All The Hurt - Chapter 7
Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences” Ugh, so much fluff in this one I hope it melts your heart.
Word count: 9.5k (holy fucking lord this is the longest one yet HAHAHA)
A/n: I originally wanted a sad ending bc i'm a sucker for angst, but I felt like this was angsty enough so here you go :) here it is my dudes! man, I can’t believe this is the end! If you’ve reached this far, thank you for reading this story, it means a lot to me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Peter was trying to apologize last night,” You started, angry memories making their way back to you as you winced, “about the past and stuff, I don’t know, I didn’t let him finish. I’m..I feel like if I let him in, he’s just going to break me again. I’m still an idiot for him.”
"You’re an idiot in general.” Flash teased, flashing you a small smile in hopes that you’d return one. He had given you time to freshen up in the bathroom and led you to an isolated table at the corner of the cafeteria, where the both of you sat alone. He ignored any callings of his name from his friends, which you were eternally grateful for.
You slapped his hand and gave him a look, to which he instantly apologized for.
"But, honestly, look.” He said, getting serious, "What Peter did was fucked up, and I definitely don’t like him for it. At all. Like, at all-"
“-get to the point,” you rolled your eyes, gesturing your hand for him to move on.
“-But you love him.” He softly said, "That’s just the way it is. When your heart wants something and your brain wants another, you look into the future. If you don't try to rebuild your relationship with Peter, will you regret it later on? And, who knows, maybe it'll work. Sometimes you can fix things, and this could be one of them. Plus, even if it did go bad, you know you tried your best, and you can finally move on.
"I know you’re scared. It’s never easy, and it never will be. But you have to try. If you don’t, you’ll never really know the possibilities that lie ahead, and you’ll always come up with ‘what if’s for the rest of your life.”
His words somehow moved you, and lessened the weight on your chest just enough for you to crack a smile. You knew he was right. For once, you admitted to yourself that you did want to fix your relationship with Peter. And he was right. You were scared. Terrified, even. You didn’t want to feel the insufferable pain again.
But Flash was also right about you wondering what would’ve happened if you didn’t. You’d constantly wonder whether or not your relationship would’ve bloomed, and you didn’t want that, either. Your mind and heart were still battling, but, ultimately, you knew which side would win.
“Too much sappiness?” Flash chuckled, breaking the peaceful silence that stretched out.
“Didn’t know you had a Gandhi within you.” You gave him a watery laugh, wiping your nose with the tissue Flash handed you.
“It’s a hidden talent.” He admitted proudly, laughing along with you.
"I thought you would tell me not to go after him.” You confessed after you quieted down, watching Flash shake his head.
"I won’t tell you not to do something if I knew it was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.” He said, eyes softening. It was moments like these that reminded you of just how great he truly was, and how much he meant to you. You knew he hated Peter more than anyone, merely for what he’d done to you, so him giving you the right advice rather than sabotaging you meant the world to you.
You were profoundly thankful to have him in your life.
"Thanks, E.” You whispered gratefully, grabbing his hand from across the table and giving it a squeeze, "It means a lot.”
He flushed and squeezed back, a shy smile creeping upon his lips.
"Doesn’t mean I’ll stop bullying him, though.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. "If anything, this just gives me a better reason to do so.”
Once again, you playfully slapped his arm and giggled, "Take it down a notch. You guys actually have a lot in common. I bet you’d get along just swell.”
"Ha! As if. Me and penis Parker. The only person I’d get along with is Spider-Man. That guy’s cool as hell.” Flash sighed dreamily.
"I ship it already.” You said, suppressing a laugh when Flash nodded excitedly and babbled on about the superhero with stars in his eyes. Poor kid has no idea that the worried eyes that were staring at the side of your face from across the room were attached to the same body that saved the both of you in D.C.
-------------------------------------------------------
“Ned! I need my phone, dude!” You cried, pushing the door to the decathlon practice room open and peeking in, confusion rising when your eyes swept the vacant class and caught sight of no one. Your shoes squeaked against the mopped floors and bounced around the emptiness.
“Ned?” You called out, waiting a moment for a response and sighing when you didn’t get one. You checked the clock on the wall, frowning when you realized you were right on time. He told you to meet him in this room at 2:45 sharp. Where was he?
“Boys tell you one thing then do something else without letting you know and somehow expect you to figure it out.” You muttered under your breath, turning around to walk out of the room. You figured you’d get your phone sometime tomorrow during lunch, when he wouldn’t ask you to suspiciously meet up after school in an empty classroom.
But when you twisted the knob and pulled, the door didn’t budge.
“What the-"
You continued jiggling the handle and pulling, hard, but it wouldn’t open. Amidst your third try, Ned’s beet red face came into view from the small glass that was built into the door.
“Dude!” You exclaimed, gesturing to the locked door, “what the fuck!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but you guys need to make up!” Ned said, looking sincerely apologetic, which only made you even more confused.
“What are you talking about? Let me out, man. This is the stupidest prank ever.”
“It’s not a prank.” An uneasy voice piped from behind you, not too far away, eventually flicking the switch in your mind from anger to panic.
You froze in your place, hand still gripping the cool knob for dear life and eyes never leaving Ned’s until he backed away and ran in the opposite direction, mouthing the word ’sorry’ about a dozen times. You weren’t ready to talk to him. You didn’t write down what you were going to say, you haven’t thought about your speech for the 12th time and you needed to do so. You had to. You couldn’t just wing it again.
Of course he’d fucking do this.
