CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
IT'S LOVE ADJACENT

"OH, my god," Amelia whispered and there was dread and worry underlining her tone. Gemma had wandered closer too, to watch the disaster as it unfolded. The quietness in the room was pierced when Amelia's phone rang and they all jumped a little. She swallowed, finding it hard to tear her gaze away from the television screen, still she answered.

"Uh," she cleared her throat, "um, hello?"

"Amelia?"

The voice was unfamiliar. Amelia's eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah?"

"I'm May, Peter's aunt."

"Oh," Amelia said. She said oh like oh and the other two girls turned their heads to look at her. "May," she told them.

"Yes," May's voice sounded frantic and worried. "I was wondering if you'd seen Peter? The school called, saying he ran out of detention and he hasn't been home and then this ferry thing happens." Something tightened in Amelia's chest. "I ─ "

"May," Amelia interrupted, "uh, calm down. I'm sure he's alright, yeah?" Amelia tried her best to sound reassuring but that was becoming virtually impossible while also watching the live footage of him dangling mid-air.

"I've called him so many times," May fretted and something in her voice broke Amelia's heart. Anger flared in her towards Peter. How could he be so careless, so reckless? "He isn't picking up. I called all his friends. Nobody knows where he is."

"Okay," Amelia said and Gemma saw her put her Amelia Sóng mask back on. It was crazy how different both parts of her were. Amelia stood up, shoulders pulled back, a crease between her eyebrows. "Uh, do you want me to go look for him?" she asked May. "Any place he would go when he's ─ I don't know?" Amelia knew this was all pointless. She knew exactly where Peter was but she couldn't tell May that. 

"I ─ There's ─ I don't know, I can't think. I ─ " May wasn't crying but she very well could have been. There was a twist in Amelia's heart when she heard her shaky voice. The voice just before someone was about to cry and Amelia knew it because of all the times she had heard her mother like that. There was a lump in her throat fighting her better instinct of not crying.

She shuffled away from the television, away from the center of the apartment, from the center of attention. Gemma slowly retreated towards the kitchen too, but Monika still sat cross-legged watching the news coverage.

Amelia glanced once outside through the window at the beautiful day. The midday sun shining at its peak. September weather drenched all the people walking down on the sidewalk ─ kids skipping and playing on a Sunday. Birds cooing and trees humming with the wind. Amelia sighed quietly and pressed the phone tighter to her ear. "Alright, May, May listen." And May quietened on the other side. There was nobody who could be spared of Amelia's persuasive voice. "He's just being a teenager, alright," she said, trying to sound light and reassuring at the same time. "He's probably at some corner shop buying Tic Tacs. He's okay." May chuckled quietly. "He's okay. He'll be home. He's just acting out." Amelia at this point didn't know if she was telling this to May or herself. She glanced over her shoulder at the television where she could no longer find the splash of red and blue. "Throwing himself head-first into danger without thinking just to show he's tough. He'll be back. You need to, uh, you need to worry a little bit less." When there was a long pause on the other end, Amelia's eyebrows furrowed. "May?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just checking if I accidentally called my therapist."

Amelia exhaled a smile as she heard May chuckle. "Yeah, no, I'm used to it." She was. She had been Helen Song's crutch in her most fragile time. It was second nature to her.

"Thank you, Amelia," May said, sincere.

"Sure," she replied, "no problem. Take care, May." Then the call ended and Amelia's shoulders sagged. She kept staring at the screen of her phone expectant.

"That was some talk," Monika piped in from behind.

Amelia hummed, her thumb hovering over contact's list. "What's happening now?" she asked, then pulled her bottom lips with her teeth.

"Um, nothing, actually. Iron Man came in to save the day."

"Did he?" It was rhetorical. It felt rhetorical so Monika didn't answer, instead, she watched Amelia's put her phone back against her ear. Her feet tapped restlessly against the floor and she caught her thumbnail between her teeth. When the call failed, she pulled her phone down and redialed her face red with anger or worry, Monika couldn't tell. Maybe it was both. That same hostility towards Peter threatened to spill again in Monika's heart. She couldn't believe Amelia was choosing him. Him. Peter Parker. She guessed there was something to him, only she couldn't see it.

"Are you calling Parker?" Gemma asked simply.

"Yes," Amelia replied, definitely fuming.

"Are you angry?"

"Mostly."

"That doesn't change your cake preferences, yes?"

"No, Gem."

"Great!" Gemma grinned and Amelia shook her head, retreating back to the couch to curl up against Monika.

WHEN the knock had sounded, Gemma lay curled up against Monika on the couch, a blanket pulled up over her. When the knock had sounded the television had been paused on a scene from a movie. When the knock had sounded, the apartment was full of the heavenly smell of the cake Gemma had baked. When the knock had sounded, Monika carefully untangled her limbs from Gemma's, unable to help that smile that formed on her face. She had padded across the floor barefooted to open the door. Amelia would have done it, but she had secluded herself in her room hours ago and hadn't come out. Twilight had fallen and most delicate things like flowers, and birds, and Gemma had curled up to doze off.

