Walking into school the next day was tiring. You felt so drained, mostly due to the total of two hours of restless sleep you'd managed to get, but also because you had woken up with the the same horrible thought you'd fallen asleep during:
You'd ended things with your boyfriend, who also happened to be your best friend, who also happened to be Spider-Man.
And now you felt so alone.
You trudged to your locker, boots damp with the snow from outside, socks cold and wet. Oh well. It matched your mood.
It took you three tries to get the combination right on your locker, giving you a nice guess on how wonderful your day was gonna be.
When you opened your locker, a nice avalanche of books and folders and notebooks toppled out and fell on your feet. You gasped, half in shock and half in pain, and stared at the mess as the students around you walked by, unhinged by their fellow classmate falling apart little by little.
Today couldn't be better, you thought sarcastically, dropping down to start picking things up.
"Hey, Sn- uh, ___," a voice said, making you look to your right.
Peter Parker, a classmate, was standing at his locker down at the end of the row. He looked tired, with bags under his eyes and a frown the reflected your own.
"Need some help?" he asked. He shut his locker and walked over to you, kneeling down and picking up some scattered papers.
You glanced at him, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "Uh, thanks," you said.
"No problem," he replied, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he handed you the worksheets. He observed your eyes carefully. "You look tired."
"So do you," you pointed out.
He looked away, picking up one of your pencils. "Long night, bad morning," he explained. He handed it to you.
You sighed. "Same here."
His eyes darted over to look at you. You stood up, shoving the papers into your locker, trying to get them to stay so you could avoid another avalanche.
"What happened with you?" he asked, "if you don't mind my asking."
"Oh. Um..." You felt embarrassed as you shut your locker, avoiding eye contact with the boy you barely knew. "I had a fight with my boyfriend, sorta. And it didn't end well."
"Oh."
You nodded.
"That... sucks," he said. "You don't think you'll be able to fix it? Like, forgive him?"
You blew. "I mean... I can forgive him, sure, but- we can't be fixed. He's sort of a private guy, but some of the things he refused to tell me were ridiculous, even for him."
"He sounds like an idiot," Peter said with an oddly bitter tone."I mean, any guy to treat you like that would be stupid, ya know? You're really nice."
You looked at him and smiled warmly. "Thanks, Peter. That's... really nice to say. And he's not a total idiot, I guess." You looked a little sad again. "I really liked him. Still do, despite all I said to his face." Your heart cracked a little bit.
He was quiet for a minute, contemplating your words. The silence was stiff and weird, and you felt awkward. You were just about to say goodbye and head to Chem when he started to talk again.
"You wanna get a coffee with me after school? It seems like we both need it." He shrugged one shoulder.
"Sure," you said. "Um... where can I meet you?"
"Outside the main doors," he said. He tapped his fist against the set of lockers and bit his lips. "Wait for me there."
Your heart sank a little bit. That was where you usually met Spider-Man after a long school day - where you waited for him, eager to be in his presence.
Still, you grinned.
"That sounds great. See you then."
...
You didn't have to wait too long before he showed up, thumbs hooked around the straps of a brand new backpack, the sleeves of his Midtown sweater rolled up at the elbows despite the temperature being close to freezing. He grinned a lopsided smile of relief when he saw you, like it was an everyday thing to meet you right here.
"You must be cold," you said.
He shrugged. "S'not too bad," he said. When you didn't smile, he tilted his head. "What's wrong?"
"I... uh, used to meet my boyfriend here," you said. Your cheeks burned - you hated talking about personal things to strangers, especially when they probably didn't care about them. "It's sorta weird."
But Peter was a nice guy, and he gave you an understanding, almost guilty look. "Oh. Sorry. We can start meeting somewhere else, if that'll be better for you," he said. "That ex boyfriend of yours must be a real jerk."
You shook your head. "He wasn't. And it's okay to meet here, just... I need time to adjust and heal, I guess. I'm glad you asked me to hang out, though! We rarely get to talk."
"Yeah," he said. "I sit right next to you in Spanish, and I'm sure I'd talk to you a lot more if we weren't always getting those stupid quizzes."
"Yeah, those suck!" you said. He smiled at you. "So. Where's your favorite place to get coffee?"
"Uh, anywhere," he said. "It doesn't really matter to me."
"Okay, cool," you said. "I know this great place down the street. They have a peppermint mocha to die for. Ugh - it's so good! You gotta try it. Wait - do you like peppermint mocha?"
"Yeah," he replied. "I mean, I like hot cocoa more. I knew this person and they made the best cocoa for me all the time. I miss it already."
"Who was it? A grandma or something?" He winced, and you held up your hands. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry."
"No, it's just- she wasn't a grandma, exactly," he said, and he smiled to himself like it was some sort of joke.
"Um... okay," you said. "Well, I've never had their cocoa, but I'm sure it's good, too. Possibly even as good as this mystery girl's homemade hot cocoa."
He looked at you and grinned, shaking his head slowly. His curls bounced with the movement. "I seriously doubt it," he said.