It's been a few months since the meeting as we've started to refer to it. We've become practically attached at the hip since then, and despite everyone knowing we've met our soulmate, we're still keeping the other a sort-of-secret from our families.

"Everyone's okay though, right? They all made it out safely?" I ask Peter after he finishes telling me the events of his decathlon trip to DC he used to chase down a criminal a few weeks ago. "Including yourself?"

"Yeah, but—" He tries to argue from his place resting on my lap, "—but it could have gone wrong. People could have gotten hurt or—"

"But they didn't." I reassure him as I gently run my fingers through his hair. "No one got hurt, and you still have a lead on where they're getting supplies. I call that a win in my book." He sighs and I continue to reassure him, "I mean, what you did was amazing, and I couldn't possibly be more proud of you. Because no matter what happens, you're always doing your best to help people. It's just one of the many reasons we're soulmates."

"How is it you always know how to make me feel better?" Peter asks with a small smile on his face as his gloved finger traces the pattern of my leggings.

"Because it's my job as your soulmate and girlfriend to always remind you how amazing you really are." I tell him as I admire his features. Perfect brown hair with the natural curls I love so much, brown eyes that seem to see right through me, his crooked nose from the times he told me he broke it, and the lips I find myself daydreaming of kissing. "Especially in times like this when you seem to forget."

Peter sits up on the bed a soft, bittersweet smile on his face. "So, I've been meaning to ask you this, and you can say 'no' if you don't actually want to come. It's—it's just I was wondering—that is would you like to—" His cheeks turn red as he stumbles over his words, which I let him navigate through instead of interrupting, "—you know what I'm just gonna say it. Y/N Delmar, would you go to homecoming with me?"

A blush coats my own cheeks. "Is Peter Parker really asking me to Homecoming?" I tease and take his hand in mine. "Because if he is, I will gladly accept."

"Really?!" He shouts before realizing it and lowering his voice. "I mean, really? You—you wanna come to homecoming with me?"

"Of course, I would! Why wouldn't I?" I smile at him and relish in the way his eyes are all lit up with joy, but there's a bit of apprehension lingering there. It breaks my heart to see the doubt he has that I could really care about him. My palm rests on his cheek as I try to find the words to ease his fears. "You know I don't care if people think you're a nerd or whatever. I like you for who you are—the smart, kind, caring Peter Parker that I get to call my soulmate."

He shakes his head with a dopey grin on his face, and I almost think he's going to kiss me by the way he leans in ever so slightly. "I-I should probably get going. I have a—um—big Spanish test in the morning." He whispers just a few inches away from me.

"O-okay." I whisper back still lost in the haziness that comes with us being so close. It takes me a moment to come back to my senses and pull back. "Don't forget to call me if you can't stop by?" He nods and slips on his mask. In a moment of bravery, I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, Peter."

"Good—goodnight, Y/N." He stutters before slipping out the window and sneaking off into the night. Meanwhile, I shut and lock the window after him before collapsing on my bed. My fingers brush against my lips as I imagine what it would be like to kiss Peter Parker and how cute he looks when he's nervous or confused or happy or talking about what happened on patrol. The mere thought of him sends my heart hammering in my chest and a feeling of joy to overwhelm me.

And that's when it hits me. I think I'm truly in love with Peter Parker.

...

I bite my lip as I pace my room and stare at my halfway finished painting. It's a flurry of colors, and the meaning of it is clear. Two figures stand facing each other with wide eyes full of the one emotion I can't stop ignoring anymore. Because when I look at the figures, I see Peter and myself. Eyes full of the love I feel for him and hope he returns.

It's been plaguing my mind ever since the night he asked me to homecoming. Things have been developing since then—mostly my feelings and Peter's investigation. He seems to think that they're also the people that destroyed my Dad's deli and that they're selling their weapons on the street. And the leads he's gotten only seem to drive him further and occupy every ounce of his free time.

I wipe my hands of paint and check my phone for the millionth time. Only to find nothing—complete radio silence since the vague message about busting a meeting between the criminals. Why? Because one thing I've learned Peter is determined, and especially since it seems no one else is going to do anything about it.

My finger hovers over the call button. Somehow, I'm convinced my fears will be eased only by the sound of his voice. There's a thousand ways this could go wrong, and I just want to know he's okay right now.

I think over it for a second because calling him in the middle of something could cause more trouble than help, but I'm still desperate for any form of assurance. Although, I don't actually need to think it over for long before I'm interrupted by my phone buzzing in my hand. Peter's picture flashes up on my screen.

The phone nearly drops from my hand as I scramble to answer it. "Oh my gosh, thank goodness. Peter? Are you okay?" There's only silence on the other end, and my heart threatens to shatter in my chest. "Peter? Are you there? Please, say something."

"Y/N?" His voice calls out, filled with heartbreak and pain that I've never heard from him before.

"Peter? Where are you, I'm coming over right now." I scramble for my shoes and tug on my jacket as I speak, already halfway out the door. "I promise you it will be okay. Just tell me where you are, and I'll be there."

"Home," is the only words he manages to say, but it's all I need. Lucky for me, Peter decided to introduce me to his Aunt May a week and a half ago. So I know exactly where to tell the cab driver to go.