When the knock had sounded, Monika had not expected the visitor to him. "Oh, it's you," she said and felt the sourness against her tongue. Peter Parker stood there, hands stuffed in his jeans pocket.

"Hello to you, too," Peter replied. He didn't wait for her to invite him in because she would never. As he shuffled inside past her, he said, "Not very fond of me, are you?"

"You're certainly very observant, Parker," Monika commented sarcastically, shutting the door. "I'll give you that. What's with the face?" She pointed towards him, her nose turned up.

"What face?"

"It has child endangerment written all over it."

"Ha. Ha," Peter forced the laugh perfunctory. He glanced around the apartment. He had always known that Amelia lived here without her parents and with Monika but he had never seen the place. It was a nice place. The kitchen looked like it had been cleaned recently and the sweet smell of baked goods hung in the air. There was an orange couch sitting in the middle of the living room and on it Gemma Burke was curled into a ball with a blanket over her, sleeping like a cat. A smile teased the corner of his mouth when his gaze flickered towards the frozen television screen. "Princess Bride?" he asked quietly.

"It's the only thing that distracts her," Monika mumbled and crossed her arms defensively. He glanced at her. "You do know we saw it all on the news, right? The whole disaster."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," he shook his head and looked at his shoes. He wasn't here to justify himself. 

Monika had wanted to go full-on aggressive but she halted. She had wanted to teach him a lesson but she halted. She saw his face and she halted. She knew that face, she had seen it in the mirror too often. The fear of being a disappointment and the loneliness that came with that fear. She saw the fissures in the mask Peter had donned to knock on their door and she halted. "Why'd you come through the front door, Peter?" she asked and Peter looked. He had never heard her voice sound so sincere.

He didn't look away from her. "I didn't want to feel ingenuine." Peter felt raw after he had confessed that and it probably would've bothered him before, Monika seeing him like this, but it didn't now, not really. And it surprised him, though he didn't show it.

"That's the least of what you owe her," Monika said. She stepped closer and pointed her finger at his chest, her sharply filed nail brushing his t-shirt. "You know what, when she calls, I want you to pick up," she ordered, or threatened, or warned. Peter was too overwhelmed to tell. "Even if you're half dead. Or I'll come and finish you off myself." Threatened, definitely.

"Yeah, I get it," he nodded.

"Do you?" she asked rhetorically, a razor-sharp eyebrow raised at him. She stepped back and dropped her hand. "You want orange juice or something?"

"No, I'm good."

"You don't look good."

"Thanks," Peter smiled tolerantly.

"Actually," she continued, as if he hadn't said anything, "you look a bit peaky. Are you gonna puke? Do you need a bag?"

It wasn't the atmosphere for jokes so the words hung in the air awkwardly. Or maybe they didn't. Peter didn't know. He was trying to prepare what to say to Amelia but his mind refused to cooperate, still muddled with the thoughts of his suit and the ferry incident and Tony Stark and his Aunt May and all the world's problems. The only reason Peter didn't break right now was because of Monika's gaze. 

He looked up and met her eyes. Why had he come here? To apologize? He could've called. Amelia would have understood. But the ache in his heart remained. Amelia might have understood but he'd stay restless all night if he didn't see her. Again the warning flashed in his head: DO NOT FALL IN LOVE. Well then help me, he thought, god or whoever is watching. He needed some help. He wanted to be a better Spider-Man to New York and a better son to May. A better friend to Ned. I need some help, please, god, he thought. This is unfair. And I need some help.

"I had to stop them, you know," he said quietly to Monika. He wasn't justifying it but he had to say it. "I had to do something."

"Like slicing a boat in half?" Monika asked. "Was it fun, though? I imagine it being fun."

Again, Peter didn't have the capacity to come up with a worthy retort. He felt drained. He sighed through his nose. "I just want to apologize to her."

"You've been self-reflecting, haven't you?" she turned up her nose and perched on the armrest of the couch. "I can see it on your face." Peter frowned and wrapped his arms around himself, leaning against the back of the couch to keep Monika in eyeline. "Trauma does that. But don't use her ─ "

"I would never," he spoke at once without hesitation. Even the thought of it was unacceptable to him.

There was the briefest of pause. It was true that Monika was not used to this kind of honesty from strangers. And it had been so long since she had had someone to talk to about Amelia. "Don't use her to fill a gap in you. It doesn't work. Never does. She's not a thing that you can have whenever you feel like it. Not someone you can come to for comfort and only when you need it the most and not be there for anything else."

"I know that," Peter nodded aggressively and touched his chin to his left shoulder to look at Monika and found her already looking at him. "I would never," he whispered.

Monika's eyes were shining but they weren't tears. It was true that it was Amelia who had promised to take care of Monika but the world be damned if Monika wouldn't return the gesture tenfold. "If you break her heart," she said, her voice like a knife, "I will end you."

"Don't worry." Peter shook his head and looked down at his shoes. "I won't. I won't have her heart in the first place to break it, anyways." He pushed off the couch to stand away and walk towards Amelia's room but Monika stopped him.

