tw: minor angst... kinda? self-deprecation, cursing... but there's always cursing-
also, before people come at me in the comments, i put "hel" on purpose. not "hell," but "hel." lmao just clarifying, cuz you guys can be scary (ily anyways)
as you marched up the long set of stairs, you cursed the gods that the elevator was broken. tears were staining your cheeks and blurring your eyes, and you took note of the fact that aunt may's car hadn't been in the parking lot.
good.
curling your hand into a fist, as you'd finally made it up to his level, you angrily pounded on the door. granted, there were better ways to confront your pretentious douchebag of a boyfriend, it was decided by your heart (which in this case was the illogical one) that this was the way.
did you look crazy at 10:00pm banging on someone's door?
yes.
were there people staring?
yes.
did that stop you?
no.
a messy haired brunette peeked out of the door, and his eyes widened the moment he took note of who was there.
"oh, no," he murmured quietly as he pulled you gently inside.
"parker, we past 'oh, no' territory! we are in 'oh, fuck' territory, and i expect you to act like it!" peter winced at that, you never, never, never called him by his last name unless you were furious, and it was quite obvious that you were even past that.
"y/n, angel, i-" you melted at his pet name for you, and for a second you wanted to instantly forgive and forget everything that'd happened.
but you snapped out of that for the sake of yourself, "peter, please. this is the 6th time this week you've either last minute canceled or stood me up! i was waiting for two and a half hours for you! and god, you promised you'd be there this time! you promised, peter, you promised. you- you don't get to do that to me," your voice dropped to a painful whisper, and this heart ached.
"do you know how patient i've been with you? i have no idea what you go out and do, and i'm trying to trust that... you have a good reason, i am, really, but you- you're making it hard. you don't do any of the things that most boyfriends do, and i'm not setting some stupid high expectations or anything, i just want the bare minimum."
he didn't say anything, so you repeated yourself, "the bare mini- minimum, my love. isn't it fair that i at least get that? o-or just tell me what's going on. i promise i won't be mad or anything, please peter, give me something. anything. i won't judge, a-and," you were trying to take deep breaths and calm yourself down, but nothing seemed to be working, and now that you had started, all your thoughts, feelings, and emotions were flooding out.
"you know, at first i didn't even care. i didn't care that you canceled dates, or stood me up, or made stupid, unbelievable excuse, b-because i had you. you were mine, and that was all i needed. but this isn't healthy, peter. this relationship? no, it's not. i-it's not right, not- not to me or to you. tell me peter, tell me w-what's going on," you begged again, sobbing.
but how could he just tell you? it seemed so easy, but actually doing it was so much more different. his head snapped up at the vulnerability in your voice. looking at you turned out to be a mistake. peter's chest squeezed at the sight of your face and the hurt swimming in those beautiful eyes of yours.
his dread mixed with a strange exhilaration at being alone with you like this, and it took all of his willpower not to sweep you up in his arms and never let go. to hold you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings. to kiss you until the two of you were breathless, and to soak in your loving scent that easily brought a smile to his face. to leave everything and everyone behind, just for you.
and the worst part? he couldn't. and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to again. peter begged you silently to not leave. to hold him in your arms instead, for you to whisper sweet nothings to him, and for you to kiss him. for you to just know. to just understand, and that way, it would be so much easier. he wouldn't have to worry about putting words together and making them sound literate, because you would just know.
but you didn't.
and back to square one, he didn't know how to tell you. back to square one, stuck in something more painful than his own webs. back to square one, heartbroken again.
so peter looked back down at the floor, hoping that it would just swallow him up and it'd all be over. he had his spider-man suit under, and the extra layer of clothes he had on top were certainly not helping the sudden heat.
"say something," you urged, "say something to make me stay. tell me you love me, and that you care about us, what we are- or what we were. o-or say that i'm important to you, that you don't want me to go, because if you don't, i'm leaving... and... i'm- i'm not coming back. but get one thing straight, i. am. not. leaving. without. an. answer. i don't care what you say, but you have to say something," you felt so pathetic and stupid as you stood there, right in the middle of his room, waiting for him to say something that would define the fate of your relationship with him. because, utimately, he was the deciding factor.
you knew you wanted this, because peter parker, you'd decided, was the most important this to you. he was above everyone else, including yourself. and if a boy was that important you, but you meant nothing to him, then really, you were pathetic.
he racked his brain, trying to find something to say that would mend everything, make it all better. but in that moment, there was nothing.
"i'm-" he started, trying to string together words as he went along, "i'm, um, i can- explain," peter was crying too now, tears rolling down his soft skin.
and the, with what had to be the worst timing, he felt the hairs on his neck and arms raise, "i- i have to go!"
