Y/N 🍪

_

PETER'S HIDING SOMETHING, and I'm going to figure it out.

After he picked me up at the Tower, we found ourselves on a train into the center of New York. Rush hour was unkind; our bodies practically pressed against the doorway inside the crowded car, and eyes constantly checking to see if someone was trying to pick-pocket me. It was hard to stay in control of my senses when there were so....many.

Peter was in front of me, one hand on the wall behind me for balance, and the other on my shoulder to keep me from crashing into someone else. It had already happened a few stops back. Embarrassing. Being so close to him felt alarming—and sure, it wasn't anything new—but with the information I now possessed, I felt like I was huddled up with a stranger.

Tony's kind-of-like Peter's dad, Scott had said.

I was there when they first met each other. At least, that's when I thought they met each other. Peter introduced himself like I did, and Mr. Stark acted like he didn't know him. Not to mention, Peter had never left my side at the tower.

So how did he and Tony get so close?

I'm a scientist, not a psychic—but I know when someone's lying to me.

"Hey, you okay?" Peter's voice snapped me out of my trance, and I noticed he was staring down at me with a strange intensity.

I glanced out the window. "Yeah."

"You were zoning out for a second."

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

Who you really are, Parker. "Nothing."

In my hand were the flowers he'd bought me—a bouquet of pink lilies that smelled as nice as they looked—but they didn't settle my uneasiness. In fact, they made it worse.

The train came to a screeching stop, and the sea of people began stumbling over inside the train car. I almost rammed into the wall behind me, but Peter wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me into his chest.

"Nice reflexes," I said pointedly.

He laughed, and I felt it echo in his chest. He had a faint scent of...polyurethane? I wrinkled my nose in denial. Polyurethane was a chemical that, when burned, gave off a slightly bitter smell. I'd smelled it somewhere before. Polyurethane was commonly found in spandex. Why would Peter be wearing spandex?

These thoughts plagued my mind, even as we pulled into our stop at 42 St-Bryant Park Station. Grabbing my hand, Peter led me off the train and up the stairs.

New York City was bustling with strangers, phones up in arms, and blinding lights plastered onto buildings. Times Square was at peak urbanization. It was digital, distracting, and filled with people. But even with the deafening chatter coming from the crowd, I could only focus on the boy in front of me.

He still hadn't let go of my hand, but his grip was tight. I could feel my joints shifting underneath my skin.

"Peter!" I yelled above the crowd.

He turned to look at me, but kept moving through the crowd. "Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

"Everywhere!"

Strange, really, how he was able to run backwards through a sea of people, but manage to swerve out of the way every time. It was almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head. As if he could sense every slight movement.

We traveled into the very center of the square, where you could turn your head and never miss the towering screens. They surrounded us, flashing their products and musicals, and making the world seem so, very, New York City.

"Here," Peter said, letting go of my hand.

He took off his backpack, swinging it in front of him as he dug through it. I noticed he was careful to turn away, as if he was trying to hide what was inside his bag. Zipping it closed quickly, he turned around and placed something around my neck.

"We wanted to be tourists, so I brought my camera," he said with a wide smile. "I usually use it to make videos to show May, but I think it'd be cool to make our own."

He looked so excited, and it made my chest feel like it was going to explode. I didn't trust him—not after seeing that photo—but I couldn't help but feel drawn to his familiar demeanor. I like him, I really do. And when he pulls cute crap like this, I want to pretend I never doubted him for a second.

But...I had to know what he was hiding from me. I'd be a fool to be ignorant about it. I'd go along with the rest of the date, but I had to keep one eye open.

Looking down at the camera around my neck, I let myself relax a little. "That's a great idea, Peter."

"Wait, let me take your flowers."

He shoved the lilies into his backpack, plastic wrapping crinkling against the fabric sides. "They'll be safe in there, trust me."

Trust you? That's richer than Tony Stark—who you apparently know. Alright, alright, alright, Agreste, just relax again. Be smart about this, not mean.

