I’m done || Peter parker
Summary: Peter hasn’t been showing up for y/n, one day when the bell rings she tries to tell him but he’s in a rush. Then he comes to her house later on in the night and they argue. A few things were said but when peter goes “i’m done”; Y/n starts to panic…
The bell rang, sharp and loud, but you barely moved.
Students flooded out of the classroom in noisy waves, laughter and chatter filling the hallway—but you stayed by your desk, watching Peter.
He was already halfway to the door.
Of course he was.
“Peter,” you called, grabbing your bag and hurrying after him.
He turned, a little startled, like he hadn’t expected you to follow. “Oh—hey. Sorry, I was just—”
“In a rush?” you finished flatly.
He winced slightly. “Yeah. I mean—kind of.”
You stared at him for a moment, searching his face. He looked tired. Distracted. Like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Not with you.
“Can we hang out today?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “After school. Just for a bit.”
There was a pause.
A small one.
But it was enough.
“I can’t,” he said.
Your stomach sank. “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did—”
“No, you didn’t,” you cut in, shaking your head. “You just said no. Like always.”
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “I just have stuff I need to do.”
“There’s always ‘stuff,’ Peter,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “Every day. Every time I ask.”
“I’m trying—”
“You’re not trying!” you snapped. A few people nearby turned their heads. You didn’t care. “You disappear in the middle of conversations, you bail on plans, you don’t even walk me home anymore—”
“I said I’m sorry!”
“And I said I just want to spend time with you!” Your voice cracked slightly. “Why is that so hard?”
He looked torn. Guilty. But still—
“I don’t have a choice,” he said.
That did it.
You let out a hollow laugh. “You always have a choice. You just don’t pick me.”
His expression shifted—hurt flashing across his face—but you were already stepping back.
“Forget it,” you muttered. “I’m done asking.”
MJ slid up beside you like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“You coming?” she asked casually, though her eyes flicked toward Peter with quiet understanding.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice tight. “Let’s go.”
You didn’t look back.
You didn’t walk home with him.
Again.
The walk felt longer without him. Colder. Even with MJ beside you, talking about something random to distract you, your mind kept drifting.
To him.
To how things used to be.
To how easy it had been.
By the time you got home, the weight in your chest felt unbearable.
You barely made it to your room before it hit you.
You dropped your bag, kicked your shoes off, and collapsed onto your bed.
And then you cried.
It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t controlled. It was the kind of crying that made your chest ache, your breathing uneven, your thoughts spiraling.
“I just wanted one day…” you whispered into your pillow.
One day where he chose you first.
It was late when you heard it.
A soft tap against your window.
You froze.
Another tap.
You already knew.
You sat up slowly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie before walking over and pulling the window open.
Peter climbed in carefully, like always, landing softly on your floor.
“Hey,” he said.
You didn’t answer.
You just turned and walked back toward your bed, arms crossed tightly over your chest.
He lingered by the window for a second before stepping closer.
“I came as soon as I could,” he added.
Still nothing.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… uh… how was your day?”
You turned sharply. “Are you serious right now?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You’re just going to act like nothing happened?”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are!” you snapped. “You do this every time, Peter! You disappear, and then you show up like everything’s fine!”
“I thought we could just talk—”
“We are talking!”
“Not like this!” he shot back, his voice rising.
The tension snapped.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said bitterly, “am I being too much? Is this inconvenient for you too?”
“That’s not what I said!”
“It’s what you do!” you fired back. “You make me feel like I don’t matter!”
His jaw tightened. “You think I want to be gone all the time?”
“I think you don’t care enough to stay!”
“That’s not fair!”
“Neither is being ignored by your boyfriend!”
Silence hit for half a second—
Then everything got worse.
“I’m doing the best I can!” he said, frustration spilling over.
“Well, it’s not good enough!” you shot back instantly.
The words hung there.
Heavy.
Sharp.
His expression changed—hurt flashing into something colder.
You immediately regretted it.
“I didn’t mean—”
He turned away, running a hand through his hair. “I need water.”
He walked out into the kitchen before you could stop him.
Your chest felt tight, guilt creeping in—but so did anger.
You followed him.
He stood at the counter, gripping the edge of it, a glass sitting untouched in front of him.
“I didn’t mean that,” you said, quieter now.
He let out a short, frustrated breath.
“I’m done.”
Everything stopped.
“…what?” you whispered.
But he had already turned, already heading back toward your room.
Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.
He’s breaking up with you.
The thought hit instantly. Completely.
You rushed after him.
“Peter—wait—what do you mean?” your voice cracked as you followed him inside.
He turned, confused. “What?”
“You said you’re done—” your breathing started to speed up, panic rising fast “—you can’t just say that, you don’t just—”
“I meant the argument—”
“I know I messed up, okay?!” you blurted out, tears already spilling again. “I didn’t mean what I said, I was just upset and I miss you and I feel like you’re slipping away from me and I—”
“Hey—hey, slow down—”
But you couldn’t.
Your breaths came too fast, uneven, shallow.
“I can’t do this if you’re going to leave,” you said, your voice breaking completely now. “I love you, Peter. I love you so much and it feels like you don’t want me anymore and I don’t know what I did wrong but I’ll fix it, I swear, just don’t—”
He froze.
Then immediately stepped forward, grabbing your arms gently.
“Hey. No. No, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “I’m not breaking up with you.”
You shook your head, tears blurring everything. “You said you were done—”
“With the argument,” he said firmly. Softer. “Just the argument. Not you. Never you.”
You let out a sob, breathing still heavy.
He guided you to sit on the edge of your bed, kneeling in front of you.
“Look at me,” he said gently.
It took a second, but you did.
“I’m not leaving you,” he said again. “Okay? I got frustrated. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing.
“Then why does it feel like you already have?” you whispered.
That hit him.
Hard.
His expression softened, guilt washing over him.
“I know I’ve been… gone,” he admitted quietly. “A lot. And I know it’s hurting you.”
“It is,” you said, your voice small now. “I feel like I’m not important anymore.”
“You are,” he said immediately. “You’re— you’re the most important person in my life.”
“Then why won’t you just be here, Petey?” you asked.
He hesitated.
That same hesitation.
That same wall.
“You don’t trust me,” you said softly.
“I do,” he said quickly. “I just—there are things I can’t explain.”
“That’s not fair,” you whispered. “You expect me to just accept that?”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“From what?” you asked.
He didn’t answer.
Your chest tightened again, but this time slower. Sadder.
“I don’t need you to protect me from your life,” you said. “I just need to be part of it.”
Silence filled the room.
Then—
“I’m scared,” he admitted.
You blinked. “Of what?”
“Losing you,” he said.
Your expression softened.
“Then don’t push me away,” you whispered.
He nodded slightly, tightening his grip on your hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll try harder. I mean it.”
You studied him for a moment, searching his face.
“Okay,” you said finally. “But you have to actually show up, Peter.”
“I will,” he said.
There was a pause.
Then, quieter—
“I love you.”
Your throat tightened again, but this time the feeling was different.
“I love you too.”
He pulled you into a hug, careful at first—like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away.
You didn’t.
You held onto him tightly, like if you let go, everything would fall apart again.
And maybe things still weren’t perfect.
Maybe there were still secrets, still distance, still things unsaid.
But in that moment—
You both chose to stay.
