"So let me get this straight, Y/N. Your soulmate is Spider-Man, like, the actual Spider-Man, but as soon as your bond connected, he ran away?" The direct cut of your older sister's words causes you to wince as you nod in sad agreement. "That's so..."
"Stupid?" You offer.
"Yeah," she agrees. Callie begins to pace in front of you. "Why would he do that?" She muses, drawing a hand through her thick hair. "Did he get your number at least?"
You shake your head despondently. "Nope," you respond, voice dry. "He knows my first name, but that's all. He swung away before he got anything more." You sigh loudly and flop back onto your bed dramatically. "I'm doomed to a life of loveless torment."
Callie chuckles. "Nah," she comforts, sitting down beside you. She takes your hand and squeezes your fingers, and for a moment you're transported back a few hours to when it was Spider-Man holding your hand. "He'll come back. He probably just freaked out. It's quite a bit thing, y'know, finding the love of your life. Maybe he just needs some time to process it all."
You hum. "I hope he comes back," you say, staring up at the dark grey of your ceiling.
Your older sister nods sadly. "So do I."
———
Every day for the next week, you retrace your steps down the same street you'd trodden when you'd had your phone snatched, hoping desperately that Spider-Man might return. And every day, you find yourself growing disappointed when he fails to show.
Until the following Thursday.
One full week after your first encounter, contact is made again. And it comes in the form of a folded note arranged neatly on your windowsill. When you first see it, it sticks out as one of the only yellow things in your room, so you quickly make your way over to it and snatch it up, thumbing at the fold until it splits open. Your eyes widen as you read the sloppy script, your heart lodging in your throat as you realise who it's from.
Hey. I'm so sorry I ran away from you last week... It wasn't cool of me at all, and I definitely shouldn't have done it. Please forgive me. If you don't hate me, I'd really like to meet up with you. Tomorrow at 4? That coffee shop on the corner of 22nd and 31st? So sorry again... - Peter x
Despite the week of anxious torment, you find the anger at Peter fading away. You can practically feel the shameful guilt radiating from the lines printed across the page, and find your heart aching to know he's been distressed over his flee.
You find a smile tweaking the corners of your lips as you reread the note several times, each repetition of the words causing your grin to widen. Any residual anger you felt quickly drains away, and despite being completely alone in your room, you find yourself nodding.
———
Come 4pm the following day, and you're a nervous, shaking, bumbling mess.
Unsurprisingly, as you settle into a booth at the side of the café, you can't quite keep ahold of your nerves. Your heart's beating so quickly you're afraid you might pass out, and your hands are so sweaty that you have to abandon the half-written text to your sister due to the slickness of your fingertips. No amount of deep breathing or twiddling with your hair helps: you're completely freaking out.
Before you'd left your apartment, Callie had shoved you into a new dress. It was around knee-length, skater skirt, a cute neckline, and it was yellow. She'd made a point of this, reasoning that there was nothing more fitting than wearing this particular colour to your first date with Peter. And as you sit there, drumming your fingertips over the tabletop, you can't help but agree: there is an awfully nice symmetry between the colours.
Her parting words had been a comment that now chooses to rattle through your ears: I wouldn't be surprised if you get orange today, Y/N.
For most, orange and yellow are colours that appear close to one another: yellow for the first physical connection shared with your soulmate, orange for the emotional. As it's customary for soulmates to spend a while chatting as soon as they've met, it's fairly common for orange to pop up after a conversation with your soulmate. For you, obviously that hasn't been the case yet, but you're hoping this date with him will bring that wonderfully vibrant colour into your life.
The bell on the door to the café rings out, and it's as if the atmosphere shifts. You know, just from the way the air seems to ripple around you, that he's here. Peter is here.
Your eyes snap up, and your gaze falls to the head of a blushing dark-haired boy, his deep-grey eyes swimming in nerves as he awkwardly makes his way towards you, holding a bunch of sunflowers in one hand. The closer he gets, the sharper his details become, and you can't help but temporarily get lost in the swirling thoughts of romance that permeate your brain.
