WAITING GAME ¤ peter parker

I. the one where they meet

you notice him. he can't help but notice you too.

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He's going to be late.

Peter's been repeating this to himself since he'd woken up this morning, alarm blaring with giant red numbers reading 8:13 A.M. He had made sure to set extra alarms, each one with a different tone, and had managed to sleep through them all.

So, he'd jumped up, shoving himself into the outfit he'd had laid out the night before, hauled his backpack onto his shoulders, and grabbed his keys before leaving his dorm room and making a mad dash for his class. He'd woken up so late he didn't even get to fix himself the tea he had planned on making.

He is so going to be late. And on the first day of class, too. Fuck. Right about now, he's questioning what compelled him to sign up for an 8 a.m. class. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as Peter just about manages to arrive outside the building his class is held in, he's cursing himself out.

He risks a glance at his watch and winces. 8:23. There's a part of him that cringes at the thought of walking into the lecture hall, knowing all eyes would immediately be on him. Peter had been so hopeful for the first day of college. But now he'd be labelled as the kid that was late to his first class. Fuck fuck fuck.

He doesn't want to go in.

He does anyways, of course. Sucking it up and moving along, he wraps his hand around the door handle and pulls.

Creeeaaaaak.

He wants the ground to swallow him whole. The groaning of the door stops once Peter slips inside the classroom, only to start again as it closes behind him. But when he looks up, he's surprised to see that no one's even spared him a glance. The professor is still speaking, pencils are still moving.

A breath. Thank God. He makes his way past students, scouring the rows of people for an empty seat. There's someone occupying each and every seat he comes across. He's just about ready to give up hope when he spots an empty seat a few rows up, right next to someone in a giant grey hoodie.

Peter approaches the person, nudging their forearm gently. "Um, is anyone, uh..." He trails off, awkwardly rubbing his neck. Please please please let me sit here. They glance up at the touch of his hand.

"Yeah, sure." They move their things over to give him room. He settles into his seat, pulling out the colorful notebook labeled Psychology, and gets to work writing notes immediately.

The class passes much quicker after that, but Peter can feel himself dozing off periodically when the professor pauses his lecture. He really wishes he'd woken up earlier. He's grateful the class ends when it does, hundreds of students pouring out of the room almost instantly.

A sigh leaves him as he puts his things back into his bag.

"Hey, um-" Another book lands beside him. When he looks up, you give him an encouraging smile. "You, um, you missed a few topics...before you came in." You shrug a shoulder, holding your backpack strap on the other. "So, uh, you can copy mine? Like, I can give you my notebook and you can give it back next class, o-or you can take a few pictures, or I can take a few and send them to you!"

Peter doesn't say anything, instead choosing to stare at you with wide, curious eyes. He didn't think anyone had noticed him come in, despite the noise he caused. But you had, and you're offering to help him. No one else had done that. You're an angel.

The smile on your face drops as suddenly as it had come, and you begin reaching for the notebook. "And you probably think I'm weird and was watching you and am just trying to get your number! Okay, um, sorry for tha-"