"EMILY?" EXCLAIMED PETER, STARING AT ME from just inside his house, a mixture of confusion and doubt shining in his eyes. "I - I didn't think you'd be here so soon?"

"Well, it's two, isn't it? Unless I'm off, but I'm pretty sure you said two, right?"

Gesturing me in with a small shrug, he nodded, but the edge in his eyes didn't fade away - if anything, it just got worse, making his look of a deer caught in the headlights only appear to be more petrified. "Yeah, yes, it's two. Sorry, I just got...carried away."

I just kept my mouth shut, not eager to make a dumb remark and ruin our fragile friendship, observing the living room and realising that his stuffy aunt wasn't in there - she wasn't anywhere in the apartment, with the smell of cheap perfume and rotting grief seemingly dissipated into thin air. "Your aunt...?"

"She's not here," he forced out, hands fidgeting in his pockets. "She, um, had to run some errands. But she wanted to ask if you would, um, stay for dinner?"

"Sure, yeah, I can do that."

While my voice was calm, inside, I was in a strong relief of his offer- I didn't want to return to Inga and her lair, not after recent events and her undeniable anger. Something had upset her, and of course, she took that out of me, sending blow after blow my body was on fire, crumbling within like an ancient temple. It wasn't best for anyone to be around her, not in a mood like that, and at least with new plans I could wait longer, see if she calmed down in my absence. An unlikely wish, but one I was willing to make.

I followed the boy back to his room, a now-familiar path, and set my bag down carefully as I watched him carefully. "Are you alright, Peter? You seem a little...upset."

He didn't look at me, instead focusing his attention on pulling out any bits and pieces we had stored away from the previous project. Still, though he kept it together, it was obvious in the way his frown grew and how his hands shook ever-so-slightly that he wasn't truly okay. "I'm okay, really I am."

"I've heard that enough times to know when someone's lying to me or telling the truth," I mumbled, eyes not straying from the boy's face, "and you're not a great liar, Peter. There's obviously something bothering you."

"I'm fine."

People were not my forte - the Red Room had made sure of that - and his reluctance to speak with me made it difficult to actually carry on and get close to the boy, manipulate him for the information Inga - and then I - needed. It was obvious that something was troubling him, and that he needed to speak about it else it would just get worse, but I had no clue who or what exactly that was. If only I had made the decision to watch him instead of staying with Inga, then maybe things could have been different, but things couldn't change from a naive wish; here I was, and there he was, and the wall of stone and bitter sadness stood between it all.

I sighed, brushing a loose hair out of my face, and scooted just a little bit to the side so that I was closer to the boy, who immediately tensed at the motion. I wasn't sure really what I was doing, but I tried to smile and look supportive somehow - however one did that. "Look, Peter, I know we're not...close, but I know that something's wrong and I want to help somehow. Isn't that what friends are supposed to do?"

"Are we friends?"

His words caused a falter, confusing me for a second. "Well, if not, I'd like to be, I guess."

It was deathly silent for a few, agonizingly long moments, as he debated my words and I mentally urged him to take the bait and start opening up. I wasn't sure what was making the boy hesitate; by this point, I had imagined we'd be having a long heart-to-heart moment, where he'd spill all of his secrets and I could finally begin to work on something. However, he was much more closed off than I had anticipated, a frustrating quality that seemed impossible to look over.

Eager to interrupt the heavy, unpleasant tension that hung like drapes on our shoulders, I stood up and headed over, picking up a small figure - one I recognised to be from the movie series he adored to no end. "This - who is this, Peter?"

In an instant the boy was up and grabbing the figurine from my hand, burying it in a nearby sweater and shrugging like nothing had happened. "It's nothing, Ned must have left it here-"

"-jeez, I'm not here to judge you, it was just a question." My voice was light, lilting, teasing but in a way that wasn't meant to dig deep, just meant to poke some fun at such a serious time. "I don't know much about the series, is all. Trust me, if I was trying to be mean, you'd be wailing on the ground."

The boy relaxed a little, even smiled at a bit at my joke - which, funnily enough, wasn't even really a joke - and waved a hand lazily around at his room. "It's hard to explain. Not something I can easily talk about, I...guess."

"Oh?" He was on the brink of sharing, but I could tell his thoughts were stopping his words and he was debating the idea of telling the truth. "You don't have to-"

"-it's okay," he mumbled, brushing off my hasty apology. "It's just stress I guess. Lots of stuff happening around that seems to always take up...everything."

It wasn't hard to understand what he was referring to, even if he didn't know I knew; he was tired and as a fifteen-year-old superhero battling everything around him, that was understandable. Of course, it wasn't really like he could just tell me that he wore a red and blue onesie and walked old women across the street all day, but I understood, in a twisted way, what he was going through.

My hands itched in my pocket, eager to whip out the web cartridge he had dropped and told him that I knew, but it stayed hidden. It wasn't the time to do that; right now, I needed to make sure the boy knew that I was his friend and that even though I 'had no idea' of anything, I was there to support him. Not turn this into an interrogation and a war zone.

So, instead, I gestured to the project and his laptop and tried to pretend like I wasn't dying of a multitude of questions, "let's work on this, I guess - I mean, that's why I'm here, right?"

"Right - um, not just cause that's the only reason you're here, of course, just that we should work on the project, of course."

I smiled, "it's okay, Peter. You really don't need to explain yourself."

He nodded, and we sat back down, me cross-legged and him with his laptop pressed against his legs, serving as a way for him to - hopefully - calm down. I was dying to ask more questions, but I wasn't sure where to start or if it was even the right time. It was easier for him to sit and focus, and though it wasn't at all what I wanted to do, that wasn't the point of this.