Grabbing the camera, I turned it on and hit record:

It was brilliant how New York City felt so different through a high-schooler's lens. The lights seemed brighter, more colourful, and almost like a memory before we finished making them. Peter made me take pictures with random characters we saw in the square—Katniss Everdeen, a zombie santa claus—and climbed onto cement blocks to wave at me from below.

The more time we spent together, the easier it was for me to forget why I was frustrated with him.

"Two slices of cheese," Peter asked a street vendor, digging his wallet out of his pocket.

After we grabbed the food, he wanted to take me all the way down to Brooklyn to see the bridge. I wasn't fond of getting on another train, but just to be with him was enticing enough. Waving a thank you to the vendor, the boy handed me a greasy pizza bag and slid his wallet back into his pocket.

I took a picture of the two of us taking a bite of our slices.

"That is better than anything I've ever tasted," he mumbled into his cheese. "I want to be buried with this pizza."

"How nutritious."

"My soul needs a snack on my way to the afterlife."

I laughed. "Honestly, I'd prefer hot chocolate. Gotta' stay warm."

"Not where you're going."

"Hey."

"Kidding, kidding, I'm kidding," he chuckled. "What's your go-to topping on cocoa?"

"Whipped cream with peppermint flakes."

"I'm allergic to peppermint."

"What?" I gasped. "I've never heard of anyone who's allergic to peppermint."

"It's, uh—pretty common."

Peter rambled off an explanation as we made our way to the train, and I found myself listening to him with a fierce intensity. I thought I'd had the boy down like a picture-book, but there was a lot I didn't know about him. I wanted to know everything.

I wanted to know why I felt so drawn to him, even though we were destined for other soulmates. Guiltily, I wished he could have been mine. Everything about him was better than that web-slinging, arrogant, friend-zoning superhero I was tied to.

Once we were settled in one of the cars, I let myself relax again. Instinctively, Peter put his arm around me, steadying us as the train began to move. His backpack fell to the floor, clumping around our feet.

"What do tourists do in New York?" I asked. "Other than seeing the landmarks."

Peter hummed as he thought. "Reenact Rom-Coms."

"Which ones?"

"You've Got Mail. Or the ending of Sleepless in Seattle."

"I didn't know that was your kind of movie genre."

"There's still a lot we have to learn about each other," he smiled, ruffling a hand through my hair. "Good thing we've got enough time."

I refrained from making a snide comment. In my mind, it was clear enough there was an air of mystery between us, and there was no point letting my negativity consume me further.

Once we reached the Chambers St Station, we began to follow the crowd onto the platform. But as soon as the doors started to close, I realized we'd forgotten to pick his backpack up off the floor. Turning quickly, I ran back into the car and snatched it into my hand.

"[y/n], what are you—" Peter began to say.

But the doors had closed.

We stood on either side of the small window, staring at each other in shock. Before he could say anything, the train began to pull out of the station, and he started to run to catch up.

"Get off," he yelled, voice muffled. "Next stop!"

I nodded, holding up my hand.

"I'll meet you there!"

Narrowly dodging a metal pole, Peter lost his footing, falling behind. Soon I had disappeared into the dark tunnels of the New York Subway System.

Great.

The train car was mostly empty now, so I slumped into the nearest seat, putting his backpack in my lap. The flowers crinkled inside, shuffling against whatever other stuff he had in there.

Just my luck to get separated from him. The only benefit to this was that I knew my way around Manhattan, and wasn't too concerned about finding him again. I also could call him, I suppose.

Pulling out my phone, I dialed his contact.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

His backpack began to buzz, a loud ringtone ringing out into the air. A few passengers turned to look at me in annoyance, and I sheepishly tried to stop bothering them. Zipping open the bag, I began to dig around for Peter's cellphone.

Amidst the flowers, it was hard to see anything inside. I blindly reached my hand in, pulling out the first thing I could get my hands on.

All I saw was a flash of red and the touch spandex, before a panic spread through my entire body. I shoved it immediately back in.

Oh my God.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

In a pointless effort to convince myself I had been seeing things, I slowly peeked inside the backpack to see if it was still there.

It was.

Tangled in with the flowers, notebooks, and various belongings, a red mask was staring back up at me. A web-like design had been pressed into the material, leading towards two white eyes in the center.

I'd seen this mask before.

As the train pulled into the next station, I struggled to gather my bearings. I felt like my mind was on fire. I could barely zip the backpack up properly, stumbling onto the platform with my eyes searching widely.

He knows Tony Stark, my head screamed. That's why.

I wanted to throw up. Somehow, the situation felt strangely like getting whiplash. This entire time he'd known—Peter had known—that he was my soulmate, and yet he decided it was better to lie to me than tell me the truth.

It didn't make sense.

It felt like betrayal, even though I wasn't sure if it was. All I knew was that it made me feel like a fool. Everyone had known. Peter, Tony Stark, the Avengers...I wouldn't even be surprised if Luka had known the entire time too. Somehow, my sense of reality was bending out of proportion in ways I couldn't understand.

I remembered the article. The Curious Case of the Soulmate-Change. It all made sense.

What he did didn't.

As I made my way out of the subway, I felt grateful to see the sky. I needed to breathe. I needed to remember that even though everything felt in disarray, the rest of Manhattan was still here.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring into the darkening atmosphere, when I heard footsteps running towards me. My heart sank when I heard his voice.

"[y/n]!" Peter Parker yelled, waving his hands at me. "Over here!"

He had a smile on his face.

I could only stare at him nimble, waiting for him to come to a stop. His eyes glanced at the backpack in my hand, and I noticed him squint to see if the zipper was closed. So he was hiding it. A part of me wanted to believe I was still going insane, but that just confirmed it.

"I'm going to puke," he laughed, taking it out of my hands. "I ran so far to get here."

I doubt it was hard for you.

"Are we going to the bridge?" I said, an awkward tone seeping into my voice.

He seemed to notice it. "Yeah. Do you still want to?"

I nodded.

I didn't know what else to do.

As we made our way to the Brooklyn Bridge, Peter began rambling about the things he encountered as he ran to find me. On any other day, I would have listened to him gladly. I would have found every word he said interesting.

Knowing what I know now, I can't bring myself to trust him. I was strung along some stupid game for a reason that I didn't know. There couldn't be a reason. At least not one that would make sense.

Who would do a thing like that?

I'd gotten so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice we had stopped beneath the bridge. We were by the river, leaning on a metal gate that stopped up from falling in.

"You sure you're okay?" Peter asked from beside me.

The night had started to darken the sky, but I could see the confusion on his face. I had to confront him. I just didn't know how.

Glancing back at the river, I noticed a boat traveling down the stream.

"You know," I said, exhaling the tension in my chest. "I thought it was insane that Mr. Stark funded my experiment. I don't think I could've gotten this far without his help."

Peter nodded. "I think you could've."

"Remember when we met him?"

"Yeah. You introduced yourself as me."

"What did you think of him?" I asked, my voice hardening. "You seemed so confident when we stepped off of that elevator. No offense, Parker, but confidence isn't really your thing."

It was like Peter could sense something wasn't right. He titled his head, looking at me with a sudden intensity. I could see him searching my eyes for an answer, but I refused to let anything show. I wanted the truth from him. I wanted to see if he'd admit it.

But before he could open his mouth, a loud noise shot through the air.

Doubling back from the gate, the two of us felt ourselves knocked backwards by the force of what seemed to be an explosion. Through the metal bars, my eyes landed on the ship I had seen passing by earlier.

It was on fire.

"Oh my God," I said, standing to my feet. "Oh my God."

People were screaming, waving their hands for help. I turned to Peter, unsure of what to say. He seemed to be stammering, mouth opening and closing like a fish. I watched his hand reach towards his backpack, but he stopped.

He turned to look at me.

I could practically hear his thoughts. But while he was fumbling around, wondering how he could disappear without my knowledge, I decided to take matters into my own hands. There was no time for cowardness when people were in danger.

Crossing my arms against my chest, I stared at him with only one question written on my mind:

"You gonna save them, Spider-Man?"