A/N:I highly recommend listening to the song as you read!

     She landed softly on the floor, not a sound came from the wood beneath her. She raised her arms, running her hands along her sides as she threw her head back to exaggerate the feeling of the music. Her every move came with the music, not one step out of sync, not one twirl too long, her precision was uncanny. 

"So this is how it feels, to fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you."

  The music moved her body, the dance being only an expression of herself and the symphony which carried her petite frame across the room. Silent tears fell from her eyes as the music continued, but she kept her face emotionless and plain. The purest form of movement and art coursed through her, each step leaving a trail of sorrow and beauty.

    Her grace became one with her pain, and nothing could break the link she had with the music now. Her fingers trembled as she moved, her hands, recklessly wandering, almost as if he were there to hold. She broke into a spin as the music climaxed, faster and faster and faster, until finally she had to stop, pulling herself together, she finished the song, the end of the music sending a coldness through her veins. She then crumpled into a ball on the floor, and her eyes began to sting again, but the tears never fell, she kept them contained and stood to grab her things from the empty studio.

   As she turned to leave the studio, she found him staring at her, his beautiful dark eyes laced with hers as she stopped, examining his face, his nose, his cheek bones, the dimple by his left eye which was really just a conveniently placed scar, and then his lips, slightly parted and beautifully pink. "That was," He paused to breathe heavily, only then did she notice that he was clutching a dark red spot on the side of his shirt, "Haunting." Was all he could manage out, causing her mind to spiral as to what he quite meant by that. A deep and charred expression crossed her face as she looked questionably at his quite obviously bleeding side. He pinched his eyebrows together in pain and nodded down to the wound, "I couldn't collect what he wanted me to," he seethed a stiff breath and leaned his weight into the door frame, to keep himself upright, "so he 'punished' me. He says next time he won't be so merciful." Ryder closed his eyes, as if it killed him to keep them open. She stepped forward, breathing slowly as she gently lifted the side of his shirt, to find a sizable gash torn into his flesh. She ran her fingers along the side of it and shook her head disapprovingly. "Come." Is all she said, as she left the studio. He followed her as quickly as he could, trying to keep up with her fast pace which was clearly on purpose, to punish him.

     They were soon outside, in the cool spring air. She smiled and took a deep breath, taking in the light the drizzle that had begun. Most people had rushed to make it inside, but she would have stayed out there, under the dark clouds, forever, if given the chance. She put her arm out and waved for a taxi, ushering him into it as soon as it pulled up. She made sure to cover his wounded side with her coat, as not to draw any questions from the driver. Ryder said her address, knowing she wouldn't speak. The woman in the drivers seat nodded and pulled into gear, offering for the radio, which Ryder gladly accepted, as to avoid the loud silence which encased them. As soon as the song came on, she closed her eyes and nodded to the soft melody. He didn't fail to take notice in the anxious tremble of her fingers, or how she reached up to play with her necklace, or anything about her really.

*＊✿❀ ❀✿＊*

     The ride was long and painfully silent except for the constant music and occasional voice of the radio man in the background. Finally the taxi pulled into a small parking space in front of the tall apartment building. She silently thanked the driver who had been obnoxiously chewing gum and clumsily hopped out of the cab. Ryder followed quickly after tipping her and grunting a 'thank you'. 

      They entered through the doors, nodding at the kind bellman and treading towards the stairwell. "There's an elevator." Ryder said, motioning towards the metal doors. He knew the effort was pointless due to her utter refusal to step into the contraption, but he tried nonetheless.  Her only response was a sharp look and pinched brows. He threw his head back and grudgingly followed her up the eight flights of stairs.

      Once finally at her door, him out of breath and her still perfectly fine, she unlocked the door and turned on the light, revealing a million plants all around the flat. She had no real furniture, only hammocks, bean bags and oddly placed ottomans, along with string lights, curtains and large fuzzy rugs. Her apartment was tacky in a fissionable way and always had a sense of comfort. "Hi Peter Parker." Ryder said, petting the handsome Maine Coon which sat perched on a soft hammock that hung between a wall and a tether ball pole which had an embroidered curtain draped over it. The walls of the apartment were covered, floor to ceiling with posters, tapestries and cork boards which were smothered in pictures and book clippings. It was a small one room apartment, equipped with a simple kitchen which she had never used, and an even smaller bathroom. Nearly hundreds of books were stacked all around the room, placed with what was definitely hundreds of pillows and cat toys.

      The cat which was named after her favorite super hero and longest famous crush, rubbed up against his leg and purred. Ryder found this surprising, due to the fact that Peter Parker was almost a dog, he went to the bathroom outside, chewed on bones, hated other cats, and only ate people food. 

Peter Parker:

The apartment

       Unknown by Ryder, she had quietly slipped into the bathroom to get cleaning supplies and returned just as quietly, placing them next to where he sat on the floor. He only looked at her as she turned on the TV and put on some horrible show that he knew she loved. That he also knew, she knew just how bad it was. 