“I’m not doing this right now, Parker.” You cleared your throat, back still turned to him, heart banging in your chest like blaring speakers at a concert.
“I need you to hear my side of the story.” He pleaded, "Just listen to me, hear me out, and then decide if you’re going to walk away or not."
“I’m going to tell you right now that I will walk away.” Your shaky hands searched your hair for a tool to pick the lock. Once your fingers ran over a bump, you plucked the long bobby pin out of your hair and pushed it into the keyhole, twisting and turning in all the wrong ways.
You didn’t know how this shit worked, but frankly, you couldn’t care less. You needed to busy your hands and mind, otherwise, you’d freak out again.
“Okay. If that’s what you want, but I’m still going to say my side of the story.” He said, standing his ground.
“Fine by me, it’s not like I’ll listen anyway,” you spat, slightly bending to see what you were dealing with. How did people do this in the movies? And so easily, too.
“I..Y/n, I was just trying to protect you. A-and…” He paused, taking a huge gulp of air, “I'm sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I just…I just didn't want you to be involved in this Spiderman stuff. It hurt to let you go.” He said, voice eventually dulling into a sharp whisper.
You weren’t able to stop the scoff that escaped your lips, mumbling a ’sure it did’, shaking the doorknob even harder in order to drown out Peter’s voice. You didn’t want his words to change your mind. You didn’t want to get hurt again. You didn’t want to believe him, even after you convinced yourself you were going to. Transitioning into forgiveness wasn’t that easy, especially because you’ve gotten used to not be friends with him. You were having second thoughts, cold feet, and you can feel your brain taking control once again, as it always did when it thought about keeping you safe.
"It did.” He defended himself, "But I didn’t know it would hurt you even more. I was afraid you’d think differently of me, I was afraid you’d get hurt if anyone knew you knew Spider-Man, i-it can happen!”
“Really?” You snapped, "‘Cause Ned seemed to know and he looks fine."
"He found out.” He admitted with a sigh, "I climbed into my room, not knowing he was sitting on my bed. He saw and pieced it together, even after I tried lying. I didn’t want him to know, either."
"Then why did you push me away?”
"I can’t..I can’t tell you that.”
You growled and pushed harder on the bobby pin, ultimately breaking it in half, “Dammit!” You threw the pieces onto the floor and kicked the door in anger, turning to finally look at Peter exasperatedly, “Oh, would you look at that! Another fucking secret! That’s just great, Peter. I don’t know how you expect me to forgive you if you keep shutting me out."
“I-I know. I’ll tell you, I promise. I’m just..not ready.” He quietly said, cautiously moving towards you.
"You know what I’m not ready for? This.” You barked, wagging your finger in the distance between the two of you, "It’s too late, Parker. You should’ve done this sooner.”
“I’m-“
“I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say anymore,” you crossed your arms defensively, almost like you were covering your heart from hearing him. You didn’t know why you were saying what you were saying. You wanted to reconcile the both of you, but a large part of you was still afraid. That part was doing most, if not all, of the talking.
“But-“
“No, Parker. This isn’t-"
"I’m sorry it took you almost dying for me to apologize!” He yelled, immediately making your jaw shut and arms loosen as his loud voice boomed across the room. He was panting, moving closer to you, and only when he was at arm’s length did you see his glassy eyes.
"I’m sorry.” He whimpered, frantically running his hand through his hair and looking around, "I couldn’t protect uncle Ben and I-I thought I could protect you. I know you’d always want to keep me safe - I knew you’d pull off shit like that. I knew you’d want to run after me and help me fight off bad guys. And look what happened because of that."
His thumb hesitantly reached up and traced the scar beneath your eye as stray tears began to skate down his cheeks, causing your breath to hitch. He blamed himself.
“I couldn’t even think about losing you like I lost him. But I didn’t think about how I could lose you by trying to protect you. It hurt letting you go, it hurt to hurt you. It was never my intention to. It’s not an excuse, I know, I should’ve told you, and every day I regretted not doing so. It’s like..” His head sunk as his eyes searched the floor for words.
"It’s like I knew I should’ve but I was scared to. I had this fight with myself and I…I picked the wrong side.”
His hand dropped and gradually reached for your own, testing the waters. He sighed in relief when you allowed him to untangle your arms and hold your hand, shoulders relaxing and all traces of worry leaving his eyes.
“I made the wrong choice,” he admitted solemnly, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I owe you my life, y/n/n.”
You didn’t push him away like you were expecting yourself to. In a way, you understood. Because that’s what you were going through, too, right? A heart and mind battle, and it’s a 50/50 chance that you’d pick the wrong option, just like he did.
Right now, as your cloudy vision bore into his own, both sides were tugging at your arms, willing you to join their side as they tore you apart. It was like a fight between the angel and the devil that sat heavily on your shoulders.
You stared down at your intertwined hands. When you were kids, he’d hold your hand every time he felt nervous. You noticed them - his quirks. Your strength and firm grip would terminate his worries and stop the shaking in his left hand, but it did nothing this time. It still shook, the vibrations running all the way into your body, because it was your decision that was making him nervous. You were the cause. Your strength was slowly dying out.
You were tired. You were tired of fighting, of the pain and emotions and racing mind and anxious heart. You wanted it to end, and it seemed as though you had finally reached the finish line.
This is it.
Your decision was to be made, right here, right now.
You met his fearful gaze, and there was your answer, hidden deep in the pupils of his brown eyes. You could get through this. You could fix this, and even though you didn’t want to admit it, it was the only thing you truly wanted right now.