After a few long minutes, I flopped backwards and groaned, pretending to be bored out of my mind - which wasn't really that hard to fake, considering how much I hated watching him work in silence. "Okay, that's enough work now."

The boy chuckled a bit, loosening up at my antics and watching closely even as his hands still flew across his laptop. "We've only done a little bit though."

"Yes, but that's enough for me," I groaned, half-heartedly tossing a pillow at the boy to get his attention once more. "Can't we do something else? We're practically done the work anyway!"

"I guess? I-"

"-Great," I smiled, shooting up from my fallen position. "Then let's do something."

The boy watched me warily, but nervous excitement radiated through his eyes and the pain he clutched so close to his chest before wasn't quite so apparent. "What are you planning, exactly?"

"Well, I figured, since you and Ned talk about it so much, I should know something about Star Wars. Do you have the movie?"

"I thought you said you watched it."

I blinked and kept up my smile, realising my mistake as the words tumbled from my broken lips. "I mean...okay, you're right, so I haven't watched it. But I can now? With the expert of it all?"

He hesitated, debating his decision, but nodded and opened his laptop, tapping in the information almost reluctantly. "Sure, I guess we can, yeah, I mean, sure that's fine, but...no, that's fine, yeah."

"Okay." The boy was growing nervous, though I wasn't entirely sure why. It was a movie, an activity that wasn't really that significant or special; it was almost like we were before, working, just sitting still and staring at a screen for a couple hours and watching pictures race by. It wasn't really anything that big, yet he was acting like it was a huge deal, like I had just professed non-existent love to the boy. "Just to warn you, though, I'm probably going to have a lot of questions throughout, okay?"

Peter didn't glance my way, tensing as I drew closer once more. "Right, well, I guess I can answer them, yeah. Of course."

"You are the expert in this situation."

...

I glanced back and smiled at Peter as we headed towards the exit, slowing to slip on my boots and grab the jacket hanging by the door. "Please, thank your aunt again for me for letting me stay for dinner, will you? It was delicious, and such a nice gesture."

In reality, the rest of the evening had been unbelievably awkward; while I had done my best to loosen Peter up, making jokes and trying to get closer to the boy, he had remained uncomfortably tense throughout the movie, forcing laughter like he was about to vomit or pass out - perhaps both, at the sight of his face. I thought that the escape to dinner would have lightened spirits, but I had been wrong; it was a revolting mixture of bad meatloaf, small talk with his aunt, and Peter always interrupting any comment she made about the 'two of us' - like that was even a thing. In the end, I was grateful for the escape, for I was slowly regretting my decision to take the mission more and more as the hours dragged on.

"Yeah, sure, of course," he mumbled, running a hand through messy hair as he waited by the door. "And, um, sorry about her. She was just curious, is all."

Curious my ass; the woman was practically breathing down my neck with her friendly questions and 'hilarious' jokes about Peter and I having a 'thing'. I was almost debating putting her out of action like Ned so I could do my work - and if it wouldn't be so difficult or idiotic on my part, I would. "It's fine, really. She's a really nice woman."

"Yeah, she is." Peter's voice grew quieter, wistful almost, and it wasn't hard to tell his thoughts were drawing further away and to a deeper moment then the dinner. "She likes you."

"Me?"

"Um, yeah, I mean, as in-"

I silenced him with a small pat on the shoulder as I rose once more to his height, "I'm glad she likes me, then. I was a little worried, but, I'm glad."

"Right. Well, thank you for, um, yeah."

"For...yeah? You have to be more specific, Peter."

The boy was even more flustered than ever before, face turning a faint shade of pink that almost complimented the pale white as he searched for the right words to say. "Well, um, I just meant - thanks for...coming? I mean, shit - wait, I mean-"

A smile flickered on my lips, one that was almost real. The boy was nervous and I had done that to him; somehow, Emily Newman made Peter Parker nervous, and that was a quiet victory Freya Knight would have to celebrate elsewhere. "Well, thank you for showing me Star Wars. Now maybe I'll know a bit more about that, right? I'll have to watch the rest sometime."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Just don't watch the prequels; they're not great, trust me."

I nodded and stepped out of the door, leaving a lingering touch on his arm as I did so. "Thanks for the advice. Have a good night."

Minutes later and I was still standing not a couple feet away from the now closed door, heart aching for a strange reason I wasn't sure of. He was, though he had many obvious flaws and problems, a good boy, one pure and warm-hearted despite everything that had happened to him. He was normal, growing flustered and nervous at the mere contact I made with him, unsure of his words and doubting himself even when it wasn't necessary. He cared, though he was unwilling to admit it, and thought so little of himself even when he was one of the best people I had ever met.

The smile fell from my face, replaced with a sad frown as I turned away from the boy and down the hall, ready to head back to my own personal hell. This time, making a mental note to avoid the alleyways.

Ay, new chapter - and, surprisingly, sort of fluffy? Well, I mean, just as 'fluffy' as this book gets because, a, I'm horrible at letting any of my characters be happy and b, I just can't picture Freya as a super fluffy person. However, here's a little bit of a lighter chapter after the extremely dark chapter that was 22 - sorry about that, by the way, much more to come - and a little bit more of progression between Spyderman! Credit for that goes to @Isenfyre who came up with that genius name in a comment and now, it's the ship name and I shall go down with the #Spyderman ship...no one can stop me haha. 

Okay, this is legit just rambles. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading!