5.2: Perfume Allergy?

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By the time the third alarm rolls by, my head is tucked beneath my pillow to try and stifle the annoying beeps. I throw my hand up to my bedside table where my phone lays but my fingers meet wood. I must have knocked it off the last time I turned off the alarm.

Groaning, I slowly open my eyes and emerge from my pillow den to try and stop the offensive sound. I pick up my phone, eyes bleary, and peer at the fluorescent numbers at the top of the screen, my brain foggy with sleep and unable to decipher them.

6:50am. When they clear into focus, all signs of sleep clear from my head and I jolt up in bed.

I have to be at school at half seven to catch the coach to the airport. Shit.

Throwing back the covers, the cool summer morning air making my skin pebble, I run to the bathroom with an armful of clothes I had laid out last night.

"Shit, shit, shit," I chant, tripping over as I jump up to pull up my jeans, a toothbrush sticking out of my mouth with the bubbly toothpaste foaming. I spit into the sink and throw myself into a tight long sleeved top, undoing the top two out of three buttons to get a bit of airflow since I don't have time to cover my tattoo.

Once I'm dressed and my top is actually on the right way, I grab a fistful of toiletries and throw them into a makeup bag with some eyeshadow, concealer, and lipstick as an afterthought. The large pile of clothes that I got halfway through packing yesterday before getting... distracted... sits teasingly on top of my suitcase, so close to being in the right place but so far.

I stand frozen in the spot, shaking my hands as I try work out my next quickest move, then shout and run towards the kitchen, pushing down a strawberry pop tart in the toaster and running back to shove everything haphazardly in the suitcase, throwing myself onto it to close the zip. I hear the toaster pop and crawl off, almost falling on my face when I pick up the suitcase, grab the pop tart and my phone, lace up my boots, and run out of the door, just leaving enough time to stick the note I wrote yesterday on the fridge in case she comes back when I'm gone. Figures.

My phone buzzes when I jump through the closing doors on the train and check to see MJ and Peter have both text me, the latter more worried than the former.

Spider Furry <3 - 7:13am
Where are you???

Hellooooo - 7:19am

Me - 7:19am
I'm on the subway
I overslept 👎

Spider Furry - 7:19am
Rose omg

Me - 7:19am
:(
Read

I roll my eyes, holding back a smile and click onto MJ's messages:

WIFE AAAHSGS - 7:17am
You should see this

Peter's pooping his pants

He's so worried lmao

*view image*

Me - 7:20am
LMAOO STOP

It's cute 😭

WIFE AAAHSGS - 7:20am
It's funny

The train lurches to a stop and I slip my phone into my pocket before gathering my bag and hauling it up the stairs and across the street until I'm stood outside Midtown with a group of school kids a few metres away from me and a very hectic looking Peter talking to Ned, his brown eyes flickering around until they rest on me and soften, his lips tilting upwards even as he ducks his head down and tries to make his face look annoyed.

Mind Full of Roses // Peter ParkerWhere stories live. Discover now