You hesitantly nodded and allowed an uncertain smile to tug at your lips, communicating a certain level of forgiveness that you gave him. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes, but his did, accompanied by relieved laughter. He pulled you towards him, crashing into you like the waves of the ocean, like he wouldn’t ever let you go again.
You relished in the memories, arms finding their way around his body like they memorized their placement. His head dug into your neck, and you felt his tears fall onto your collarbone.
“Thank you,” he sobbed through hiccups, squeezing you harder, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
You raked your hand through his curls, just like you always did when he was upset, and felt your own ripple of tears prick at your eyes, “I’m sorry, too, Peter.” You whispered, “I shouldn’t have humiliated you and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you. You died, and the first thing I did was yell at you.”
That only made Peter sob harder, tears falling at a quicker rate while you tried to catch your breath, “We’re okay.” You reassured him and yourself, "We’re okay.”
You silently stayed in each other’s arms for a while, basking in the new friendship you’d ought to build from scratch once more. It wouldn’t be easy, you still didn’t fully give in to the idea, but you knew that you would eventually. You just needed to see him change, and though it normally wouldn't work out, the vulnerability he was displaying while he kept apologizing and promising new beginnings through sniffles gave you the slightest amount of hope that you would hang onto. Just for a while.
Once you pulled back, he wiped his red face with his sleeves, now staining them with tears. The freckles of his face hid below the embarrassed blush that covered the apples of his cheeks. You backed away.
"I don’t know what to do now,” you said quietly, rubbing your arms to cover the goosebumps that rose.
“That’s okay.” He gave you a small smile, “I don’t know, either.”
You bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows in worry before he spoke again.
"Friends?” He held out his hand, palm awaiting your own. Just like you did when you were kids and had to make up after a silly fight. You could never stay away from each other for too long. Guess that lasted, too. You looked up at him, and you knew he was thinking of the same memories.
"Yeah. Friends.” You pushed down the sudden pain at the term ‘friends’ and clasped your hand in his, eyes boring into his so immensely you forgot you were in a classroom, alone, with your hands held firmly together. Until his traveled south, holding his gaze on your lips that were swollen from the biting.
And, fuck, did you notice. You had to divert this, quick.
"Can I have my phone, though?”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Over the next coming months, everything seemed different. The rebuilding started off easy - simple nods and smiles with no venom traced beneath them to greet each other from across the halfway, ‘hello’s when you were both in the same class, and some small talk here and there. Flash was uneasy about the whole situation, but stood by your side anyway. Still, he threw scowls at Peter whenever he’d come by to talk to you about anything, but was somehow able to bite his tongue and hold himself back.
You always told him how proud of him you were for him doing so.
You knew he only wanted to protect you from hurt, but he still respected your decision.
Peter, however, wasn’t satisfied with the limited interaction. He missed when you’d both try to head to new parts of the city by taking the next random train, or when you’d sneak into the movies and scare the living daylights out of people. It didn’t matter whether you were doing something crazy together or just chilling, he just wanted your presence.
He knew he couldn’t invite you to his table during lunch because that was when you hung out with your friends, mainly Flash, who Peter still despised, so he figured he'd have to ask you to go out with him. As friends, he had to remind himself. Constantly.
He would be a liar if he said he wouldn’t think about what you were doing when you weren’t around him, or what songs you were listening to when you were at home, or what you were thinking about before you fell asleep, or how your lips would feel on his. The questions kept him up at night, and when he found himself unable to sleep, even after a tiring day of being a superhero, he swung over to your house, landing carefully on your balcony and watching you peacefully sleeping while his heart raced in his chest at the adorable sight.
He wanted you. All of you. He always had, and he still remembered the exact day when he realized he'd fallen for you.
He never got over you. Even when he was with Liz, he pretended she was you. But, still, she never lived up to you. She didn’t have your smile, your laugh, your hair, your eyes. She had none of it. But you did. And you saved him, twice, even when he didn’t deserve it.
It was a shock when you admitted you loved him - that you still did. He didn’t know what to say, and he so desperately wanted to say it back, but knowing you, you wouldn’t believe it if he did. After all, everything he ever did was break you, and how can you deliberately hurt someone you apparently love? He wasn’t proud of it, at all. He wished he could go back and fix everything, which is why he vowed to do so in the present. He didn’t need a time machine, he just needed to show you that he changed.
He was better. He will be better.
Now, as he sat there watching you laugh with Flash and his buddies, he felt the slightest nudge of jealous boiling in his stomach. He was in, deep. He knew you were just friends with everyone, but the way your eyes sparkled when Flash whispered a joke in your ear made him anxious. He loved it. He loved seeing the small twist of your lips before the onset of your laughter, but he would’ve enjoyed it way more if he was the one causing it. The only thing that was anchoring him was the fact that you still loved him, but he knew if he didn’t do or say something about it soon, that love would fade away.
Without a second thought, he stood up, interrupting Ned’s Star Wars theory, straightened his sweater and marched over to your table. He felt eyes on his back following him through the cafeteria, and only when he reached the table did he hear the room fall quiet and started regretting his impulsive decision. The laughter died down, and it seemed as though every girl and boy at your table was throwing daggers at him. All except you, which was still new to him, but he could get used to it.
“Hey, Peter.” You greeted pleasantly, twisting your body slightly to give him your attention.
