PETER 🕷

_

I had to be hearing things.

Somehow, in the span of a minute—two minutes at most—a boat had exploded and my soulmate figured out I was Spider-Man.

I hadn't planned on her finding out. Especially not now. Preferably not ever, if I'll be honest. Scanning her face, I wondered how long she'd known. I wondered what gave it away. I wondered why I couldn't figure out how to speak; why my mouth was only gaping in shock.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to do your job?" She frowned. "Clearly your priorities always lied with being a superhero. What's stopping you now?"

I wasn't sure what to do.

Should I deny it? Give her a hug? Weep dramatically and hope she could forgive me? It never occurred to me that she would be this angry, and now I feel as if I'd done something awful.

Did I?

Oh God.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I blurted out, shaking my head.

She scoffed. "Now you're lying to me?"

"You think I'm Spider-Man?"

"Because you are."

"I'm not."

"Peter, don't start," she frowned, digging a finger into my chest. She began to push me backwards until my spine was pressed up against the metal railing. "I found your mask in your backpack, and Scott Lang told me about you and Mr. Stark."

I looked in her eyes, and I knew there was no chance of getting out of this. I knew every flicker of every emotion she had. I recognized the intensity of her pointed gaze—the only one she had when she was focused or angry.

I wanted to take her by the shoulders and promise I didn't mean any harm. I wanted her to know it wasn't my intention to hurt her.

But that anger...if I had no respect for myself, I would have fought it. But I only have respect for her, so I resigned.

"I couldn't tell you," I whispered under my breath. "It would put you in danger if you knew."

"That's bullcrap."

"It's not, I promise," I explained, taking her finger off my chest. "If people knew your soulmate was Spider-Man, you'd be a target of every criminal out to get me. And if people saw you with Peter Parker, everyone would know who I am."

She didn't even let it process in her mind.

"You should have told me," she said. "Because then we would find a solution."

"This was a solution."

"It was a lie!" She spat out. "You humiliated me. You made this whole thing feel like an elaborate prank,and you broke my heart when you rejected me that day."

I remembered that night on the roof, when I told her we should remain friends. In my mind, I was thinking like Spider-Man would. The suit gave me both clarity and blindness—and it felt like I was someone else. It made me feel like I was too good to risk my safety for hers.

But that was never true.

I'd risk anything for her.

"We can find a solution now," I nodded, fingers grazing against her arm. "Now that you know, we can work to figure this—"

"You think I care about this?" She pointed between us.

"You don't?"

"No, Peter. I don't." She scoffed, shaking her head. "Because now I realize that the feelings I had for "Peter Parker" were just the result of feeling rejected. You were a desperate attempt at getting a soulmate."

There was nothing that could have prepared me for a sting like that.

Her words hurt more than any injury I'd ever had. And unlike the rest, I don't know if I'll recover from it.

"We're the same," I whispered. "Spider-Man and I. Maybe you confused desperation for the same attraction."

"No, Peter."

"It makes sense."

"You and Spider-Man are not the same. You act like two completely different people, and it's because you are. I read an article about it—you're living two different lives."

"What?"

"And you're a mess in both of them."

A mess.

"You don't even know yourself, Peter."

My eyes were burning, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or throw up. She was right. She was completely right. My life was a mess, and I thought my constant screwing-up was just a personality trait. I involved myself in every crime I could just to feel important, and I clung onto Mr. Stark because I thought he'd be the father I never had.

I am a mess.

I always have been.

"I don't want to see you anymore, Parker," she frowned, stepping away from me. "I don't care which side of you is my soulmate. I don't want either".

Turning, she began to walk into the gathering crowd around us. I wanted to run after her, but my senses were pulling me towards the fire raging behind me. I have to save the boat, I remembered.

But I wanted to save us first.

And I suppose this is what being a mess was. Peter Parker wanted the girl, but Spider-Man had responsibilities. I couldn't decide which was more important. I couldn't pick between my two lives, even if it meant losing the person I cared for the most.

So I watched her walk away.

Illıllııllıllı

"Happy, please," I begged into my comms, swinging through the streets of New York. "I need help."

I don't remember what happened in Manhattan—at least not in full—because everything became a blur after she left. All I know is there was a lot of screaming, a lot of fire, and a lot of saving strangers from a sinking boat. I managed to get everyone to safety, but by the time I got back to the river-ledge she was gone.

Happy's monotone voice echoed through the speakers in my mask. "Not a good time, kid."

"This is serious."

"Nick Fury is serious. The Avengers are serious. There's nothing in your tiny little neighborhood that equates to the rest of the world. Not even that churro lady you keep calling me about."

I sighed, narrowly avoiding a streetlamp. "When it has to do with my soulmate, the rest of the world pretty much equates."

"I'm not Tinder, Peter. I'm not getting involved in teenage romance."

"Happy, just listen to me."

"I am listening."

"She knows I'm Spider-Man."

Suddenly, he stopped talking.

There was nothing but silence on the other end, before a loud crunch echoed into the microphone. It sounded like the man had dropped his phone in shock. A few moments later, I heard his voice again.

"What is wrong with you?" He exclaimed. "Why would you tell her?"

"I didn't!"

"How did she find out?"

"I don't know! I really have no idea, Happy, but now she's angry at me, she ran off, and I'm really freaked out over it. That's why I need your help, okay?"

I heard another sigh. I hated feeling like I was only causing more problems for the man (working under Mr. Stark was difficult enough already), but this situation was the worst one I'd ever been in. With every passing second, I thought my stomach was closing in on itself.

I felt like a fly trapped in a spider's web.

"Alright. Deep breaths, Kid."

I inhaled sharply, though it didn't do much good. "Ok."

"I'll talk to Tony as soon as he gets back."

"Ok."

"I'm serious Peter. Breathe."

I didn't say anything in response, heart sinking when he ended the call. Some people were calling out to me from the pavement below, but I wasn't in the mood to be the "friendly neighborhood Spider-Man". All I wanted was to fix my mistakes and know that [y/n] didn't hate me.

I swung through Brooklyn, heart racing so fast I thought I'd pass out. It was only until I reached the familiar building of her flat that I realized just how terribly everything had gone.

The last time I was here, we were on good terms. She'd laughed with me, teased me, and seemed to have forgotten that I'd told her we'd be better off as friends. I'd never been Peter Parker at her flat. I'd always been Spider-Man.

Two lives. It was starting to make sense with each passing hour.

Swinging to a stop, I caught myself on the brick wall of the building. I climbed my way towards her window, staring through the glass. The lights were off. The room seemed untouched. She wasn't there.

Maybe she's not back.

I caught a glimpse of the window next door, the orange glow of lamp lighting flickering into the night. I made my way there instead, leaning my head over the panes to see who was inside.

Luka, her brother, was sitting at his desk.

He looked at me.

Looked back at his computer.

And screamed.

"What the hell?" He panicked, scrambling out of his chair. I'd somehow forgotten that he wasn't used to seeing a red arachnid staring through his window. "Get out!"

I tapped on the glass. "Let me in."

"What is wrong with you?!"

"Luka, come on."

"How do you know my name?"

"Open the window and I'll tell you."

Scrambling off of the carpeted floor, the blue-haired boy slowly made his way towards me. Narrowing his eyes, he unlocked the latch. It was only until he backed away from the window that I burst in from outside.

His room was horrendously decorated in my opinion, but I couldn't tell if I disliked the unbaked-bread coloured walls or were just bitter about what was going on. He had a flower tapestry by his bed, and a hot pink laptop at a desk. A guitar was propped up against his closet.

"Spider-Man," Luka said bluntly.

I ignored him. "Where's [y/n]?"

"Ah, your soulmate."

"It's complicated."

"Tell me about it."

"Where is she?" I asked again, heading towards the door. "Did she come back yet?"

Luka didn't seem concerned that I'd left his room and had begun to stalk through his flat. No one else seemed to be home, or were already asleep. The place was dark and quiet.

"No, she didn't," he said, following me. "Why?"

"I need to talk to her."

"Of course you do."

Slipping down the hallway, I pushed open the door to her room. A part of me wished I'd missed her when I looked through the window, but I knew it was unlikely. As I flicked on the lights, it became clear she wasn't there at all.

In fact, nothing was.

The drawers of her vanity had been pulled open, empty of its contents. Her wardrobe was the same. It was as if someone had robbed her of everything she owned.

"Wait," I heard Luka say behind me. "This isn't how it looked this morning."

"You're sure she didn't come back?"

The look on the boy's face was unsure and that was all I needed to know. She'd taken her things and left.

"Luka, where could she have gone?" I asked, desperation in my voice. "I need to find her."

"This is getting weird, dude. Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, it's not. Is there anywhere she could have gone?"

"Not really."

"Jesus Chri–"

"Why are you even looking for her?" He said, his face morphing into a scowl. "I know what you did to her. That's a pretty crap move friend-zoning her like that."

"I have my reasons, I swear."

"Sure you do."

"You need to help me."

"No."

"Luka, please."

"I said no!" He exclaimed, turning his back on me. "For all I know, you could be some obsessed middle-aged man, and you're trying to stalk my sister. There must be a reason why she doesn't want to see you."

I didn't know what to do. I was running out of options, and the room felt like it was getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and smaller. I glanced at the empty drawers again, fear sinking into my stomach.

I needed to find her.

No matter what.

Webbing Luka in the back, I pulled him into the room, spinning him around to look at me. Without giving it another thought, I took off my mask.

"I'm not a middle-aged man," I said, breath heavy. "I'm her soulmate."

Luka nearly fainted.