It had been a week and a half of seclusion in your small apartment.
Pictures taken out of frames were disposed on top of the garbage in thin shreds. Presents cluttered in one of two boxes labeled "throw away" or "donations". Until everything was stored away, you never realized what two years of someone being a part of your life looked like until it was stripped so suddenly.
Your living room oddly represented how you felt inside and out. Four white walls acting as the barrier to your friends, family, and other loved ones and if they somehow slipped through, the thick coats of paint supported by your lies and excuses of being okay kept them at bay.
The heartbreak Ethan caused wasn't the end of you; You still showered, but only changed into sweats or something that didn't hug to your body. You still ate, only when you felt hungry, though your appetite was slowly diminishing by the day. You still slept, but only for small periods throughout the night when you weren't tossing and turning in a bed that once occupied two people.
You weren't sure if the peaceful silence was a blessing or a curse, maybe even both. On one hand, the quietness left you to be alone with the sound of your favorite music bouncing off your walls, the lyrics drowning your thoughts. But, on the other hand, you were surrounded by memories of someone who didn't want you back and made you too insecure to show your face to anyone outside your barrier, the comfort zone.
Brown cardboard boxes were scattered on the bedroom floor and stored with mementos, becoming bittersweet gifts you knew you didn't think you would throw away. You were halfway through the purge, imagining before that you'd turn a new leaf and feel like you were able to breathe. Instead, the cracks in your heart were burrowing further and a heavier weight added to your weak shoulders. You let a few tears roll down your cheeks before fleeing to the kitchen to make another cup of tea to calm you down.
You called your mom earlier in the week, asking her how to get stains out of your white pillowcases without ruining them. Of course, she told you how to but she wondered why you had been crying. After spilling the words from your lips, a more bitter tears rolled down your cheeks and she could hear the breaking of your voice. She let you sob for a few seconds, giving her time to also take in the information. She never heard you so sad and unhappy that it was breaking her own heart.
"Have you told Peter?" She asked.
You cleared your throat, "No.. not yet, at least."
Peter was your best friend, there was never a doubt about it. Since you met as kids, you grew together but also helped each other to grow. He was your shoulder to cry on, the person that held an umbrella for you on rainy days and protected you like no one else had. You were his ear, as if you were a journal who listened to his problems, his struggles and home life. You were the reliable girl that rubbed his back when he broke into tears from how stressed he could get and hugged him when he doesn't have to ask.
Many people, including your parents, called you inseparable which was basically true. Your mom always joked about how you two would get married someday. She stated that the "crazy fog" would lifted from your brain and you would finally realized Peter was your prince charming.
Of course, you detested the idea knowing how honest you and Peter were about your friendship for that to never happen. At times, it was frustrating being constantly being told you would be a great couple when it was merely a close friendship. At first, you and Peter found those kinds of statements awkward, but as you matured to the little assumptions, you both embraced it and joked about the rumors people made up.
You thought if you ever got this low in life, he would be the first person's arms you run into. Someone you knew too well and trusted with your secrets and insecurities. Strangely, Peter was the last person you wanted to go to right now.
When it came to your relationship with your ex, he wasn't too fond of him when you did date. He never abused or manipulated you, but there was something about him that put him off. Peter clarified his dislikeness was not out of jealousy but more embetterment towards you. That Ethan was getting nowhere with his life and the fact he still lived with his parents wasn't helping you picturing a life with him, a picket white fence life you wanted so badly.
Peter knew you had a plan for everything and a future drawn in great detail while Ethan was on the opposite side of the spectrum. He didn't want you worrying about when your—now ex—boyfriend was hitting dead ends and you were paving a road of success. Peter didn't want you constantly having to pick him up when he fell down, he didn't want Ethan holding you back.
You weren't going to lie to yourself that Peter was right sometimes, but for some reason, you became more stubborn and rebelled against him. He always said you should be treated better which followed by you instantly denying what he was saying, reminding him he has never been in a relationship and wouldn't understand.
Even though those comments hurt his feelings, Peter was there for you after every fight you had with Ethan. Every time you and him yelled at each other so booming, your voices cracked and developed scratchy into the next morning. Crazy late nights when you told each other you couldn't stand one another or any instance where you two disagreed, Peter would be on the other side of the phone or even on the outside of your door.
