To All Those Brave and Lovely

Peter

"You should talk to him," MJ keeps saying, whenever the conversation lulls and it is just the two of them sitting in the quiet, like if Nora was calm she would be easier to convince.  "He misses you."

"I don't care,"  Nora always says, the words coming out of her like a reflex, even though it was a lie.  It used to be the truth, but then the rage had burned out and the pain of everything that had happened had melted away, and the sting of being lied to was covered up with all kind of new feelings that she didn't know she had room for.  There's not enough room in her head for bitterness on top of everything else.  The therapists say that means she's moving forward, which according to them, is a very good thing.  

She tries not to care, not to be the first one to break, but sometimes when she wakes up and just wants someone to be beside her, she misses him, too.

She doesn't call, but she does listen to all the voice mails he left and she never touched.  Nora had promised herself she would stay away from them, because it would be like picking at a scab once the wound was almost healed, but one night she couldn't sleep and she couldn't call him, so she went for the next best thing instead.

Hey, and it was his voice, clear and thick with tears.  I know you're mad at me.  And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, it's just that I never told anyone before, they just figured it out, and you were just a stranger when you started telling me that you hated Spider-Man.  I tried to tell you sometimes, but I got scared, and anyways, a part of me liked not having to be Spider-Man around you.  I liked just being able to be Peter.

I've texted you a lot.  MJ says you're home form the hospital, so you must be getting these, but you're not picking up.  And that's alright, you're mad, and you've gone through a lot, it's just that... I'm worried, a bit, and I know you're okay, I keep telling myself that you're okay, but it'd make things easier if you told me so yourself?  Is that crazy?  It sounds crazy.  Just, call me?

It's been like three weeks now, and you still aren't calling, and, I just, I just want to tell you that all that stuff we said to each other at prom- I get it, if its not like that anymore, but I still want to be best friends.  Or even just friends.  I just miss you, Nora.  Just call me.

Me again. I thought about that call last night and if you still want it, that stuff we said at prom, that'd be cool , too.  Or we could just start over, pretend like we never met.  I'll go first: I'm Peter Parker.  My parents are dead and I live with my aunt.  Sometimes I swing around in a suit your adopted father made me and fight crime.  You?

That last message was stupid. Ignore it.

Look, uh, obviously, you don't want to talk to me.  And that sucks, you know, because I didn't ask for it.  I didn't ask to be bitten and have powers, didn't ask for your stupid dad to suck me into his world and fight battles for things I don't understand.  I'm not a hero, alright?  I'm a kid, a kid who didn't know what he was doing when he was fighting a bunch of unkillable robot aliens and was really scared, so sorry that you were in the building when I threw  that thing.  It was killing me, alright?  What would you have done, Nora?  Would you have let it kill you?  All the civilians were supposed to be gone... and.... it's not my fault, is all I'm saying.

Sorry about that last one.  It's not your fault either.

I'm going to stop calling you now.  Or at least, I'm going to try, I said that two other times and just kept going.  But if ever decide you want to talk to me again, the doors open, alright?  Clean slate, for both of us.

She clicks through them three times, over and over, until the sun starts to wash away the night.  Nora tries to call him, but doesn't quite make it there, so she just throws the phone at the wall instead.