   She nimbly sat in front of him and carefully lifted his shirt where he was injured, causing him to flinch, but he only kept his eyes on her, taking the shirt by the hem so she could use both of her hands. She brushed her fingers over the bleeding wound, her eyebrows rising at the yellowish bruise forming around it. 

      "Belle." Her name slid out of his mouth, the name he felt he had been avoiding, the name he knew would have to come. A/N: That's why I kept saying she and her instead of her name. She shook her head and stood up, walking to the kitchen, still silent. Ryder furrowed his brows in confusion, but kept the side of his shirt above the wound. Belle took two beers from the fridge and a bottle opener from the drawer, then swiftly glided back to her spot. She popped the lid off of the first bottle and took a good swig, she then proceeded to laugh at something on the show and slide the other bottle to her side. Ryder looked at the bottle inquisitively and cocked his head to the side. "What? You thought that was for you? Ha!" The first sentence he'd heard from her in months and it was taunting and rude. He deserved it, but he didn't expect it. 

   She took a bowl from a far corner, not standing to get it, but leaning over her stretched out legs. As she did so, her shirt came up, allowing Ryder to see all of the curves and crevasses of her back, each gentle muscle and bone. He cleared his throat and his eyes took interest in the ceiling until she was back to sitting, her legs crossed inwardly. 

     Belle took the second bottle and the opener and popped off the cap, then proceeded to pour half of the bear into the bowl and call, "Peter Parker, dinner." The large cat softly padded over and loafed beside her to drink from the bowl. She took a moment to smile softly and pet him, scratching at his ear as he lapped up the alcohol. Ryder couldn't help but smile at her, her gentleness, her soft touch, and the way she could be so messy and real, there was no one quite like her. 

    "Now let's get that fixed. Hm?" She said, gesturing at the wound as she took another sip and then grabbed the peroxide. She poured some onto a cotton swab and then slowly pressed it into his side. All of the annoyance and hostility had drained from her eyes, and what was left was worry and sheer concentration. 

    Ryder flinched at the sting and closed his eyes, his fingers digging into the soft carpet below him.  Soon the sting was gone and all that was left was the gentle caress of her thumb against his ribs. "Don't open your eyes." Was all she said, before the coldness of a cloth came, and then soon after, the sharp sting of cold metal pierced his skin, causing him to whimper like a child. The sting came many times, followed by a weird pulling sensation at the tear in the skin, but soon after there was the tying of thread and once again, soft fingers against his now closed up side.

    When he opened his eyes, he found a row of perfect stitches, reminding him of the first time he had come to her like this, she had had much practice since then, and her actions were precise and unwavering. She then lifted his shirt further and took out the old bandage, wrapping it firmly around him, several limes until it was firm and tight against his skin. 

     "Thank you. I know I shouldn't come to you-" He started, "But you do." She finished. 

   "Did I scare you? I hope I didn't scare you." 

  She looked into his eyes, "But you did." 

   He stared back at her, pain welling in his heart. "I never mean for this to happen."

    She raised an eyebrow, "But it always does." She moved to get up but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, where she proceeded to fall into his embrace, clutching him trembling. Her calmness from seconds before had disappeared quickly and was replaced with shudders of fear and anger. "Don't you dare let that happen ever again! I told you to stay away from them." She exclaimed, pulling back and hitting his chest. Then her eyes softened, "But if it does, don't you dare go to anyone else." She finished. 

   He looked at her with a soft gaze, "I wouldn't dream of it."

   She nodded and rubbed her fingers up and down her legs. "You should get home to Maria, she's probably worried sick." Belle said, her voice quiet and emotionless, he knew she never liked speaking of Maria. 

  "Probably." He said, his mind wandering back to when she leaned over him, each detail of her olive skin, every valley and mole. His eyes darted over her petite frame, causing her to cover her stomach in anxiety and protection. 

   "I'll go." He said, standing from his place on the floor where he had moments ago held her in his arms. 

   She nodded and took another drink of her beer. She stood swiftly and followed him to the door, "I would say tell her hello for me, but... well, you know." She said. Some things were too deep to stitch and too painful to bring up. Her and Maria would never be fixed. 

   "Thank you really, I-" He paused, unsure of what to say in this incredibly tense moment. 

   "I know." She said, linking her finger with his and then quickly letting go, leaving his hand cold. "Good night Ryder." Her voice was soft but walled off.

    "Good night Belle." He nodded sadly. 

    He opened the door, but just before he left he turned around to meet her eyes, "That dance earlier, it was truly haunting, it was beautiful. Don't waste it." He smiled a broken smile and then left. 

  Belle closed the door and stood there, staring at the wood that desperately needed a paint job. She turned around and slumped against it, sliding to the floor and took another long swig of beer. Tears began to violate her eyes, projecting themselves on to her cheeks. Peter Parker came and licked them off.

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