On-and-off was the norm for you and Ethan, but this was the last time and you didn't see it coming.
Your stubbornness didn't have the will to tell your best friend about your sudden heartbreak. You assumed he would have a happy reaction to the news and feared the number of "i told you so's" that would be hard pill you already swallowed. But then again, you knew Peter wasn't the type of person to rub something like this in your face.
But for him to be right all along after this rollercoaster of a relationship, were you really expecting him to react any other way? You felt embarrassed for not taking his advice and filled yourself with unnecessary regret for not listening.
While you woke up that day heartbroken, Peter stood in line at the local coffee shop. It was the first Sunday of Christmas break and he thought a nice way to kick off a month off would be two hot chocolates topped with soft marshmallows.
As he took a few steps forward to the space in front of him, Peter slid his phone from his jacket pocket and saw there was no reply to his text from the previous night. He shrugged it off, thinking you were taking advantage of sleeping in.
He had a recyclable cup holder in one hand while the other hand tucked in his front, jean pocket. Peter was ready to annoy you by walking in your always-opened door but the deadbolt was locked. His eyebrows furrowed, leaning his ear toward the door and tapping his knuckles against the wood.
"Y/N? You there?" Peter asked concerned.
He only heard silence on the other side because you were in the shower, trying to steam the stress away.
After waiting there a few more seconds, Peter hesitated to knock again. He froze but took back his hand, deciding you were busy at your parents house that was out of state or still sleeping. Keeping those thoughts in mind, Peter walked away to Ned's apartment that was only a block away. Once Peter arrived there, he excused himself to Ned's bedroom to call you.
"Hey it's Y/N. Leave a message at the beep." Your sweet voice spoke.
"Hey, uh- It's Peter. Well, you know that, but.. I assumed you went home for the holidays. I stopped by and you didn't answer.. Is everything okay? Call me." He secured his thin lips together before ending the message there, stopping his nervous pace around the room.
That would only be one of many voicemails wondering if you were alright. But, he respected your space and if something seemed more than wrong, he would have already been over there in a heartbeat.
For that same week and a half, Peter was glued to his phone and checking it every two minutes for any sign that you were okay, maybe even alive.
Peter was focused at his desk with his phone inches from his laptop. He was getting antsy, there was no covering that with the constant tapping of his left foot and distracting himself to not be so invested in whether you were okay or not. His bottom lip was pouted and his right hand underneath his chin, locking eyes with his computer screen to see if any other engineering classes were available.
A deep breath left from his chest, pushing away from his desk and leaning in his chair so his head could lean back. The chestnut curls fell off his forehead until he combed through the ungelled mop with his fingers. He closed his tired eyes tightly and pinched his nose bridge to find some way to breathe better.
Before he could adjust back to his posture, his phone lit up suddenly and Peter practically fell out of his seat to see if it was your name on that cracked screen. He swiped it from his desk, hoping it was you but instead your mom's number was displayed. His tongue wet his lips and stared intently at the phone before sliding his thumb across the screen.
"Peter?" She asked.
"Hi, how- how are you?" It had been years of knowing your parents, but his voice still got a little shaky.
"Hi honey. May didn't answer, but I just wanted to tell you, you are more than welcomed to come to our Christmas party next weekend. I honestly don't know why I'm even asking." Your mom chuckled as she sat at the dining room table with a cup of tea.
"Yeah, that sounds amazing. Thank you." He grinned, standing on his feet to go to his closet.
"Great. Can't wait to see you." She replied.
"Um, can I ask something?" Peter spoke quickly before she hung up.
"Of course, what's going on?" Your mom became concerned at his worried tone.
"Have you heard from Y/N? It's been like a week- I don't know if she's mad at me or she's okay. Is she okay?" Peter started to chew on the nail of his index finger, anxious for her answer.
She was surprised to his question, thinking that Peter would know by now. Your mother didn't know if it was her place to tell but at the same time, she knew yours and Peter's bond and knew he wouldn't push it till you were ready to talk.
"Y/N and Ethan broke up."
Peter's jaw tightened and his eyes directed to the floor. He massaged the back of his neck by pushing his fingers into each strained side. He thought this is what he wanted, this is what he had been waiting for you to realize.
"Peter, are you still there?"
He rose his head, realizing he had zoned out after hearing her news.
