Spider-Man Imagines I

For A Reason | Peter Parker [TH]

"So," Peter said, grabbing his straw. He stirred his milkshake and then took a sip, looking at you through wide eyes, waiting.

You couldn't swallow the mouthful of chocolate shake in your mouth. This was it.

You had wanted to tell him about your feelings because it was so hard to keep them secret anymore. Peter was your best friend, the guy you trusted above all guys. He was kind and smart and funny and treated you so sweetly...

So he had to like you back, right?

It was easy to say no. No, of course he doesn't care about you like that! He is your best friend.

But-

Sometimes, the way he looked at you. The way he reached for your hand when you had a panic attack. The way he assured you, sent you a text after you walked home to make sure you got home safe, it all meant something.

It had to.

His lips pulled away from the straw. He licked them. "___? You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding fast. "Uh. Yeah. Sorry." You stirred your milkshake and cleared your throat. "I-I just wanted to tell you..." Another pause.

He laughed softly. "You can tell me anything, you know."

You nodded. Yeah, you could. It was Peter. He loved you. He had said it before - but in what way?

"Okay," you said. You gave him a nervous smile. "I, uh, wanted to tell you that I like you. Like, more than like. And I know the way I'm saying it is cliche, and this is all so freaking cliche, but I wanted to tell you before Valentine's Day. Er - before the dance. 'Cause I was gonna ask you to be my date."

A hopeful smile from you and a long moment after, and Peter looked down at his milkshake.

"O-oh," he choked. He scratched the top of his head and then looked at you. "I'd, uh, love to be your date to the dance." You grinned, all of your anxiety fluttering out of your belly. You let out a sigh of relief and took a sip of your milkshake. Peter continued. "But... I... don't feel the same way."

Your straw dropped out of your mouth. You gulped down foamy chocolate and felt dread replace the anxious butterflies. "You don't?"

"No," he said quietly. "I'm, uh, sorry. But-"

You couldn't believe it. "But you said yes," you whispered. "And that- you love me."

"I do love you," he said, and he reached over for your hands that were wrapped around your glass. You pulled them away and onto your lap. He sighed. "And I want to go to the dance with you. I just don't feel that way for you, okay?"

You didn't reply. What could you say? And how many people in the booths around you were listening?

Oh, gosh. You felt sick.

"You're my best friend," he tried again. "And you have no idea what your friendship means to me."

"Don't," you said softly. You felt like crying. "I want to be more than that."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

You nodded. "It's okay. It's fine, actually." You grabbed your backpack. Digging around in the front pocket, you dumped a few dollars on the table for a tip. Then you grabbed your coat and things and slid out of the booth.

"___," Peter called after you sadly. "___, don't go-"

The bell chimed, signalling your exit before he could even finish.

...

The next day at school, Peter and Ned waited for you as always. Peter had told Ned a short version of the story, of what had happened, and expressed his guilt and worry. You hadn't answered either of them when they sent you endless texts.

So when you walked by, Peter almost sighed with relief-

But then you walked right by them.

He furrowed his eyebrows for just a second before reaching around Ned to grab the back of your backpack. "___, hey!" he said. You turned around. "Hey, didn't you see us?"

"Yes," you said, voice softer than usual.

"Well, what's up?" he asked. "Why did you walk by?"

"Um." You stepped sideways so he let you go. "I... Pete, I can't just hang out with you anymore. It sucks, and I'm sorry, but-" You shook your head. "What I said yesterday... and you-"

"___, don't," he said. "You and I can still-"

"No," you said. "We can't. I'm sorry."

Ned frowned, looking down at his feet. Peter shook his head.

"Please, ___," he said. "You're my best friend. I don't care about feelings-"

"Well I do, Pete," you said. "And getting turned down was embarrassing. Anyway, you don't have to take me to the dance, either. I'm going with Flash."

"What?" he gasped.

"Whoa," Ned said. "Thompson?"

"Uh-huh," you said. "He likes me, and I like him too, I guess. And that is the whole point of the dance. To go with people you like, and who like you back." You gave Peter a sad look.

"___, I am so sorry," he whispered.

You shook your head. "I didn't tell you this for you to feel bad for me. Just-" You sighed. "Everything happens for a reason. I wish this could have worked out better, but it didn't and it can't. Maybe things will be different one day, but until then..." You shrugged. "Bye, Peter."

Peter didn't say anything. He watched you walk off, going to the end of the hall. He saw Flash waiting. Flash held out a hand and you took it, smiling at him. The look Flash gave you was the same one you gave him yesterday.

Peter knew it was good you were with Flash. After all, Flash could treat you well. He obviously cared about you- and that was what mattered. It sucked, what happened. But Flash was the one you needed, not him. Because Flash loved you the way you deserved to be loved, the way Peter wouldn't be able to.

And because Peter loved you, his best friend, he could let that happen and be happy for you.