His eyes swept through the unhappy faces around you until they reached yours. The lightness in your eyes seemed to have calmed him down, and he enjoyed the way his name rolled off your tongue so sweetly. He took a deep breath, “H-hi Y/n.”
You smiled and tilted your head at him, waiting for him to tell you what he was doing here.
He coughed and scratched the back of his head, “C-can I, um, talk to you for a minute?”
Flash grimaced and raised his eyebrow, and Peter had to reassure him, “I-it’s just for a minute. Promise.”
“Yeah, it better be. You’re pretty much hogging her all the time,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes, the rest of the group agreeing with him. You blushed and squeezed Flash’s shoulder, “Relax, E. I’ll be back in a sec.” You threw him an ‘I’m sorry’ glance and stepped off the bench, leading the way outside the cafeteria doors with Peter hot on your heels like a lost puppy.
“So,” you said, stretching the word, “what’s up? Is everything okay with…” You looked around the hallway and leaned in to whisper, “your alter ego?”
Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes. He actually found it endearing that you cared so much about Spider-Man, and if he wasn't already in love with you, he would’ve been, just for the sake of your empathy. He had filled you in on some of the events that you missed out on, and he couldn’t deny how low his heart had sunk when he realized you’d been holding herself back from him.
When he had told you about everything, he had expected you to ask him question after question, each one weirder than the other, but instead you had just sat there, asking mundane, regular ones. Nothing that came out of your mouth sounded like the you he knew.
You still hadn’t fully trusted him. He felt the wall you’d built up around yourself to protect yourself from him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame you. It hurt him to see you so distant. He hoped that would change tonight.
“It’s Spider-Man, thank you very much.” He corrected sassily, "And, no, i-it’s not about that.”
His nerves began spiking as they made their way to his left hand where they caused it to shake. He wondered why he was so nervous right now. It wasn’t like he was asking you on a date. Or was he? Would you think it was a date because you’re in love with him? Should he ask you out?
“Hey,” you stood in front of him and hooked your finger beneath his chin, lifting his head up. He didn’t even realize his head sunk as he stopped talking. Your touch lit his body on fire, and it only worsened when he saw the look of concern in your eyes. But he loved every bit of it.
“You okay?” You asked, concerned.
“Yeah, yeah, um…I just…I have something I want to ask you.” He said quietly, rubbing his upper arm and looking around.
Mimicking the same movements he did when he left you.
Your own heart started beating faster in fear that he’d do it again. Was he going to do it again? Was he going to leave you again? Was this going to happen?
“Oh.” You cleared your throat, attempting to stop yourself from jumping to conclusions, "Yeah, okay. What…is it?”
Peter’s ears suddenly tuned into your drumming heartbeats, wondering what got them to be loud. You were nervous, but for what? “I just…” He gulped and inhaled deeply, “Aunt May would love to see you again. She asks me about you all the time and I figured…would you like to come over?”
He winced in fear, not knowing if he was going too far too soon, but when he saw relief flood your face and your heart calming down from its frenzy, he, too, relaxed.
“Yeah,” you said through nervous laugher, threading your fingers through your hair, “yeah, I’d love to. I’ve missed her burnt casseroles.”
Peter snorted, “She’s been trying to make this new lasagna..thing. Italians would be ashamed.”
“Save me some Tums?” You teased.
“Always.” Peter nudged you.
You giggled, "When do you want me to be there?”
“Is tonight around 6:30 okay?”
“Tonight around 6:30 is great.” You nodded.
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
You two stood in front of each other, exchanging embarrassed smiles through the pleasant air that surrounded you. Your relationship had always been like that - easy and fun and nothing like what it went through months ago. You both loved it. You loved how simple it was to be yourselves around each other. That was the way it was supposed to be, and that was Peter’s goal for your relationship. And maybe, just maybe, going a little farther than being friends was on his mind for tonight.
He thought it over during the sleepless nights. You admitted you loved him. He loved you back. Why complicate things? If you weren’t ready, then he was willing to wait for you, no matter how long it took. But if you were, what was the harm in knowing and acting upon it?
Tonight. Tonight, he had a plan.
Tonight, he thought as his eyes involuntarily made their way towards your lips, tonight was going to change everything.
----------------------------------------------------------
You rang the doorbell at exactly 6:32 PM. He had been in the bathroom, trying to brush his hair back and gel it to hold the curls in place. This was his fourth attempt at fixing his god awful hair that didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He ended up having the hair that of a wax figure, but he couldn’t do anything else, especially since he had gone into panic mode. He quickly sprayed a body spray, crinkling his nose at the strong smell while he listened to what was going on on the other side of the door.
Aunt May’s heels hurriedly and loudly clicked on the floor as she rushed to open the door.
“Oh, Y/n!” Aunt May gasped loudly, “Honey, you look absolutely gorgeous!” She squealed excitedly while you did the same. He was reminded by how long it had been since the pair had seen each other. He felt guilty for taking you away from Aunt May. You had always been like the little girl May always wanted but could never have.
He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. He’s fixing it.
He’s fixing it.
With one final look in the mirror, and another breath check, he waltzed out of the bathroom just in time to see you pull away from May’s grasp. And holy shit, May wasn’t kidding when she said you looked gorgeous.
Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail with fallen strands to frame your face. You wore a short, off-shoulder, black lace dress and paired it with your signature converse that you have had for literally years. Casual, but absolutely stunning in Peter’s eyes.
“You don’t look a day over twenty, May.” You giggled when May waved her hand embarrassingly and ushered you in, pushing you towards a frozen Peter. He stood with his mouth slightly opened and here come the swarm of butterflies.