"Yes, yeah. I'm sorry. They broke up?" He reassured to make sure he actually heard what he did.
"Yeah.." Your mom sighed. Peter was still speechless.
"I don't want to get into detail of what she told me last week, but she is so broken up about it, Peter." Her hand gripped around her warm, clay coffee mug.
"I assumed she went home for the holidays."
"She hasn't called me since Friday, maybe." She stated.
Peter hadn't heard from you since two Fridays ago which made him wonder what you had been doing in the apartment for the past fourteen days.
He grabbed his army-green, cargo jacket at the bottom of his twin bed, nudging the phone between his ear and shoulder.
"Sorry, Mrs. Y/L/N, but I have to go. I completely forgot about something. Thanks for the call." He said struggling to wiggle into his arms into the jacket sleeves. He heard your mother's quick goodbye and pressed the red button.
Peter groaned, patting himself down to find his keys. If they weren't on him or in his sight, he knew it would take some time to find them. Walking wasn't a pain as much as the cold weather made it. He flipped his hood over his head and left without locking the door.
•••
Your bed creaked as you threw another filled box to settle into the fluffy duvet. The soreness in your shoulders ached, leaning your upper body back to crack the kinks your spine. All you could do was stand there from being tired of this lengthy process.
When you were able to stand there frozen, a random wave of emotion hit you and filled your eyes with tears. You sealed your lips to prevent any tears from slipping away, but you realized it was better out than in.
You stood there with your head down and your hands on your hips. Tears trailed down your cheeks and over your lips, savoring the salty and bitter taste. They continued traveling off your chin, leaving droplet stains on the light color of your sweatshirt. You were finally more defeated than you had been since the two of you broke up. You spent so long trying your hardest to be okay, to find some inner peace, but to no avail.
You place your right hand against your heated forehead, your face turning red by the second. You tried to remember to breath in through your nose and out of your mouth when the room started spinning.
After your blood-shot eyes opened, a long exhale passed your lips and you slowly lowered to your carpet since the bed was taken up by seven or eight large boxes.
At first your elbows were propped against your knees, your heels angling the ground with your hands meeting together. It wasn't the most comfortable position when the goal was trying to breathe again.
A deep breath made its way to your belly as you laid with your back flat and your arms above your head. You were surprised you hadn't tried this before with how comfortable it was.
As Peter approached your door, he was anticipating to sing a speech through the thick wood. Instead, when he turned the knob and the door was unlocked. He cracked it enough to stick his head in, his golden-brown eyes curiously roaming the complex.
"Y/N?" His voice echoed off the hollow walls.
You thought it was your imagination getting the best of you at his voice, not responding because you believed it was called out your head.
Peter took a few steps inside while his eyes continued to roam. Leftover chinese boxes and styrofoam plates flooding from the trash can, empty bottles of water scattered against the counter and a pile of untouched mail stacked by the sink.
"It's Peter." He spoke again.
It's just your imagination.
He laid his jacket on the back of your couch, seeing a stack of boxes by your TV labeled "throw away" in your quirky handwriting. Peter slid his hands into his front, pants pockets when he looked around your apartment and saw how bare the walls were. He guessed this is what you had been up to the past two weeks, trying to erase the past of you and Ethan.
The sun peeked through your dark, grey curtains made the room illuminate with strips of light across your baggy sweats that warmed your cold toes. You stared at the blank ceiling and scrunching your eyebrows together as painful memories floated throughout your head. You kicked yourself for falling so hard for Ethan, wondering if the pain he chiseled into your heart would ever be filled again.
Peter's sneakers creaked against the hardwood floors as he walked down the hallway. Your bedroom door was ajar and Peter took a step in, placing his hand on the frame when he saw the sight of you. Lying on the floor as if you were dead in a coffin. Your hair sprawled between the carpet and your eyes closed with heavy bags beneath.
He tapped his knuckles against the door and you twitched from the sudden noise. Your sight was sideways but you recognized Peter's face from any angle. You pushed your weight on your elbows, putting your back against the end of the bed.
"Ah— I didn't scare you, did I?" Peter jeered.
You wanted to smile, but there was no happiness for you to force it on your face.
"Sorry." You mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him and looking back at the floor.
