PETER 🕷

_

I SCREWED THAT UP.

Not just the thing with the girl—scientist, [y/n], I don't know what to call her—but my entire day. I started off this morning by crashing into her, then I tackled her to the ground in the afternoon, and now I had been smelling like trash and sweat in front of her.

Why her?

I'd never met her before, and yet somehow she's now around every single corner I turn. Maybe she's watching me. No, that's ridiculous. Is it? I'm having a crisis right now, and I really don't have time for that. I have to finish some English homework, then Ned's coming over later, and then dinner with May and Ned at a taco place, and anyways, I'd rather not think about my schedule right now.

I need to hide these bruises.

Letting out an agitated groan, I pressed my forehead on the tiled walls of my shower, the warm water running down my back like a comforting blanket. I had gotten beaten up pretty badly an hour earlier—stopped an armed robbery, noticed one of the criminals escaped, ran after said criminal, didn't know they had ten evil-creepy-dudes waiting around the back, got beaten up, didn't realize I had somehow wandered into Brooklyn, ran into...her, and yadda' yadda'—you know what happened after that.

I managed to stop the robbers, but they left me with a black eye, a limp, and some gashes on my stomach.

"Darn it, I'm out of conditioner," I frowned, eyeing the mint-green bottle in my hands, "best day ever."

Since there was clearly no point in using up any more water, I shut off the faucet and climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist with one hand. I snatched up a round bottle from the cabinet with the other—a concealer MJ bought for me a few weeks ago.

Fun fact about being Spider-Man: it means I'm decent at makeup.

How else am I supposed to cover up all the injuries I get from fighting crime? If May saw the state I was in, she'd think I was part of a nefarious gang, move me to Colorado, and make me live in isolation until I was twenty.

I wasn't a beautify guru, or anything, but I was—

"Oh good, you're wearing a towel," May said, throwing open the bathroom door, "Ned's here."

As soon as I sensed her presence wavering by the doorway, I snapped my head to the opposite wall, making sure she couldn't see the giant bruise on my upper cheekbone.

"Thanks, May, um—" I stammered, waving my hand to shoo her away, "I'll be out in a second!"

I sensed her furrowing her brow. "Why do you sound nervous, Pete?"

"I'm not nervous."

"Do you not want Ned here? Are you guys fighting?"

"No, no, nothing like that," I said quickly, my eyes digging into one of the blue tiles of the bathroom wall, "but can I have a little privacy please?"

As luck would have it, May shut the door, leaving me alone in my own bubble of panic. She thankfully didn't see the bruise, but now she probably thinks I was mad at Ned. I didn't know he'd show up early, though. I thought had a good hour before our hangout, because that would give me time to finish my work and make myself look presentable—

"Oh good, you're wearing a towel," Ned said, throwing open the bathroom door, "are you mad at me?"

I nearly fell into the shower.

"Of course I'm wearing a towel!" I exclaimed, "why is everyone asking me that? And why does no one know how to knock?"

Ned was standing in the doorway, a fedora on his head, and a copy of Star Wars Ep. III in his hands. I didn't have to worry about hiding the bruise from him, thankfully, because he found out about my secret-identity on accident a couple months ago. I did worry about being half-naked in a towel, though.

"Can you give me a second?" I sighed, waving him out of the door, "I'm a little busy right now."

Ned squinted his eyes. "That's a big bruise, Peter."

"I'm aware."

"Are you going to cover it up?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, already shutting the door, "now give me a minute, Ned!"

Slamming it shut, I exhaled, slapping my palm to my forehead. I could hear my friend mumbling 'you said a second the first time' as he wandered down the hallway and into my room probably about to start setting up for our movie night.

I took the rest of the time to cover my wound and change into reasonable clothes.

Illıllııllıllı

"SO, YOU HAD SPIDER-WEBS?" Ned asked, shoving popcorn into his mouth, "and not a red-string?"

We were about halfway into the movie when I mentioned yesterday's dilemma. I'd been giving it a lot of thought recently, and it was tiring me out. Why can't I just be happy for once? I'm already bad in the love-department, and I don't need a reminder that I'm going to die alone.

"Dude," Ned exhaled, shaking his head, "you're going to die alone."

I frowned. "Thanks, man."

Digging my hand into the popcorn bowl, I tried to put my focus on stress-eating my worries away. It's not like I wanted a girlfriend, because that's stressful and I don't think they'd like me very much, but I also did want one. No. Yes. See? I'm not even capable of thinking about people romantically.

I think the longest conversation I've had with a girl who wasn't MJ, May, or the Churro Lady, was with the science girl.

She's pretty.

"I met a girl, though," I sighed into my arms, "a real one."

I could sense Ned's confusion from behind the confines of my hoodie sleeves, and I agreed with him. I never met girls. Not on purpose, anyways. They either ignored me, gave me a dirty look, or I ran the other way out of pure fear. I was much better at talking to criminals—and those usually ended up in a big fight.

But [y/n] was nice.

She told me I smelled like trash.

In a nice way.

I'm not sure why that seems like a big deal, but now all I can think about is crashing into her this morning, tackling her, and seeing her in the middle of the night because she's really pretty and she likes science too and oh my god Peter you are sounding like a creep please stop this does not sound healthy or stable.

"Do you know someone named [y/n]?" I asked abruptly, turning to look at Ned.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, she's in our class."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but she's hardly ever around," he said, "she's in that super-selective STEM program, so she's always skipping classes to do science experiments."

Weird, I didn't even know Midtown had a 'super selective STEM' program. Then again, I hardly ever pay attention to anything about the school. It did explain why she wandered into my Chemistry class this morning and started making some weird form of cookie dough. It looked yummy, though.

"Wait, are you saying you met her?" Ned exclaimed, "she's like a ghost, man, how did you even run into her?"

I smiled sheepishly. "I literally ran into her."

"Not surprising."

"Hey!"

"But seriously, I'm not sure if I'm more impressed that you actually spoke to a girl, or that the girl happened to be [y/n]," Ned said, scratching the bottom of his chin inquisitive, "is she cool?"

I squinted my eyes. "Yes, she's cool."

"Is she nice?"

"Yes."

"Do you actually know her?"

I paused, mulling it over in my brain. I only met her this morning, exchanged a few sentences in the afternoon, and ran away smelling like trash in the evening. I didn't really 'know' her, I guess. But I wanted to.

"Of course," I lied, scoffing for effect, "why wouldn't I know her?"

That's it, Peter, he believes you.

"I don't believe you," Ned frowned, "what's her favorite color, then?"

Darn it, Peter, you screwed up.

I winced. "Purple?"

"Her favorite food?"

"Donuts without the holes."

"Favorite song?"

"Never gonna' give you up," I grinned, shaking my shoulders, "never gonna' let you down, never gonna' run around and desert you..."

I was trying to change the subject by putting on a miniature performance, because Ned would see through my lies. I didn't like lying, but when Ned said that she was some 'ghost' that nobody really saw, I felt cool for getting to talk to her. I felt like if he knew I didn't really know her, then I'd lose my cool points.

I also just liked the thought of knowing her.

She seemed cool.

"Does she have a soulmate?" Ned asked suspiciously, hitting the space-bar on his computer to stop the movie, "I don't know why you'd bother with someone who isn't your soulmate."

I shrugged. "She said she had 'soulmate complications'."

"Sounds familiar," he smiled, "you also have 'soulmate complications'."

"Yeah, but she has a red-string and I don't."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No..."

"Then I don't see the issue," Ned shrugged, "now shut up and let's watch Star Wars."