Y/N’s POV
Shawarma. I completely forgot about Physics.
I mean, it can’t be much worse than what’s already gone down today, right?
Wrong.
None of my friends were in Physics. Except for one person, but I wouldn’t exactly classify him as a friend at the moment. In fact, he’s the reason I’m practically having a panic attack in the school hallway.
Yeah, I don’t think I need to tell you his name.
Harry and MJ have been awesome today. And honestly, I think Harry’s more upset about this whole thing than I am. I mean, my will to live is virtually gone, but I don’t understand why that affects him so much.
I shake my thoughts out of my head, rub my bloodshot eyes for the gazillionth time today, put my big-girl panties on, and walked into AP Physics pretending I was the queen MJ told me I was. I just realized what a sight I must’ve been. My hair hadn’t been brushed in three days so I’d just stuck it up in a messy bun and I was wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that Ethan had put in a bag for me. Those things would’ve been fine on their own, but paired with my face, I looked like I could fit right in with the Gorgon Sisters. I had no makeup on whatsoever, my skin was blotchy and dry, and my eyes looked like they’d been crying for days. Which, of course, they had.
All the same, I march into the lab with as much confidence as I could possibly muster and defiantly take my seat next to the one and only Peter Benjamin Parker. There were still two minutes before class started, and I know they’re gonna be the most awkward of my life.
“You look nice,” I hear Peter acknowledge, which I was not expecting. He’s still staring pointedly at the cover of his textbook, I don’t even think he looked at me when I walked in. As much as it hurts me to say, he’s the one person I actually mind seeing me like this.
Aside from the awkward and obvious, I thought we’d just sit in silence, ignoring each other for the rest of our lives. Not that I actually prefer this. It was a whole different kind of painful.
“Deciding to make lying a habit, I see,” I mumble back, hoping this would be the end of our “conversation”.
“I’m not a liar” I don’t think he meant for me to hear that, and honestly I didn’t have the energy to respond to it, either.
Four minutes later, Mr. Dell was still nowhere to be seen. Needless to say, the entire room full of nerds went absolutely berzerk, enjoying the lack of supervision like this was their last day to live.
The only people not joining in on the communal craziness are sitting at the same bench, and consisted of a whole, whopping two people. Two guesses who.
“You excited for the trip?” The last thing I want to do is make small talk with my ex-boyfriend, and yet, it is still better than sitting in awkward silence like we’d been doing for the past ten minutes.
“Yeah,” he finally looks up from his desk. I muster up enough courage to meet his eyes, and I instantly regret it.
His eyes are just as bloodshot, if not more so, than mine.
“What are you looking forward to most?”
“Not sure. There’s a lot on the agenda.”
“Yeah,” my voice drifts off as my thoughts become consumed with thoughts of where I’d been looking forward to going most: Paris. I’d always wanted to go there, a cliche that I will never actually admit to, but right now, the thought of City of Love just makes me wanna cry. Or hurl. Or both.
“What about you?”
“Oh,” there was a time when I wouldn’t have thought twice about telling Peter, but right now I trust Flash Thompson more than him. “I guess just getting away for a bit. I could use a vacation right about now.”
I’m not ashamed to admit to him that I’m still upset. Heck, I’m going to try to make him feel as guilty as possible. He was a total buttface.
“Me too, Su- Y/N,” I take in a sharp breath. I was not expecting him to use, or even almost use, my nickname. It caught me completely off guard.
And I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him again after that.
~Peter's POV~
I knew I should've skipped physics.
Okay, remember the plan: no eye contact, don't speak unless spoken to, leave immediately after the bell rings.
I can do this.
I open the door and take my seat at the otherwise empty bench. After taking out my textbook and laying it on the desk, I hear the classroom door open.
I take in a sharp breath as I discreetly acknowledge the beautiful girl walking into the room.
When I sense that she's not looking at me, I can't help but steal a quick glance at her. Ever since I saw her in the hallway with Harry, I haven't been able to get her out of my head.
And every time I think of her, I just see the image of her crying on the rooftop in her forget-me-not blue dress…
What did MJ say forget-me-nots were, like, in the language of the flowers?
Nevermind, I'll look that up later.
In an effort to block out my thoughts, I check the clock on my phone. Two minutes till class starts, I can make it.
I catch a glimpse of her reflection in my phone, and I immediately see how much pain she's in. I can't bear to see her like this…
Before I knew what I was saying, I feel my mouth form the words, "you look nice."
Her surprised look catches me off guard and I instantly regret saying anything.
Mayday! Mayday!
Abort mission!
Shawarma, why can't you just follow the plan!
"Deciding to make lying a habit, I see," she mutters under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
Ouch.
I know I royally screwed up, but that wasn't a lie.
"I'm not a liar," is my lousy excuse. I'm not even convincing myself at this point.
I only lied to protect you, Sunshine, but you'll never know that.
We sit in silence for what seems like ages. Gosh, I miss the days when we could just talk about the most random things for hours on end.
I miss her so bad…
"You excited for the trip?"
She's talking to me! Oh shoot, I need to say something. Crap, what'd she say again?
The trip! Right, the trip…
"Yeah," not knowing what else to do, I finally pull myself together and look her in the eyes.
Crap. Another bad move.
Her normally clear and beautiful Y/E/C (your eye color) eyes are red and bloodshot from tears. I then realize that my eyes aren't in much better shape.
"What are you looking forward to most?"
Just say something!
Anything!
"Uh," how eloquent. Shut up. "I'm not sure, there's a lot on the agenda."
Nice.
"Yeah," she agrees and her voice trails off.
Quick, do something! This conversation is about to die.
"What about you?"
An average and excessively normal response. Perfect.
"Oh," she hesitates before responding, "I guess just getting away for a bit. I could use a vacation right about now."
Okay, that was definitely a dig. And I 1000% deserved it.
"Yeah, me too, Su-" I stop myself before I can say her nickname, but it's too late. "Y/N." I finished out my thought, knowing that the damage was already done.
Here lies this conversation.
~Time Skip~
Y/N's POV
“Dad, I’m home!”
It felt weird to be casually using that word, but once I’d started, there was no going back. Just like there was no going back to Florida now. I feel like I am now a complete New Yorker, but that's not to say that I wouldn’t mind visiting Mom for a bit.
“N/N!” My dad comes barrelling down the hallway, pausing awkwardly in the middle of our small dining room. Like he didn’t know what to do next. So, I step forward and hug him. Tight.
“I love you, Daddy,” I mumble into his work shirt and he squeezes me into him.
“I love you too, Bug,” gosh, I haven’t heard that nickname since I was about 6 years old. “Do I need to get my gun?”
“What?”
“Harry told me everything. You know, I knew that boy was trouble. I knew he wasn’t good enough for you,” he breaks away from me, and I see he’s almost as mad as Harry about this whole thing. Almost.
“It’s okay, Dad. I’m done with boys for a long time.”
“Am I allowed to hold you to that?” He chuckles, but it isn’t one of his usual, hearty chuckles. It was forced.
“What’s wrong?” I ask hesitantly, bracing myself for who knows what.
“Don’t worry about it, Bug.”
“No, Dad, if something's wrong you can tell me,” I urge him, and he sits us both down on the couch. This was serious.
“I didn’t want to tell you this now, Y/N. I’m,” he pauses, finding the right words. “I’m not sure how you’re gonna take this.”
“Well, how much worse can things get?” As soon as I said it, my anxiety told me exactly how much worse.
Before he’d even said anything, I knew that things were about to get a lot worse.