Peter Parker Imagines Book

Too Good To Be True

I am currently too tired to explain myself. Take this.

You knew Peter Parker seemed too good to be true.

Usually, you took pride in thinking you were slow to annoyance. And perhaps you still were. Perhaps you were only jumping the gun a tad bit in your exhausted state. But right now? At this exact moment? You were damning whatever college party, social outing, or late night snackage that had your roommate roaming your shared apartment at two in the morning (clumsily and loudly, at that) to the deepest depths of Hell.

He'd seemed decent enough when you met him; a fellow ESU student, starting his sophomore year. It had only been a day after you'd posted the ad looking for a roommate when he had shown up at the door, phone open on the site that showed your address. A nervous smile hadn't left his expression for most of your first encounter, and even though he'd shown desperation for a place to live, every action he took seemed tentative.

For the life of you, you hadn't been able to understand why he constantly seemed to be self-sabotaging even though he clearly wanted (or maybe needed) to take the offer—offhandedly mentioning on occasion as you gave him a walkthrough how he could sometimes be forgetful, or how he has a habit of being a bit messy, as if trying to goad you into a reason to turn him away. That was something you took note of a while back, but haven't found the voice to ask about just yet.

Instead, you held out your hand and welcomed your new roommate, a weird sort of pity tugging at your gut when you had seen the way he visibly looked relieved. You helped him move in just the next morning.

Your apartment wasn't fancy or ludacris in any way: a snug third floor, two bedroom tucked away in a high traffic area near campus in upper Manhattan. It laid just outside of the border of student rentals, but around the same price to be considered one. Your terms had been fair: split rent 50/50, try to forewarn about any impactive or trauma causing visitors, don't eat labeled food, etcetera, etcetera. The rules were few and basic, and Peter had no quells.

Realistically, you had only been looking for a person that possessed two things: a personality livable enough that you wouldn't have to suppress the urge to smother them in their sleep, and someone who respected you, your boundaries, and your privacies.

As it turned out, Peter was great at excelling in both of those categories.

And on top of that, he was dorky and funny—two powerful traits that made themselves evident the first time you'd sat down for a meal with him, ordering from a Thai place that was a little bit away, but you promised him the food was worth it. You had missed the twinge of sad recognition in his eyes, but not the way he talked with his hands even when eating; so animatedly and openly as you asked about his interests and he accidentally began to ramble about multiversal theory and how modern technology is just a few geniuses away from achieving that travel if enough people believed in the idea enough to focus studies in those areas. He went quiet when he noticed you watching him with a gentle smile.

And as if that hadn't been enough giveaway, you also quickly realized he was also ridiculously smart. One look at his schedule made you want to shrivel up on the spot. It took an entire twenty minutes just for you to explain to Peter just how complex his subjects really were; classes that were recommended only for seniors or returning alumni because of their difficulty level. He had been casually complaining about the homework not being engaging enough. He was now someone you lived in both fear and awe of.

And right now, someone of annoyance.

It was currently 2:44 in the morning on a Saturday morning. You yourself had just gotten back home less than an hour ago to what you had believed to be a quiet home. At first, you had been more than thankful, believing that Peter was asleep in his bedroom as you quietly climbed through your bedroom window in your suit, bruised and sore. You had tiptoed to the bathroom, and had taken a shower and gotten dressed in record time.