter parker #friends to lovers #peter parker x fem!reader

256 notes · View notes