“Since when do you wear suits?” You teased as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his figure. He immediately hugged you back, almost forgetting that he had to reply as your sweet scent surrounded him in the most dizzying and delightful way ever.
“Since when do you clean up nicely?” He squeaked a tad too late, pulling back to get a good look at your face. You had applied some makeup earlier on. It wasn’t too heavy and wasn’t too light, either. It was perfect. You were perfect.
“You’re wearing Axe.” You pointed out.
“You’re- wait, how did you know the brand?"
“Flash used to use it all the time. It's really strong.” You patted his cheek twice and made your way towards the living room. This was your second home, but you had still set boundaries after the fight, so you didn’t do what you normally did, which was go into Peter’s room to change into his PJs. You didn’t know how far you could go, and how far you allowed yourself to go.
“Noted,” Peter said quietly, making a mental note to throw out the spray later on.
He stood still and blushed as he touched his cheek where you had patted him, not paying Aunt May any attention until she cleared her throat. She looked at Peter with suggesting eyes and moved her eyebrows up and down. He straightened up, knowing what May was thinking.
“Cut it out.” He whispered harshly, pointing an accusing finger at May.
“I’m not doing anything.” She threw her hands up in defense, feigning ignorance.
“Don’t give me that look, May.” He whined, "And please, please, don’t embarrass me.”
“No promises,” May sang as she squeezed his shoulder, making Peter sigh.
While both you and Peter had expected the dinner to be awkward and stiff, it was nothing like that. You sat beside each other like you always did and attempted to keep the burnt food down for as long as possible while commenting about how much better May had gotten at cooking.
You laughed, went over memories, and were quick to steer the conversation anytime it had begun to touch on superheroes or the rough patch you and Peter had gone through.
“Phew, I’m full.” You stated, placing a hand on your growling stomach. Truth be told, you were starving. It was like you had eaten air and not anything solid.
“Oh, are you sure, sweetheart? You used to eat two plates.” Aunt May said worryingly.
“It’s really filling,” Peter cut in to save you without communication. You subtly nodded in thanks. He did the same. He then stood up, took both your and his plate, and walked into the kitchen. The same routine he’d do when you were kids.
It was just past 8, and you and Peter were in the middle of washing and drying the dishes - and throwing water at each other every once in a while - when May passed by the kitchen.
“Kids,” she called out, heels pounding against the floor as she fervently moved around, “I’m gonna leave, the firm wants me to be there. It’s an emergency. Behave you two. My eyes are on you, even when I’m not here!”
“Right, and I’m gonna go change.” Peter said, ignoring May’s last sentence and drying his hands with a towel, "This is not the most comfortable thing on the planet.” He gestured to his suit, tugging on the collar that looked like it was suffocating him.
You giggled and watched him leave while saying goodbye to May, who swung the door open and then slammed it on her way out. You listened carefully, waiting until you heard the elevator outside ding, and then shut.
“You knew she was leaving!” You yelled out knowingly as you left the kitchen, waving your wet hands around, "What tricks do you have up your sleeves?”
“Forgot you’re a smart one.” He chuckled loudly. You decided to follow him into his room, leaning against the doorway when you got there. Your eyes widened when you saw him standing beside his window, pushing his hand against his chest as the spidey-suit tightened around his body. You hoped to God he wouldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.
“I’m sorry, do you casually lounge around in your suit? D-do you sleep in it? Why are you wearing it?” You asked curiously, firing question after question to fill his ears with something louder than your heartbeats.
“Come on, let me show you what I do for fun.” He said, placing one hand on the open window frame and extending the other towards you, but you hesitated.
“Uh,” You stepped back, legs feeling like jello, “y-you don’t have a balcony. You know that, right?”
He frowned beneath the mask, shoulders lightly slumping. He thought everything was going great. He wondered where he went wrong, why you looked so distraught, like you’d seen a ghost.
As he was trying to figure it out, you, on the other hand, were on the verge of a panic attack. The last time you had reached for someone’s hand was Liz’s, and you had nearly died. What if you slipped? What if you fell? What if, this time, your fate was to leave this earth forever?
You could feel the sweat start to pile up on your forehead as the walls began to close in around you. You closed your eyes as the memories ran past your closed lids, even though you bid them to stop. The noises, the feelings, you felt them.
You were reliving the horrific memories, but you imagined a different scenario that ended with a ceaseless silence that would swallow you whole.
Peter, by that time, had realized. He’d heard the loud thumping and labored breathing and pieced it together. Now, he thought, now was the time to prove to you that you could trust him with your life.
He carefully walked over to you and palmed your face. When you opened your eyes, a light redness had overtaken what was once white, your pupils were dilated, your lip was quivering. He sketched over your face, recognizing all the signs and memorizing new ones you’d developed in case this happened again. Luckily, he knew how to calm you down, and that’s exactly what he did.
“Hey,” He softly said, thumb caressing your cheek, “you’re going to be okay. I won’t let you fall, y/n/n.”
“I…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, the tears beginning to skate down your face and clogging your ability to speak.
“Have I ever let you fall?” He asked, catching the tears as they fell.
Has he ever let you fall?
And at that moment you realized, no. No, he didn’t. Even when he was miles away, he still showed up to save you. Even when you ruined his life and made him miserable he was still there for you. Even when you didn’t deserve it, he came through. He always did. You had thought of him as an anchor, and there he was, always there to guide you to safety.