I talk to Peter the whole way, even if he doesn't reply. I trust that even my simple reassurances are better than silence right now. Especially cause I have no idea what happened, and my heart is on the verge of breaking every time I hear him sniffle or cry.

The moment we pull up in front of his building, I toss the driver the money and rush up as quickly as I can until I'm banging on his front door. His neighbors probably think I'm some sort of maniac or something, but I couldn't care less. All I care about is making sure he's okay.

Aunt May appears in the doorway with a worried expression, but her expression softens when she notices me and my utterly disheveled look. "He's in his room, sweetie." Her voice is soft and gentle as she lets me inside. "I hope you can help him. He's not doing well right now."

I nod, halfway listening as I still have most of my focus on helping Peter. "What happened?"

"He didn't say much, just that he lost the Stark Internship."

It takes a second for it to click. The Stark Internship—Spiderman. He lost being Spiderman? It sends a million questions through my brain, but I push them aside as I thank May and run off to his room. I find him sitting on his bed, hair dripping wet as he stares at the floor. "Pete?" I question as I step inside.

His eyes are rimmed in red and skin all blotchy. "Y/N?" He asks tenderly, and I rush toward him without a second thought before wrapping him in my arms, dissolving into tears right alongside him. We hold onto each other, and I wait for him to tell me what happened himself. "I—I lost it, Y/N. Mr. Stark took my suit."

"Why would he take your suit?"

"Because I messed up. A lot of people almost got hurt today because I messed up." He hangs his head, as a fresh set of tears build in his eyes. "I'm not Spiderman anymore."

"Pete," I whisper with a sigh as I pull away to look in his eyes, "you don't need to have a fancy suit to be Spiderman."

"Yes, I do." He argues and tugs at the roots of his hair as he speaks. "It's just—I don't—Spiderman is all I've had, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do without that." He sighs.

"You be Peter Parker." I tell him decisively. "You know, you once asked me why I was an artist if I couldn't see color, and I'm finally gonna tell you the truth of why."

I take a deep breath as I sit on the bed next to him. "My whole life, people have tried to tell me what I can and can't be. Teachers would tell my parents to encourage me to focus on science, math, English, and anything without color. They claimed it would be a precaution in case it took awhile for it to change or I never met and connected with my soulmate. But, you and I both know I suck at math."

The comment earns a half-hearted chuckle from Peter, and I relish in the small accomplishment. My head rests on his shoulder as he softly speaks, "Yeah, you're really awful at Math."

"No need to bully me, Parker." I tease before continuing, "Anyway, I never understood why people tried to tell me to add or multiply instead of letting me draw, and me being the stubborn person I am, I ignored them and kept going. One time, my cousin was visiting, and he brought me this huge box of crayons.

"At first, I cried thinking it was some cruel joke like I constantly got from the kids at school, but then he told me why he brought them. You see, my cousin has synesthesia, which makes him hear colors. So, we sat down in our living room with his beat up stereo, crayons scattered across the floor, and music blaring while he showed me how colors connected to other things.

"He helped me find confidence in what I already was. I learned how to make beautiful art without having to have the colors. Because I already was an artist. I didn't need colors or people to confirm it. It's just who I am." I turn to Peter and place a hand on his cheek so he'll look at me, "Just like how you're Spiderman. No fancy suit or billionaire mentor required. It's who you are."

For a second, I'm convinced he gets it, that maybe—just maybe—I got through to him. He brushes my hand aside and shakes his head as he paces the floor and tugs at his hair. "No, I'm not. I need that suit to be Spiderman. I need it to be someone, to actually have something real."

I swear at that statement, everything shatters. I know he's hurt, but he seems so convinced of what he said, I can't image in him believing it to be anything less than truth. "You really think that?" My eyes water up more than before as I look at my broken soulmate.

My voice fills with a bitterness to hide the pain I'm feeling. "Peter Parker, you are everything without that suit. You are still the same guy who went out to help people, my soulmate, the genius who aces every quiz and test without studying. Your life still has so much in it. You have people who love you and would do anything for you; people who would run over here at a moment's notice just to make sure you're okay.

"But, I guess none of that matters, right? Since you're supposedly nothing without your precious Spiderman suit. It wouldn't matter that you have your Aunt May who would give the world for you. It wouldn't matter that I love you as Peter Parker. I mean, yeah, it's cool that you're Spiderman too, but it's not why I fell in love with you."

Peter gives me a look that I can't decipher. "You love me?"

"Yeah, I do," I stand up and back away from him, "but if you really belief half of what you said, you're not the Peter I fell in love with. Because the Peter Parker I fell in love with wouldn't have let this stop him."

"Wait, Y/N!" Peter calls as I walk out the door, but I brush him off. "Please, just—"

"Just what, Peter? You made it very clear how you feel, and I'm doing the same." I tell him with teary eyes. "Look, I think we both need some time right now. Call me when you're my Peter again, and if you don't think that will be anytime soon, feel free to find a new Homecoming date."

I swear the words cut me deeper than they ever could hurt him, but right now, I see no other solutions that don't end in my prolonged heartbreak, with me staying by him as he repeatedly breaks my heart. So for now, I just need a bit of distance until we both come back to our senses.

At least, that's what I tell myself as I leave Peter Parker in the middle of his apartment and return to a world dimmed by our combined somber moods.