He looked at all the boxes on your bed, various titles on each one written in a thick black sharpie. Some of them were taped closed with clear duct tape and others couldn't fit everything into its box. A pile of your dirty clothes was spilling out of your hamper by the bed and glasses with a bottle of advil crowded your bedside table.
Now Peter saw how you had cut yourself off from everyone including your old self. It scared him almost, he'd never seen your place such a mess because you loved it spotless. Sometimes he believed if you weren't able to handle your relationship with Ethan, cleaning was something you had control over. He didn't want to treat you like a case, but he was your best friend— he always worried about you.
"What are you uh— doing?" He asked, his one hand was balled into a fist and lightly punched into the palm of the other.
You started choking up on your words again. Scared to admit why you were hiding from everyone and him. Your throat dried up and you tried to swallow the lump in your airway. Your teeth sinked into your inner, bottom lip before you looked back into his big, brown eyes.
"Packing Ethan's stuff.." You confessed.
Peter's lips moved to the side, cracking his thumb knuckle as he saw you take a deep breath.
"Can I do anything to help?" He asked, patting both his hands to his sides.
You nodded your head, "I'm fine."
Peter lifted his head and looked at all the boxes congested on your bed.
"C'mon, you can't get rid of me that easy." He grinned, getting on his feet and reaching his hand down for yours.
At first, you glared at him with teary eyes but you placed your hands into his with a firm hold and your thumbs wrapped around the others. Peter pulled your weight onto your feet and caught you when you stumbled.
"Let's start with these boxes. Where do they go?" He asked.
"The trash or goodwill." You replied, crossing your arms before you reached for a stuffed animal turtle.
Ethan bought it for you when you went on an aquarium date. It meant so much to you, having a home on your nightstand and being the last thing before you turn the light out.
"Nope, it's goodwill or trash." Peter said as he grabbed a box in one hand and a black trash bag in the other. He held them out both toward you as you squeezed the plush toy.
There was no flight or fight response to this. You knew you had to get rid of it and everything connected to Ethan if you wanted to get over him and realize how much better you can be without him.
You tossed it down the garbage bag and Peter smirked at you. You responded with a pout because you were stubborn and he was doing the right thing for you. But apart of trashing something close to heart was the hint of relief taken off your chest.
"So we can pack the boxes to goodwill in your car then throw the trash bags down the chute." He collected one or two more of the heavy duty trash bags.
You nodded your head, "I wanna throw it all away."
Peter froze at your sudden choice.
"Yeah, I wanna get rid of all of it." You assured him, grabbing a trash bag and beginning to toss the items from the boxes into the bags.
Suddenly, your sadness faded and a boiling anger emerged to the surface.
One by one, each trash bags was falling down the long chute into the city dumpster below. You were silent the entirety of the process and Peter didn't mind, although he passed you with warm grins and tried to joke once and awhile. Really anything to hear your sweet voice again.
When you walked back through the door, a satisfaction came to you seeing the living room cleared.
Peter stood behind you and coiled his arms around your torso, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. His eyes wandered the room as yours did and you hum as you pull away from his arms.
"It looks so empty." You rub your shoulders, running your thumbs over your skin.
"It's a step.." Peter acknowledged you were going in the right direction.
You nodded, crossing your arms as you two stood there in silence.
"Well, I'm gonna go and-"
"You're leaving?" You cut him off.
Peter raised his eyebrows and his eyes opened a bit, "Not if you don't want me to."
"Can you please stay?" You asked shyly.
He nodded before his mind could think, "Of course."
You walked toward him, not being able to resist your urge to hug him. You snuggled into his body and Peter never felt an embrace so tight from you. His smell of pine-like cologne mixed with the fresh smell of his clothes was comforting. The world melted around you the tighter you squeeze his strong body.
Peter smiled as you held him. His arms didn't refuse to curl around your shoulders and hug you back. He could finally see you coming back to life, maybe even a hint of the old you. The one before Ethan came into your life and didn't control your happiness.
"Well, since you're keeping me hostage, what should we do?" Peter jeered as he pulled away.
"I'm sure if I dig through my closet, I can find some Star Wars movies some nerd gave me for Christmas two years ago." You joked back and he smiled, playfully shoving your shoulder.
You walked back to your room and stood in front of your closet, turning the knob to open the small dark room. Your hand reached out to find the string, tugging on it to shine light on your top shelf you rarely touched.