His hair is styled in loose curls across his forehead, and your immediate thought is how soft it looks, and how badly you want to reach out and card your fingers through the strands. The rest of his face is soft - eyes warm and inviting, lips thin but smooth, nose flat, teeth straight. His build is strong and clearly defined, but he's wearing a loose jumper and a pair of dark jeans, so the true nature of his rippled muscles is drowned out.
He's cute.
He's really cute.
"H-Hi," he greets, an uncontrollable smile written across his face. You jump to your feet immediately, and after an awkward moment of indecision, you move forward to settle into his chest. He quickly places the flowers on your table before wrapping you in his arms, his hands settling on your back as his warm body briefly engulfs you. You instantly feel like this is right, and as horrendously cliché as it is, you know this is exactly where you're supposed to be.
"Hi," you reply, pulling back after a few elongated seconds to grin at him. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from all the smiling. "So nice to meet you again." The feeling in your chest is nothing short of a rapturous glee.
His grin sours just a little as you both settle into the booth, your skin cool without his touch. "I'm so sorry about that," he rushes, voice pained. "I freaked out and bolted, and that was a terrible move." Nervous lines crease his forehead as his eyes skate around your face. "Forgive me?"
You nod your head, grinning in spite of yourself. "Sure," you agree, "You brought me sunflowers, I'll do whatever you want."
He chuckles, and the rich noise instantly becomes your favourite sound. "Still," he mumbles. His eyes seem to bore straight into your soul. "I'm sorry."
You reinforce your smile, trying to wad it with as much comfort as you can. "It's okay, Peter. Really. I get it." You reach out to tentatively take his hand, feeling his slender fingers slip around yours. You squeeze his hand and watch through amused eyes as his jaw slackens just a little. "It's scary. This is scary. I understand."
"Thank you," he mumbles, eyes lighting up with something in place of nerves; maybe happiness or excitement.
"Just... One question," you broach. You continue when he nods, "How did you figure out where I live?"
Peter's cheeks flush a deep shade. "It's gonna sound so creepy," he groans, his fingers going to press against his forehead.
"Tell me!" You press, giggling a little when he moans dramatically.
"I- uh, I might have followed you home one day." You feel your eyes widen. "Not in a weird way! I was also going home, and your apartment building is a few blocks before mine, so I just... Noticed which building you went into, and then I saw you watering a plant on your windowsill." He shoots you a coy smile, throwing his hands into the air apologetically. "I'm sorry if that was really invasive, I guess I just didn't know how else to approach you-"
"It's okay," you assure. You know you should probably be a little alarmed, but the facts are lying out in front of you: Peter is sweet, and clearly showing a whole lot of remorse. You don't know him yet, but you know he has pure intentions, and that's enough for you. Plus, like, he's Spider-Man, so you're fairly sure he's a good guy. "Hey, so do you want to get some coffee? We might be here a while."
For the first time, his posture seems to relax. "Yeah," he agrees. He bobs his head as his grin reappears. "I'd really like that."
———
You talk together for hours.
You've never felt this kind of connection before. The way your mind seems to work in sync with Peter's is mystifying. Every time you go to make a joke, he seems to get the punchline before you, and whenever you trail off in the midst of a sentence, he quickly sees how to pick up from you. He seems to understand you, and yet it's only been a few hours since you'd been formally acquainted.
You talk about any and everything: Peter, his friends, his family, and you likewise. His eyes seem to shine like bright stars as he talks about his Aunt May and MJ and Ned, and you realise that you'd be willing to listen to him talk about his loved ones forever. The amount of passion curled around his words is almost addictive, and seems to strike a chord within your heart; you find yourself wondering if he'll ever gush about you like that.
You end up getting kicked out of the café at 9pm closing time, a whole five hours after you met up. So you gather your things, grab Peter's hand, and tug him out into the bustling streets of the city to guide him back to your place.
You've picked up on a few things over the course of the afternoon, but sticking out loud and proud are Peter's nerves. You can tell he isn't necessarily experienced when it comes to romance just from the way a small shiver seems to pass up his arm every time you intertwine your fingers. But he never lets you go and he keeps his palm in yours and the longer you keep your hands connected, the more confident he seems to grow.
You don't mind taking things slowly as long as he's comfortable.
"You aren't taking me somewhere to murder me, are you?" He teases, striding quickly to keep up with you. His hand is warm and soft in yours, and you feel your heart pulse in your chest as he rubs a gentle thumb over the back of your palm.