“Have I?” He repeated, never breaking eye contact as he gently placed his forehead against yours.
You quickly shook your head and sniffed, willing yourself to trust him, to restore your faith in him once again. You saw how he changed and how badly he wanted you to do so. It was now your turn.
Feeling him beside you alone, his warmth transferring onto you, made you better already. You could trust him. You could trust him. Your mind eased itself, and you were able to control yourself, packing all the signs of mistrust and shoving it in the back of your mind, just for the moment.
“Come on,” He held your hand, slowly leading you to his open window. You nervously swallowed the lump in your throat as he let go of you to crouch his way out of the window, sticking to the wall beside it.
Your heart beat erratically when all you could see was the New York skyline. He just disappeared.
“Well?” You heard him say, sticking his palm into his room, “You coming or what?”
Again, you wanted to do nothing but yell out how much of a mistake this was, how dangerous it could be. You wanted to run and forget you ever knew about his secret. You knew he was only being pushy because that’s the only way he ever got you to get over something. You were glad he remembered that, but in this moment, you weren’t too pleased about his magnificent memory.
You slowly reached out your own shaky hand, encasing it with his as you closed your eyes in fear.
Somehow, he had lifted you from the room and allowed you to wrap yourself around his body. You wondered how this would look like to anyone that was watching. Spider-Man hugging a girl with one arm while the other clung to a fucking brick wall.
Physics, everyone.
“Hang on.” He warned, lunging off the wall and shooting his webs at whatever he was shooting at. The jump had taken you by surprise. So much so that you dug your head into his neck fearfully, and screamed into his ear. Your shrieks echoed through the night, and it only took you a minute to open your eyes and stop screaming.
The bright lights swooshed past you, as did hundreds of waving people, and soon, you were letting out loud laughter of fun while waving back at them in glee.
Your hair was whipping in all directions, sometimes smacking you in the face (which resulted in strands ending up in your mouth), but it felt like a rollercoaster. At some point, Peter even flipped in the air, and you swore you had never felt freer. Which might’ve been a result of your dress flipping upwards.
A few minutes into swinging through the busy streets in your best friend’s arms, you realized he had taken you into a much calmer, quieter place. So, you stopped squealing and giggling, sighing contently and resting your head on Peter’s shoulder.
But, of course, you had to give him shit when he landed for the stunt he pulled.
“Oh, my God. Oh my God, you fucking dumbass!” You screamed, punching his chest that was rattling with laughter like yours was, punctuating every word, “I’m.” Punch, “Pretty.” Punch, “Sure.” Punch, “Half.” Punch, “Of.” Punch, “New-“ Punch, “-Fucking-“ Punch, "-York.” Punch, “Saw.” Punch, “My.” Punch, "Underwear!”
When Peter flipped in the air, you were almost entirely sure you had flashed all the citizens of New York.
What a sight to see, huh?
“All right, all right, easy, tiger.” He snickered, gripping both wrists with both his hands, watching you pout and blow a strand of hair away from your face, only for it to fall again. A layer of pink had coated your cheeks, your teeth biting your lip to keep it from stretching into a large smile.
He chuckled and shook his head, now holding both wrists with one hand while the other tore his mask off. He softly brushed the hair away from your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, and he swore the puppy eyes you were giving him was being done on purpose, yet he couldn’t stop himself from staring.
He cleared his throat and looking away to hide the blush.
“Why are we here?” You questioned, eyes bouncing around as you recognized the park you were currently in.
“Uh,” he awkwardly laughed, “I-I have a surprise! No peeking!” He shoved his hands on top of your eyes, shielding your vision from his ’surprise’, and turned your body around so that your back was to him.
“Okay…” You suspiciously said, eyebrows brushing against Peter’s hand, “You sure you don’t wanna web my eyes shut?” You joked.
“Actually,” Peter said, now guiding you towards…whatever the surprise was, "that’s not a bad idea..” You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and panicked when he used one hand to cover both while the other removed itself.
“I was kidding!” You exclaimed, holding the hand on your face and pushing it against you to keep it in place.
You heard a light laugh from him, as he put his hand back and continued guiding your steps forward. By the time you reached the spot, he snatched his hands away and winced in fear of your reaction, cowering behind you.
It was a sight, truly.
"A picnic..at night,” You stated, quite baffled. This was definitely the last thing you expected from Peter. Grand gestures weren’t exactly his thing, but my God, did you love it.
In the middle of a clearing of the playground you went to all the time lay a checkered red and white blanket that was being held down by a large picnic basket. The moon was shining brightly tonight, so there was practically no need for any other source of light. However, the trees had been decorated with fairy lights that were beautifully wrapped around the trunks.
It was simply stunning.
While you stayed silent, still trying to process the view ahead of you, Peter, took the long absence of sound as a bad sign, and was hit with anxiety.
“You.. we don’t have to- I-if you’re not comfortable-“ He stuttered, rubbing the back of his head and looking around, "or, I-if you don’t like it, I could just-”
“Peter,” You placed a gentle hand on his arm and slowly brought it down, "I like it.”
You smiled gratefully at his wobbly one, looking into his adorable doe eyes that shone from the fairy lights that reflected in his irises. The yellow tint of the lights brought out the eye crinkles and freckles that you loved dearly, and you found yourself falling for him over and over again.
Your eyes shifted to the right, catching something you didn’t see in the beginning.
“Is that our scrapbook?!” You said in surprise, pointing at the unmistakable, sparkling album that lay in the middle of the blanket.
