I walk out of my room, looking hopefully more confident and put together than I feel, and I sit down at the table.
Rhodey hands me a plate with scrambled eggs and a fork. "You'll have to eat quickly if you want to make it to school on time."
I take a bite. "I know," I say through a mouthful of food.
Rhodey laughs then looks closer at my hands. "What's with the gloves?"
I look down at my hands as if I'm just realizing that I'm wearing them. Black fingerless gloves. The black leather stuck to my hands, concealing my bloody knuckles.
I shrug. "I'm trying out a new fashion style."
"A new fashion style?" Rhodey repeats, looking skeptical. "Since when do you try out new fashion styles?"
"Since now."
Rhodey stays quiet, still watching me suspiciously, as I finish my plate of scrambled eggs, put my plate in the sink, and sling my bag over my shoulder. "I'm heading out now. Tell everyone I said bye."
"I will."
I pause, one foot out the door. "Hey...where is everyone anyway?"
"In a meeting."
"A meeting?" I ask, stepping back in and closing the door behind me. "About what? Me?"
"Yeah. Your dad has an idea." Rhodey says, shrugging. "Hopefully it works out. God knows we need a good idea right about now."
"What's his idea?" I ask.
"Don't know. I'm not exactly in the meeting right now am I?"
"Good point."
He checks his phone for the time. "You should get going. School starts soon."
"Alright. Thanks for breakfast. Love you." I say, stepping out the door.
"Love you too. And, (Y/n)?" He says. I stop and turn to him. "You should probably put some ice or something on your knuckles."
I turn to him, my eyes wide.
How does he....
Of course he knows. He's Rhodey.
I look away and shut the door behind me, but before I do, I whisper, "I will, thanks, Rhodey."
.................................................................................................................................
(Peter's P.O.V.)
I notice (Y/n) before she notices me.
She's wearing a plain grey hoodie, hood up, head down, trying to completely disappear into it. She shuffles through the crowd, trying to get into a clear space where she can actually breathe.
I would go up to her, maybe surprise and scare her a little, but it doesn't seem like the right time. She really hasn't been herself lately. She's been...tense. Jumpy, almost, as if she's expecting something really bad to happen. She almost seems a little...broken. So instead I wait where I am and for her to notice me.
She never told me that she got anxiety attacks.
I wonder how often she gets them?
How long has she been going through this alone?
Why wouldn't she tell me?
I remember her telling me that it was stressful at her house lately, and I make up my mind about something.
Finally, she spots me and starts to walk over, doing her best to put a smile on her face, to smile through all of her pain and worry.
But I know how to tell the difference between her fake smiles and her genuine ones.
"Hey, Peter," she greets as she reaches me.
"Hey," I smile at her, pulling her hood down so I can actually see her face clearly. She looks more tense as I'm doing it, but she doesn't stop me. "Feeling any better?"
"Yup. Peachy keen." She says. I laugh softly.
I look down, taking her hand in mine. I hold it up to her face. "What's with the gloves?"
"...New fashion style."
"Oh really?"
"Yup." She looks away. Spotting MJ and Ned in the distance, she waves them over, pulling her hand from my grasp.
MJ jogs up and grabs (Y/n)'s hand tightly before running off. "Later, losers!"
She doesn't notice (Y/n) wince at the contact. But I do.
I jog after them with Ned behind me. I wrap my arm around (Y/n)'s waist, pulling her out of MJ's grasp. Both MJ and Ned look at me suggestively, eyebrows raised at my sudden burst of confidence. Not that it's anything like that.
I shrug innocently. "I need to borrow (Y/n) for a second. We'll catch up with you guys later."
I pull (Y/n) away from the crowd and towards my locker. I had to pick up my books anyway. "What's with the gloves?" I ask again, casually.
I turn around to see that she's watching me guardedly, as if trying to figure out what I'm thinking. She raises an eyebrow. "Like I said: new fashion style."
"Yeah, that's what you said," I say pulling out my books and shutting my locker. "Now what's the real reason?"
She bites her lip and looks down. "Can't I just wear them because I want to?"
"You could, but that isn't why you're wearing them." I lean my head down to her level. "I know you, (Y/n). I know when you're lying."
She sighs and looks away again. I softly grab her hand. I see a hesitant look on her face and she starts to pull away, but I finish pulling off her glove.
I gasp. "(Y/n)...what happened?" I gaze down at her bruised and bloody knuckles.
"It's no big deal," she says. "Nothing bad happened, I was just angry and needed to hit something."
I softly run a finger over her knuckles, watching her expression to make sure that I'm not hurting her. "Why didn't you tell me? Why try to hide it?"
"I...I didn't want to make anyone worry." She stares at her shoes. "I'm sorry."
I raise her hand up to my face and softly kiss her knuckles. "Don't apologize."
I look back up at her to find her staring at me, a bit of blush forming.
"(Y/n)...are you sure everything is alright? You haven't been yourself lately."
"I'm fine. I'm just...tired."
I sigh. "Don't use the tired excuse, (Y/n). I know that excuse. I've used it. Multiple times. What's really going on?"
"...I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"I can't tell you that either. I'm sorry, Peter."
I smile softly at her. "Don't apologize. You don't have to tell me everything. But I'm always here, if you need me. As a friend to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, a hug, whatever you need. I'll be there."
She pauses for a moment, before wrapping me in a hug, tightly holding me, as if I'd fly away. "How'd I get lucky enough to find someone like you?" She mumbles.
I wrap my arms around her and hug her back. "I'm the lucky one."
"I love you."
My heart skips a beat and I lose my breath.
Did she just say she loves me?
I look at her the best I can without breaking the hug.
Yeah, but that was like, platonic, right?
Friends tell each other that they love each other all the time. It's a normal thing.
She's told me that she loves me as a friend before too. Completely platonic.
"I love you too," I whisper back.
Eventually she pulls away from the hug, looking up at me, smiling.
I smile back, hoping she can't tell that my heartbeat is picking up rapidly.
"You should have dinner with May and I tonight." I blurt out.
"What?"
"Have dinner with us. Ned is already coming. We have plenty of food, and I'm sure that May would love to see you."
She smiles again. "Well, I would love that, but I don't think my dad would let me."
"Why not? It's not like you've never been there before."
"I know, it's just..." She shrugs. "I'll do my best to convince him, but don't get your hopes up."
"I'll try not to, but I think I'll always be hopeful around you." I say without thinking.
She looks over at me, eyebrow raised, and I start to regret opening my stupid mouth.
She probably thinks that I'm so weird and--
She starts to smile. "You are literally the definition of a cinnamon roll. You know when people call people cinnamon rolls? That's you. You are literally the sweetest person I've met, you dork."
I laugh and she laughs with me, looking genuinely happy and at ease for the first time in a while.
"Now give me my glove so we can head back to Ned and MJ before she starts to come up with wild accusations as to what we're doing and why we're taking so long."
My face turns red and I groan, "oh lord..."
"Yep, you better brace yourself. Let's go."