Your weight went to the tips of your toes as your fingers brushed against the sides of the plastic tub. It tipped over from the shelf and you caught it fast enough in your arms. Most of it contained things you keep that didn't have a stop in your apartment but you didn't want to lose.
You placed it on the floor, sitting on your legs as you scuffled throughout the unorganized mess of mementos. As you continued to dig, your eyebrows knitted together when you find a face down picture frame. When you flipped it over, your expression lighten at the sight of an old photo.
It was the first day of second grade and you insisted on wearing a Disney princess dress. Your mom suggested the baggy overalls and bright shirts you usually wore, but apparently it felt like a different day. Next to you was Peter, who just lost one of his front teeth and was never seen without a New York Mets cap on his curly head.
The memory was warm, remembering it like it was yesterday. You were two kids playing on the playground and when you scraped your knee from falling too hard, Peter was there with a bandage.
"Hey, they were on your top shelf." Peter interrupted.
He paused at what you were looking at, "What's that?"
"First day of the third grade." You giggled, passing him the picture as he sat back next to you.
"Yeah, everyone thought you were the weird girl who dressed up as a princess everyday."
"Except you." You grin.
"Well we were already friends so don't flatter yourself." He chuckled and you run your fingers through your hair.
You both laughed a little at all the childhood memories that made the two of you the friends you are today. You both got up and you placed the picture on your nightstand, tapping your fingers against the top of the frame.
"Twelve years later, she fell in love with the beast instead of the princes, I guess." You tried humor your heartbreak, thinking it was helping you get over Ethan.
"You know, you don't have to laugh about it today." Peter reassured your pain.
"I need to get over it someday." You admitted.
As you try to giggle, a wave of sadness was crashing down again and you didn't know why. You had a smile on your face but tears slipped from your waterline and the corners of your mouth twitched between going up and down. The defeated feeling of your crushed heart creeped back up and you couldn't seem to hide it this time.
He watched you start to crumble as your face scrunched together and tears released down your cheeks. You pressed the bottom of your palm into your forehead, facing the ground as a stuttering cry left your lips.
"Come here." Peter held out his arms and you stepped back into them.
You curled up a bit, both of you sitting on your bed. The tears profusely streamed down your cheeks and Peter held you tighter.
You couldn't hold the pain anymore and it broke Peter's heart.
"Why did he leave me so easily?" You sobbed, gritting your teeth together to try to get yourself to stop wailing.
Peter sat the both of you on your bed and cautiously put his hand on your back. His fingers began rubbing slowly along your spine to calm you down. He put his hand on your shoulder, lifting your upper body so you wouldn't hyperventilate. Your breaths were deep and uneven and you became lightheaded in a few seconds.
You leaned into Peter's arms as you continued to whimper, feeling comfort in his embrace. His fingers brushed your stray hairs away from your face and tried to look down at you.
"Hey, hey, hey.. Breathe." Peter calmly commanded.
You blinked the tears away and started to inhale for a few seconds then exhale the same amount of time. The feeling of fresh air recycling throughout your lungs felt possible once you calmed down.
Peter lightly compressed the lower half of his face on the top of your head, brushing his cheek against your hair. Your hands moved on his arm and latched a grip, craving to be close to him for any sort of affection.
"Am I gonna be alright?" You asked him, sniffling as you gripped the fabric of his clothes tighter.
At first, he thought it was a silly question but you were in a mindset where Ethan was the sun in your world one day and suddenly you were in the dark and cold.
"Of course." He spoke softly.
Peter's answer to your lingering question calmed you down a bit. He could have lied to shut you up, but he wholeheartedly believed you would be okay, sooner than you intended.
You pulled away from Peter's arms, trying to hold it together and wipe your smeared tears away. You rested your head against his shoulder, trying to hold in your fading cries and quick sniffles. He slowly tilted his head on yours as his hand smoothly caressed your thigh.
"Can we please lay here for a while and ignore... literally everything else?" You abruptly asked, not making it a question.
"Yeah- yeah, sure." Peter accepted.
Peter slipped his sneakers off as you crawled to the middle of the bed. He had never done this with you, not knowing how to approach this without making you feel uncomfortable. He kneeled into the bed before lying next to you. Your body relaxed as it curled onto his, resting your head on his chest and grabbing a handful of his shirt. With that, Peter reached his arm behind your shoulders to pull you in closer.
