"Halfway to You” – Part 4: You Know Where to Find Me”
Pairing: Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: Emotional resolution, love confessions, friends-to-lovers, tender physical affection, soft happy ending
Word Count: ~700
The sky outside your window has turned that soft kind of gold — the one that only shows up when the day is ending and something else is just about to begin.
He insisted on washing the dishes.
And now, he’s sitting cross-legged on your floor, flipping through an old physics notebook you forgot he lent you two semesters ago.
It should feel strange — the way he’s slipped so easily back into your life like he never left.
It feels like the space between you just… paused. And now you’re pressing play again.
You’re sitting on the bed, watching him without meaning to.
He looks up, eyes catching yours.
You shake your head. “Nothing. Just… feels like old times.”
Peter smiles, and it’s a little sad. “Except it’s not.”
“No,” you say softly. “It’s not.”
Because you’re not pretending anymore. You’re not pretending that your heart doesn’t ache when he looks at you like you’re a miracle he’s afraid to touch.
You’re not pretending that Gwen doesn’t still exist in the space between you — kind, lovely, and everything you’ve tried not to resent.
You’re not pretending that you didn’t fall in love with him the moment he made you laugh in chem lab and never quite stopped.
“Can I ask you something?” Peter says.
“Why didn’t you give up on me?”
“You had every reason to,” he says. “I ditched you. Chose someone else. I didn’t even see you for months. But you still let me in. Last night. This morning. Now.”
You take a breath. Let it sit for a second.
“Because I know you,” you say. “I know the way your heart works. I know that sometimes it gets tangled and confused and scared. But it’s still yours. And I love it.”
His mouth parts slightly. Like he doesn’t quite know how to process the words.
You didn’t mean to say them like that.
But you don’t take them back.
“I love you,” you repeat, quieter now. “I tried not to. I tried so hard not to. But I do.”
Peter stands slowly, setting the notebook aside. He walks to you with that careful, steady way he always does — like he doesn’t want to startle whatever’s fragile between you.
You look up as he stops in front of you.
He cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing under your eyes.
“I didn’t know,” he says. “I swear I didn’t know.”
“If I had— God, if I’d seen it sooner—”
“No. It’s not. But I want to make it okay.”
Your voice wavers. “Peter—”
Then: “I think I always have.”
And then he’s kissing you.
It’s soft. So soft it breaks you a little — like he’s afraid to hurt you, even now.
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in and kiss him like you’ve been waiting your entire life to feel like this.
When you break apart, you’re both a little breathless.
Peter rests his forehead against yours.
“Can I stay?” he asks. “Not just tonight. Not just until I screw things up again. Can I stay?”
“Yeah,” you whisper. “You can stay.”
That night, he curls around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish in your sleep.
And for the first time in weeks, he is the one who cries — soft and quiet, mouth pressed to your shoulder like an apology he doesn’t know how to say.
You hold him through all of it.
You still go back to the fire escape sometimes.
It’s not about waiting anymore.
That love doesn’t always arrive the moment you want it to.
Sometimes it takes the long way.
But if it’s real — if it’s true — it always finds its way home.
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