"You’ve never shown it to me, you hogger! You just took it and I never saw it again.” You laughed, tucking your dress beneath your knees as you sat and held the thick book in your hands. Funny, you never thought Peter would keep the scrapbook. After your fight, you assumed he either burned or threw everything that reminded him of you.
But, unknowingly to you, Peter couldn’t bear the thought of doing so, which is why it hurt him that you did that, though he understood why you did it. Still, he couldn’t do it. He kept all the memories, and he’d look through them, every single night, wondering if he’d made the right choice.
“Yeah, I figured we could look through the pictures while we eat,” Peter suggested, following and sitting across from you. He opened the basket and pulled out two wrapped club sandwiches. It was the only thing Peter could prepare with the short amount of time he had and without Aunt May knowing.
He held it out for you to grab, but you were too busy smiling fondly at the cover while your fingers traced the sparkly block letter stickers, “Y/N AND PETER’S FRIENDSHIP” over and over again.
Oh, how he wished he could freeze time to take a photograph of this moment.
You sighed happily and looked up, taking the sandwich from him, “Real fancy, Parker.” You smirked, nodding to the sandwich as you unwrapped it and took a bite.
“It's about to get even fancier,” He smiled smugly, pulling out two steel shaker cups and raising his eyebrow while shaking them side to side.
“Chewy balls?” You gasped, mouth full of food. Peter nodded, which prompted you to quickly swallow the food and reach out for the cup.
He plopped a blue swirly straw, your favorite, into your drink and held up his own.
“Cheers,” He said.
“Cheers,” You giggled, clinking your cup with his before sipping through the straw.
You immediately made a face and gagged as Peter did the same, “Ew. What is in this?”
“Chocolate, avocado, and pumpkin, I think.” Peter said with a grimace, eyeing his own drink with disgust.
“It’s terrible!” You laughed, wiping your mouth with your arm, “What’s yours?” You asked, clearing your throat. You were pretty sure there was a large piece of pumpkin stuck in your throat.
“Sweet potato and caramel corn,” he replied, exchanging his drink with yours, like always, and taking a sip. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and hummed surprisingly.
“Not bad,” you stated, taking another sip.
“Yours isn’t too bad, either.”
“We’re fucking gross.” You shook your head and laughed.
“Right? We should never trust a place named Chewy Balls, yet here we are, enjoying their weird milkshakes."
“I feel like we’re the only two idiots who are keeping the store open.”
And that was how the majority of the night went. You both sat together and filled each other in on everything you once couldn’t.
Peter felt relieved.
It was the first time he had hung out with you alone without Flash putting him on a time limit or tagging along begrudgingly. He asked about your friendship with the bully, prompting you to tell the story about how you two connected.
He rolled his eyes a few times, but so did you when you asked about Liz, trying to seem like you weren’t interested, but he sensed it. He sensed the jealously, and normally he would tease you for it, but he didn’t this time.
You didn’t look at him until he assured you that there was nothing.
Because, truly, and thankfully, there was nothing between him and Liz.
The night continued with you flipping through the scrapbook and reminiscing about your juvenile, naive days, pointing out little details the other hadn’t known about certain photos.
That’s when it was brought up.
You gasped loudly, pointing at the picture before you as you flipped to the last page, “Is that the night of our sixth grade dance? The one we spent at-“
“Johnny Rockets,” Peter said at the same time you did.
He had moved closer to you, still on opposite ends, but with his knee caps touching yours. The pictures were upside down for him, but he didn’t mind. He knew the scrapbook by heart, anyway.
Your finger was on his absolute favorite photo of all time. You, in your Homecoming dress, dabbing Peter’s ruined suit with a napkin while laughing with closed eyes and a hand on your chest. Peter, on the other hand, was gawking at you with a love sick smile, completely ignoring the alarming amount of milk that was running down his nose.
“Aww. That was the first time Aunt May teased us for being too ‘couple-y.” You cooed.
Peter raised his head, “What? Really?”
“Yeah. She kept telling me how you had a crush on me and that it was clear I did too and how she wanted grandkids and blah, blah, blah.” You giggled, failing to notice Peter’s widened eyes and beet red face.
“I mean, can you blame her?” You continued with a smirk, tracing over Peter’s lovestruck face in the photo, “you kept staring at me, even when she told you to smile and look at the camera.”
You kept things light, like you always did. It wasn’t like this wasn’t unusual in your dynamic. Throughout the years, you had kept teasing him about his so-called crush on you while he rolled his eyes and denied it.
He caught a sudden furrow that settled in the middle of your eyebrows. Your finger traced his face again, feeling a slight bump under his mouth. Without hesitation, you dug your fingers beneath the badly glued picture, and pulled out whatever was below.
A folded, blue sticky note.
And only then did Peter remember what was written on it. He watched you unfold it, eyes reading the only three words on the note.
“'Tell her soon'?” You read off the note, “Tell me what?” You wondered.
That was the push he needed. With a shaky intake of air, he carefully took the book and closed it, placing it to the side for the time being.
He met your eyes, and tried to remember parts of his sixth grade speech, inputting new pieces that he thought would be fit. He grabbed your hands, and licked his lips.
“Y/n,” He started, carefully watching your face and dissecting the confusion, “You’re my best friend, and throughout the years, you’ve proven to me, time and time again, that you always will be, even if I don’t deserve it. You were there for me when I lost Uncle Ben,” He felt tears prick at his eyes and a lump in his throat, but continued despite the ache of the memories, “You invited Aunt May and me to Thanksgiving every year so that we wouldn’t have to eat burnt turkey alone, you helped her find her job, you put me back on my feet when I needed it...