You closed your eyes and continued to whimper.
"Thanks.. so much." You whispered.
"After twenty something years of friendship, do you really have to thank me?" Peter joked.
A tear slip onto your lips as you smiled, tasting the bitterness of your cries. You were happy to feel comfort from Peter, like a soft dream overcoming a terrible nightmare. The sparks inside your heart ignited and his love was the burning flame, charging you after being kept away in a dark universe.
Peter had never been so warm before. Like the entirety of your friendship, he felt the world outside you two was another. Anywhere with you was the same feeling he got when the ball dropped at New Years or the finale of fireworks popping in the midnight July sky. He almost called you perfect a few times because that's what you were to him.
He tucked you more into him and you nuzzled your face into the fresh smell of his t-shirt. You didn't want to let him go and you hoped he knew that.
When you opened your eyes, the room was light again and the birds were chirping outside. You lifted your head from Peter's chest and saw the bright blue sky peeking through the blinds.
You didn't expect to wake up next to Peter who was still sleeping soundly. His chestnut curls were messy and you could see the light freckles across his nose bridge. His lips were slightly opened, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth.
You looked at him differently. His simple features were modeled. It didn't feel real lying next to him at first— in a bed you had sobbed in for the past weeks. You were on top of sheets that used to wrap around your body for some kind of warmth, but now Peter was your heat. The sinking of the heart and ache for Ethan lingered, but it was being taken over by this new sensation.
"Peter.." You murmured, waking him up.
He closed his eyes tight before opening them, inhaling through his nose as he stretch out his body. His eyes wandered the rook, surprised he fell asleep as well and didn't wake up in his own room.
"Hey- sorry. I guess I fell asleep too." Peter rubbed his eyes with his palms.
"No worries, it was nice." You admit, still lying on him.
Peter didn't want to move and neither did you. He placed his hands behind his head, letting you sit up and rest your elbow into the bed supporting your hand against the side of your neck. You tilted your head at Peter and mesmerized how effortlessly cute he was.
"You feel better?" He asked you.
You nod your head, "Yeah.. Yesterday, I felt like I was gonna die from a broken heart and I'm waking up feeling.. okay."
"Well, that's always a good sign." He smiled.
"Yeah.." You giggled, a bit of a smile peeking.
"Wanna get breakfast somewhere? I know a diner with some nice greasy eggs." Peter smirked at you, cocking an eyebrow.
You smiled back, "Better than take out."
For the next two weeks, you and Peter spent day into night together. Not spending nights like he did the first time, but you both laid awake thinking about each other. It was the first time you were in Peter's arms and he didn't want it any other way. He stared at his ceiling and thought back to hearing your low breathing and slow hands unconsciously roaming his body.
He felt bad for his feelings growing stronger as you were trying to get over Ethan, but the thought of you wouldn't leave his head.
As your best friend, he felt wrong for looking at you and thinking about you this way— you were vulnerable and he didn't want to take advantage of that, especially with what you went through with your recent past. He didn't want to be the one causing you to confine yourself.
Meanwhile, you were on the same page—which was common between you two. You wondered if your heartache was using Peter as some kind of temporary glue. You had never looked at him that way, thought about him this way. Something shifted and you knew why but also didn't.
You always cared for Peter but you had never been closer than that one night. He cared about you, would go lengths to see you smile. You loved his voice, his jokes, his love of being ambitious and unbelievably smart. In high school, you remember staking out dumpsters while he dug through them to find old tech he'd program back to life.
As you tried to make your problems fade away by scrolling through instagram, your mom's advice starting piecing together. Maybe, Peter was your prince. But, he's your best friend.. he was your best friend.
It came to the night of your parents annual Christmas party and you were sitting at the vanity in your old room, getting ready for more guests to arrive. It was the same people every year so, you were never nervous for a new faces or any awkward conversations. But, thinking about Peter standing inches away in the same room as you was planting butterflies in the pit of your stomach.
You applied a dark maroon lipstick on your lips to match the color of your dress. You kept pulling on the sleeves that ended at your elbow and adjusting the black, thin belt around your waist. You pictured numerous scenarios since you woke up that morning, but those were your expectations—merely made up to what you wanted to happen.