"yeah, you- wait, what? are you fucking kidding me? right now? gods, peter-"
"i'msosorrywecantalkwhenigetbackandifyoudon'twannastayyoucanletyourselfouti'msosorryiloveyoubutthisisurgent," peter said, barfing out a pool of incoherent words.
and then he left you all alone in his apartment.
so you stood there for a bit, shocked. you walked over to his desk, part of you not wanting to leave. this felt like the only way you could be close to him. after all, you did promise to not leave without an answer, and you owed it to yourself to at least be that petty. taking a seat in his rolling chair, you buried you face into your hands.
no, you weren't the most popular girl in school, not the prettiest, and definitely incomparable to liz, but you weren't eric with glasses who tried to flirt with everyone and instead give them secondhand embarrassment. the kid tried out for swim team... and by some fate of god, he got in.
you sniffled.
maybe if i was prettier, or curvier, or confident. then peter would like me more, right? because who wants to ditch someone like that? he'd never do that to liz. should i have grown out my hair? i'm not skinny enough. i should be skinnier. if i'm skinny, he'll stay.
you dropped your head down onto the table with a thunk. you winced in pain as it hit something hard. sniffling once more and tilting your head slightly you glanced down onto the table. the first thing you noticed were blueprints. many, many blueprints. the were all blue and had the same thing in the bottom corner, the emblem of stark industries.
it probably wasn't right to look through his things, you thought, but whatever.
the one on top looked like a figure. no, a costume. squinting harder, you realized it was a suit... for spider-man. that made sense, he worked for tony, well, interned, so it made sense to have blueprints. although peter had always said that he didn't get "involved" with the avenger at all. he had claimed to do "smaller things," like coffee runs and sometimes programming.
and there was another paper under, a blue print of a small... box? scrawled in what you knew was peter's handwriting, was web cartridges. for spider-guy? there were formulas written under, ones you'd never be smart enough to understand. moving the sheets, you saw the same little box- er, web cartridge.
you picked it up and examined it, noting that it was light-weight. there was a small divot near the edge, and you pressed down on it and pulled it back. there were some wires around it, but other than that, it was empty.
huh. "not involved" my ass, pete.
and then it hit you. the idea weighed heavy on your mind, and it wasn't one you had ever thought of before, but looking at it now, the pieces seemed to latch themselves together. shock burst through you like something of electricity, and it made your head spin.
peter was spider-man.
no, no, he would tell me if he was. because- because we don't keep secrets, right?
but it made so much sense, and looking back on it, you felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. you took in a shaky breath. it all match up, and now that the thought was in your mind, nothing else made sense. you pulled your phone out of your pocket and clicked on the app for live news. and guess what was there?
a live report of spider-man at a robbery, one that had started about 15 minutes ago.
the same time he'd rushed out.
so peter really was spider-man.
and then?
guilt.
it was crushing, and it felt as if it was pounding on your lungs, stopping your breathing. you had yelled at him... for saving people. you were the worst girlfriend ever. the love of your life was out fighting bad guys and you just screamed at him. you made him cry.
well, that made you cry. terrible, ugly, sobs wracked your body and you did nothing to stop them. with that, you left his apartment, feeling shitty. you wanted nothing more to take it all back, because if you'd just kept your mouth shut, there wouldn't have been an argument. it was pitch black as you walked the dark streets of new york.
this was an empty part of town, and the streets were bare.
there was a fine chance that you could die, but in that moment, you couldn't care less. maybe that'd be good. maybe you deserved it. you heard a small thud behind you and froze, feeling a chill pass you.
it was a familiar face, one laced in red and blue.
"y-you shouldn't be walking alone at night, it's-... it's not safe," his voice was timid and hesitant. peter had tried to give himself a small accent, but it didn't do much for him, as you could see right through it.
the same guilt coursed through you again, and you simply could stop the sob that slipped your lips. "i- i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have- i didn't- i didn't know, i'm such a terrible girlfriend, i know, you deserve better, and- and," you were full on crying now, ignoring the 7% that was doubtful of peter being behind mask as your knees felt weak.
"ma'am, i-" there was no point. you knew. he knew you knew. "oh, darling, i'm so sorry, i know i should have told you. please, don't apologize and don't blame youself... you- you didn't know."
"no, you don't under-"
"i do, i get it, but listen to me, you didn't know, you don't get to blame yourself. i didn't tell you and that's on me, got it?" he cried, enveloping you fully. his dark hues were glistening with tears and you looked up at them. " don't you dare say sorry, you understand? gods, i- i love you so much, y/n, so much. i didn't tell you... because i was scared, i thought it'd put you danger, but it doesn't matter, because there's no way in hel that i'm letting anyone touch you."
"i love you, too, peter. i... will we be okay?" you asked softly.
"we are okay."
okay reallll quick, i say "eric w/ glasses" but i'm not shaming people w/ glasses, i'm tryna make a poorly executed reference y'all i have glasses too (btw it was never have i ever... eric for the win)
k that's it
wait i lied
how was it?? was it angsty enough?? i said minor angst, ik, but did you get the feels?? did you cry?? i'll be so happy if someone cried lmao (sounds bad ik) have a good day/night/evening/whatever/you get the point/okay i'll stop now