“I..I can't tell you how much you mean to me, how thoughtful and kind you are, and how sorry I am for hurting you. Which…which is why I think you have the right to know something. About the day the picture was taken.”
And suddenly, he wasn’t nervous at all.
A calming peace washed over him when he looked into her eyes. She had that effect.
"That was the day I fell in love with you.” He admitted with ease.
You went through multiple emotions at once, heart and mind freezing in union as his confession came to light.
“You…what?” You whispered, caught off guard.
“I didn’t ask you to go to the dance with me because you were my best friend. I asked you because I had feelings for you, for a really long time, too. It started in the second grade, but every year I found myself getting deeper and deeper. Then, that night,” He paused for a moment to laugh and roll his eyes, “I should’ve fallen in love with you when we were dancing under the lights and all that, but, I didn’t.”
You tilted your head, not understanding where he was going with this.
“I fell in love with you afterward, when Aunt May picked us up and took us to Johnny Rockets on Jackson Mill Road and we all sat at the second to last table on the left side of the restaurant.” He looked up at the sky and sighed fondly, remembering the way he felt like it was yesterday, “You ordered a Peanut Butter Banana milkshake and I got the Oreo one because I wanted to be a basic bitch. And then when we sat down, we started telling each other jokes, and you made me laugh so hard I swear a fucking piece of Oreo came out of my nose.”
You snorted, remembering how red Peter’s face got when there was milk dripping down his nose.
“I remember it hurting like a bitch.” Peter continued, "I mean, I felt like ripping my nose off. But your laughter…I was in pain, but by God, I felt like that laugh, loud snorts and all, could heal every ache in my body. And then I remember thinking, 'I want to spend the rest of my life hearing that sound’. And it hit me.”
He reached out to you, delicately encasing both your hands in his, watching as his thumb ran over your knuckles.
"It hit me, Y/n L/n, at the most unexpected and least romantic time, that I had fallen in love with you, right then and there. And I never stopped.”
He looked up, glassy eyes lining up with yours.
“Y/n/n, I love you. I love all of you. Every bad aspect and every good one, too. And I want you. I want all of you. I want to make you happy and be the cause of your smiles and laughs, and I want to be there at your worst and at your best. I’m nothing without you, Y/n. You made me who I am, and I don’t want to be without you ever again. And if you’re not ready then I’ll wait forever for you, but I wanted to let you know that I am deeply in love with your annoying ass, and I’ll spend every minute of the rest of my life showing you if your stubborn self would let me.”
You gave him a watery laugh, feeling your heart warm instantly at his moving words. You always doubted he had loved you like you did, but hearing him say the three words, over and over again, felt like pure euphoria. You were about to speak when he cut you off.
“And I’m sorry.” He said, face falling as he failed to notice your lovesick smile, “I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I didn’t say it back when we fought, I’m sorry I-"
“Shut up,” You rolled your eyes, impatiently tugging at his shoulders and pulling him in for a long awaited kiss. You moved your hand to rest over his chest where you felt the loud thumping of his heart below your palm, causing you to smile into the kiss.
“I love you,” He said against your lips, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. The love between the two of you burst like a thousand fireworks, like a thousand suns warming you up entirely. You wanted to feel it forever.
“I love you.” You whispered it back.
When the air was starting to become limited, you pulled back, instead placing your forehead against his to stop the dizziness.
“There’s no way you did all this yourself.” You shook your head, raising your eyebrow with a sultry smile.
Peter drew back, giving you an offended look.
“You don’t think I did?” He scoffed.
“Of course he didn’t!” A voice squealed from behind you, causing you to jump into Peter’s arms where you landed on his lap with your arms around his neck.
He wasn’t complaining.
You quickly turned around to look for the source, and immediately relaxed when you found Ned jumping around and fanning himself while screaming “Oh my God!” Over and over again.
“YOU KISSED! YOU FINALLY KISSED!” Ned shrieked, running circles around you and Peter.
“I’m sorry, were you here this whole time?” You asked, slightly disturbed when he paused for a moment and mumbled an embarrassed “no”.
“You know this dude?” You turned to Peter, tilting your head and pointing at Ned.
“I’ve never seen him in my life.” Peter denied playfully.
“So he’s not the one who helped you with all this?” You gestured to the lights and picnic.
Peter feigned ignorance, “Uh, no. No, I did it myself.”
“Did you, Spider-boy?” You teased, adjusting yourself on Peter’s lap.
“I did, and it took a lot of time. I think I deserve a thank you gift.” He gave your waist a squeeze, prompting you to giggle.
“And what would you like?”
“I was thinking a kiss?”
“Yes!” Ned butted in once more, “One picture for the scrapbook!” He held up his phone and pointed it at the both of you, waiting for you to make a move.
“Give the people what they want?” You shrugged.
“Give the people what they want.” Peter agreed, delicately placing his lips on yours once more, feeling a white flash run across his eyelids.
You both felt like you were sealed in a little bubble together, the loud squeals coming from Ned now purely a background noise as your mind wrapped around Peter and only Peter. He made you believe in love again, in faith, in humanity. He was and always will be your anchor, and despite the pain you had to endure, you thought that maybe, just maybe, at the end of the story, all the hurt was worth it.
Tags: @takashima-rei, @peachescream06, @hayhays
Previous Chapter
All The Hurt Masterlist
Main Masterlist