Peter arrived with his Aunt May downstairs, both of them dressed classy for the night. He had on one of Ben's old suits that fit him like a glove with a pair of black converse.He wasn't one to dress completely fancy without some part of his style tying into the required attire.
"Hi Peter. Hi May." Your mom greeted the two, friendly as always.
Peter's eyes searched the room for you, his palms sweaty at how nerve wracked he was to see you. He gulped when he was reluctant to find your face in the crowd till a shadow was coming closer in the hallway. When the dark figure disappeared, you stepped out and he was speechless.
His dark brown eyes turned glassy and his heart was starting to beat faster. His look was pleading, almost gawking and not being able to take his eyes off you. You were radiant and glowed when you walked into the room with a bright, cute smile.
"Hey." You smiled at him as you two embraced a hug.
"Hey." He grinned, leaning his chin against your shoulder before pulling away.
"You look gorgeous." Peter confidently admitted.
You quickly glanced at his shoes till you look back at his tousled curls, "And you look so handsome."
"May practically forced me to wear this suit." He joked, playing with the cufflink.
"Well, it looks really nice." You complimented before walking away to speak to your parents.
Peter watched you walk away and the sway of your hair as you turned.
"What are you smiling so hard about?" May teased him.
"Nothin" He grinned at May, a tint of pink on his cheeks.
As the lively night went on, you and Peter exchanged quick glances across the room. You both couldn't decide whether or not to open your mouths and what if you had to say was something worth saying.
Everytime his russet brown eyes looked your way, you turned the other cheek and a heat rose to the surface of the skin on your face. He watched you spin a lock of your hair around your index finger, tangling and lightly pulling on it while you spoke to someone else.
Peter hadn't felt this wound up about a girl since Liz and Michelle in high school. He was wrapped around your finger to say the least.
Once the time told midnight, guests started leaving and you walked over to the bay window between the kitchen and the living room. You sat down on the soft cushion and unstrapped the buckles of your heels, the euphoric feeling of taking off the pressure from your soles.
You stretched your legs, crossing your ankles and turning your head toward the window. A light snowfall was descending from the night sky, already piling up on your back porch and tree branches. The sight was immaculate with a half moon hung in the midnight scene.
"It's snowing?" A voice spoke behind you.
You turned and saw Peter, his hands in his pants pockets and approaching slowly as he looked out the window.
"Yeah. It's really pretty." You grin.
You pulled your feet away and let them hang off. The two of you sat next to each other, leg pressed to the other's and looked at everyone gathered in the living room.
"You know, this place is really special." Peter looked at you.
"Why is that?"
"It's where I proposed at the mature age of eleven." He chuckled and you nodded.
"Oh yeah— Haven't thought about that in forever."
"Yeah, I said we could share animal crackers by the swing set and you could borrow my bike on weekends." Peter reminisced and you giggled again.
"Until I fell off that one time and you told me I could borrow it only if you drove and I was sitting on the front." You snorted and both of your laughters filled the room.
"Would have rather been with you this entire time." You admitted.
Peter glanced up at you, "Well, it killed me to see you with that douchebag."
You faced each other, both of you not knowing if this was your ways of taking a leap of faith.
"These past few days, I haven't been able to stop— thinking about you. Call me crazy, I just can't get you out of my head and- and.." Peter shyly confessed.
You saw his head looked toward the ground and he rubbed the back of his neck. You sighed lightly in relief, the corners of your mouth turning up as you watched him crack his knuckles.
Your fingers brushed under his chin, curling them for him to face your way at which he began mumbling his nervous rambling.
"Kiss me, Parker." You whisper, still grinning.
With that, Peter wet his lips before he leaned in slowly and his heart was pounding out of his chest. Your lips brushed against his before they planted on his that were incredibly soft and smooth. He got a sweet taste of the cherry flavor of your lipstick as he pressed his lips against yours again.
It was the kiss to wake you up from a long, dreadful sleep.
A little too good to be true.
His hand rested on your neck and his thumb caressed your cheek, both of you not taking in that this was happening right now.
When you pull away, you opened your eyes and Peter's were still closed for a split second. He thought he was dreaming and was expecting to wake up in his dorm room bed.
"I swear, it was better planned when I rehearsed in the mirror this morning." Peter chuckled as he tucked your hair behind your ear.
"Don't worry— it wouldn't be you if you didn't mess up a little." You snickered before pulling him in for another kiss.