xci. soulmates

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a/n: mj's pov

When Michelle was a little girl, she stared down at her soulmark every waking moment, tracing the words with her eyes over and over and over again, until she had memorized every curve and angle of the handwriting on her wrist. She knew that if she ever saw her soulmate's handwriting, she'd recognize them instantly.

And she knew that she couldn't wait to meet them. Up until she turned eight. Because when she turned eight, her mother and father were screaming at each other so loud that she couldn't help but overhear everything they said.

She heard when her mother called soulmates stupid and wrong, she heard when her father said that he'd never loved her like he was supposed to. She heard when they both said they'd wished they weren't each other's soulmates, and she heard when her mother slammed the door on her way out and never came back.

After that, she didn't look at her soulmark again. Despite the fact, she could never forget the words that would always be there. "Oh! I'm so sorry, do you need help with that?"

It wasn't a habit that she realized she had until she was starting middle school. Her father was barely around, so she had no reason to speak to him, and she was a loner at school, so she didn't need to speak to anyone else, and then on her first day as a seventh grader, somebody spoke to her and she just didn't speak back.

It was better that way, she decided, and went on with her day. It hit her then, that she couldn't remember the last time she spoke besides to herself in the safety of her own room. She was okay with that.

She managed to get through grade seven and eight with ease, not caring about the hurt or angry looks she'd get when people talked to her but she didn't talk back. And then on her first day as a freshman, it happened.

She wasn't looking where she was going, and she was carefully balancing her books and folders on her arms as she squinted at her schedule and tried to figure out where her Biology class would be at.

Somebody slammed into her, and they both toppled to the ground, her things flying out of her grasp and littering the hallway in front of her. Anger flooded her for a moment, before she calmed, realizing it was most likely her fault, and she sighed.

Michelle pulled herself to her hands and knees and began gathering her things. "Oh! I'm so sorry, do you need help with that?" Came the kind voice of whoever had knocked her over, and she froze for a minute, the mark on her arm tingling in a way she'd only ever heard of in stories.

A split second later, she merely shook her head, stood, and she walked away, leaving the boy and his friend to stare after her. Later, she would learn that his name was Peter Parker.

It was just her luck, really, that he was in every single one of her classes. She'd see him every single day, whether he was doing his work or chatting with his best friend, Ned Leeds. Or if he was getting teased by the dumbass Flash Thompson, or even watching her.

He always looked away when he saw that she noticed him looking, but she knew.

She couldn't help but wonder why. The first time she spoke was a few weeks after she met Peter, and she saw that Flash was bothering him endlessly, and she could almost ignore it.

Then he made a comment about Peter's dead parents, and she was fuming.

"At least his parents loved him, Eugene." She spat suddenly, and they both looked to her, shocked.

"Whatever. We all know you don't have a Mom, so why the hell do you think you're so special?" Flash growled, slumping back in his seat with arms crossed.

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