escape , peter parker

𝟬𝟳 caught

chapter 7 !
caught ...

THE RAIN PATTERS on my clothes and hair and I dip my head down in attempt to avoid it. With every wet step I take I think about the realization I came to just a couple hours ago. I zone out for a moment, neglecting my surroundings, and step in a puddle. I groan in annoyance. My now wet socks really pull my bad mood together. A chilling breeze rustles down the street, hitting my face with cold air, sending chills down my body. I clutch onto my arms tighter, as if it would make a difference, and tightly grip onto the ends of my sleeves to try and warm my hands up a little bit.

I'm not mad at Peter for not telling me, I mean, I met the dude about a week ago. I'm mad at myself for not being able to see it, though, for someone who believes herself to be so smart and aware.

Maybe it was a coincidence, honestly. Spider-man doesn't have to be the only person in the world to have the ability to sense when I'm in his head. Peter Parker and Spider-man could be two completely different people, and I could just be jumping to conclusions.

Or perhaps I was right.

I guess, really, there was one way of finding out the truth if I really wanted to put it to the test.

I arrive in front of my house, searching my pockets for my house key. I unlock the door and step inside, a pleasant rush of warmth hitting my body from the heating system. My dad isn't on the couch, so I don't think he's home. I promptly lock the door behind me, take off my wet shoes and then I rush upstairs, skipping a few stairs on my way up.

I change out of my wet clothes, my skin still cold and damp, and put on comfortable pajamas. I pull out my phone and pull up Peter's number, still unsaved, and call it. He finally got his phone fixed and I wonder how it really broke, knowing what I now know.

I pace around my room and after a couple dials, he picks up. I close my eyes, getting into character.

"Hello?" Peter responds.

"Peter?" I whisper, distraught. "It's Y/N. I'm in my room right now and—and there's a man in my house—he—I can't use my powers on him!"

Discernable shuffling comes from his end. "What? I'll—I'm calling for help, okay? Keep the door locked!" He yells worriedly.

He hangs up quickly and now all I have to do is wait. I perch onto the edge of my bed and watch the window. If I was wrong, I'd hear a knock on the door from presumably the cops. If I was right, well—

A particular boy flies into my room in red, black, and blue. He's searching around frantically, and finds me sitting on the bed.

He runs over to me. "Are you okay? Where's the guy at?"

"I'm fine," I stand up. "There's no guy here."

He takes a step back, putting a gloved hand on his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"How did you know I was in trouble, Spider-man?"

"I—I don't know—your friend Peter called me. He, uh, said you needed help."

I cock my head to the side and take a small step closer. "You arrived pretty fast considering I called Peter two minutes ago, and when I did, he didn't say anything when I mentioned my powers over the phone. Only you know about them, right?"

Spider-man shrugged. "He was probably panicked and didn't notice you said that. Plus, I was in the area!"

"I never gave him my address. How'd you know where to go?"

"He just, like, said your name, and I remembered where you lived."

This would've been a good excuse, but I remembered one strange thing about Spider-man that I didn't quite catch before. It was that he seemed to know me. Now I understand that he did, I just didn't realize it. "I never told you my name—because you never bothered to ask. Because you already knew it. Didn't you, Peter?"