"Nah," you reply, grinning widely, "I don't think I'm strong enough to kill you, anyway. You're Spider-Man."
Peter scoffs. "I'm sure you'd be able to kill me if you tried hard enough." He pauses to frown, his eyebrows pulling together in the most adorable way. "Wait, why are we even talking about this? This isn't a great topic for a first date."
You laugh loudly, snatching a quick glance at his face. You find the breath dying in the back of your throat, whisked away by a sudden fit of butterflies.
"We, um, we're going up to my building," you explain, trying to recollect your thoughts. "I know you probably have to go home soon, but the view from the roof garden is really nice." You suddenly stop, groaning quietly to yourself. "I mean, now I'm thinking about it, you've probably seen it all before when you go swinging around the city, so we can just abandon that if you don't want to-"
"No, I do," he interrupts, shooting you a reassuring look. "I really want to see it." A shy smile bites at his lips. "Show me, please."
———
The walk back to your building seems to fly by, the minutes blurring together in a collections of laughs, smiles, and heart palpitations. You're surprised you haven't yet found the orange colour bursting to life across your vision, because by now, you're already beginning to feel the start of something rippling through your chest whenever you look at him.
"-And here we are," you announce, clasping your hands together as you step out onto the roof. It's a little after half nine and there's a chill hanging in the air, but the view is still as amazing as always. Outlines of rocketing buildings fill the sky around you, bright yellow lights pierce the night sky, and the distant sounds of muted horns lay stranded in the air. Below is full of chaos, but up here, where you're able to look down over the expanse of the city, you've never felt more clear-minded.
"It's beautiful," Peter murmurs, his hand finding yours. You tug him closer and carefully shuffle into him, resting your head on his shoulder. You try to nestle against as much of his body as possible, craving both the physical intimacy and the waves of body heat he's emitting.
"Beautiful," you repeat, teasing a little. "Are you just saying that to humour me?" You know the centre of a city isn't beautiful: it's polluted, and noisy, and brash. But it's also home, and as you look up to glare jokingly at the boy beside you, the twinkle in his eye suggests he might feel a little of that sense of belonging too.
"You're beautiful," he quickly corrects, his teeth going to brush his lower lip. He turns his eyes down to look at where you're still resting with your head on his shoulder, and nudges your side softly.
"Smooth, Parker," you murmur, fondness lacing your words.
A quiet silence settles between you both. In the deep precipices of your heart, you can feel something there: a longing, an attachment forming. Similarly to how yellow appeared in a rush of heat, you can feel the start of a gentle warmth spreading through your ribcage.
He seems to feel it too.
The hand resting on your side stills its soft rubbing motions, and you both fall still as the warmth inside your chests contracts and expands. You find yourself blinking quickly as adrenaline rushes through your system, and just as you're about to grow concerned, you see it:
Orange.
Orange branding the cityscape around you - flickering from the streetlights and the taxis and the shrouded apartment buildings; orange burning on the deep line of the horizon, the last rays of the dying sun flinging the flickering colour into the sky; orange closer, patterning the logo on Peter's jumper, written in loopy font on a billboard across the road, painting the face of your watch.
"Can you see it?" You mutter, looking over to Peter. In your suspended state of awe, you've drifted from his arms. You meet his wide eyes as he nods, and promptly collapse into a relieved fit of giggle. "It's so bright."
With a soft pout on his face, he pulls you back into his hold and you settle there comfortably. It's remarkable how at ease you already feel, despite knowing him very little time.
"It's incredible. I- I never thought something could look this warm," he finally says. You glance up to see he's blinking back tears. "Thank you- thank you so much for agreeing to meet me today," he repeats, his words hanging heavier in the air.
You feel his lips brush the top of your head, and melt further into him. "I'm so glad I did."
And you stay there as the minutes blur together, wrapped firmly in his arms as you both stare off into the dying lights of the city. For the first time, your heart feels alive - finally woken after a lifetime asleep. And as Peter keeps you close, you can't help but thank the universe for aligning your stars in a way that's led you here: your soul carefully intertwined with that of a boy so special you can already feel your connection deepening.
You've really hit the jackpot.