"That's not how it works, Parker, and you know it." He turned and looked at her. Now those were tears shining in her eyes. "The day we met she took my arm and whispered in my ear . . . We're going to be best friends. And she meant it. She did her best to make it come true, even when I kept her at arm's length. The way I did with everyone. She saw through the party girl mask I always wore. Saw the frightened, abused kid inside. She doesn't see who she gives her heart to, she just does."

Peter gave Monika the smallest of smiles as she wiped away a stray tear hating that it was Peter Parker who had witnessed her breakdown. "I know," he said. "It's not that that I don't want to. It's just ─ I shouldn't. I can't. I can't do that. I just can't." He shook his head as if to discard all other thoughts. "Everyone gets hurt." He swallowed and looked at Monika and thought of Uncle Ben. "I'm incendiary with a large blast radius."

Monika's lips parted as if she wanted to say something then she pursed them. After a moment, she said, "That's a nice way to put it." Peter shrugged. She gestured towards Amelia's door with her chin. "Go do whatever you came here to do. And if you feel miserable afterward, I've got some cake." Peter finally formed a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting up as Monika patted his shoulder then took off towards the kitchen to open the Tupperware storing said cake.

Peter walked towards Amelia's door and raised his fist and knocked. He braced himself then, as if expecting a blow. He would rather take the Vulture over this tug-of-war between his heart and his mind. Amelia's voice touched his ears before he saw her, flowing through the door.

"If you're here to ask if I'm okay one more time I'm gonna punch you so hard into another galaxy ─ " The door opened. Amelia halted. Her eyes took in Peter and she blinked. "Oh," she said. "Peter."

"Hey," he offered shyly as she let him in past her.

Shutting the door behind her, hand still on the knob, she leaned her back against it. "So, you know where I live," she said sarcastically.

"I've always known where you live," Peter answered, taking in the room. The last time he had been here it had been very late at night and he had just sat on the windowsill. He hadn't seen her room ever before this. Lavender walls met neatly. A large poster of Empire Strikes Back was stuck on the wall above her bed and it almost brought a smile to Peter's face. The wall next to it was covered in an enormous map of the world, places Amelia had visited marked on it. There was a poster of Rent and Tangled and The Avengers. A collage of various pictures Peter decorated the third wall. "I've been here before, you know."

"Really?" her eyebrows rose up mockingly. "Didn't seem like that a few hours ago. Nor did it seem like you remembered my number or possibly owned a phone."

"It died."

"Ah. It died, did it?" Amelia pushed off the door and stalked closer to Peter. She pointed towards the window to her left with her thumb. "Say, if I pushed you out this window will you get hurt?"

"Physically, no," he shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Amelia wanted to be angry longer. She really did, but she was just so relieved to see he was alright. She crumpled like a piece of paper on the bed, exhaustion finally winning. "Do you know how many times I called, Peter?" her voice was heavy.

Peter dared not look at her. The warning in his head flashed bright red. "Seventeen," he said.

"May was devastated," she continued, all her anger and worry pouring out in words that slowly increased in volume as she went on. "She was panicking so much and she didn't even watch the live coverage of what you were doing! And I was so freaking scared!" She stood up now, fingers tugging at the roots of her hair, and turned her back to him. "I was so scared, Peter. Why do you always have to be so reckless?!"

When he didn't answer, Amelia turned, her arms back to her sides. Peter was still looking at the floor, leaned against her desk, unmoving and Amelia's eyebrows knitted. She approached him cautiously and frowned. "Hey," she whispered and placed her index finger under his chin, tilting his face up.

Peter's eyes were rimmed red and he was trying his hardest not to cry. She could tell. She knew that face. Her frown deepened and Peter tried to smile, just so she would, too. He couldn't so she didn't. "Mr. Stark took my suit back," he told her. It wasn't the absence of suit that hurt him, it was what the absence of the suit meant. Tony Stark had lost his faith in Peter Parker. And Peter could not bear being a disappointment any longer. When he had first decided to use this curse he had been given for good, he had never thought doing the right thing could hurt so many people.

"Peter," Amelia sighed. "I'm sorry."

And god, Peter thought, here was Amelia again, apologizing. Peter blinked down at her. Her fingers still lingered by his chin, cold tips brushing against his cheek. "No, it's uh ─ " he chuckled mirthlessly, "it is kinda my fault." The lump in his throat was making it difficult to talk. Amelia's thumb wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

"You gotta lay low," she said.

"No," Peter shook his head and looked down at her with a mournful smile, "can't do that."

"You've got to," she told him. She was so scared. What if that Vulture guy found out it was Peter behind the mask? Then what? An unfamiliar terror filled her. She shook her head, eyebrows knitted. "I mean, why . . . ?"

"Because of today," Peter said simply with a shrug. "Those people, they're making dangerous weapons. And that big vulture guy ─ whoever he was ─ would have killed people. So . . . I gotta go after it."

"That's not your job," Amelia said, her chest tightening.

Peter shrugged. "Maybe it is." Amelia's face softened and her eyes shined. The sky outside was darkening and a spell of grey thunder clouds had started to gather. She placed her hand against his cheek and Peter froze for a moment as if he was scared. The alarms in his head were red and on high alert. This Amelia was different. There weren't fortresses and moats here you had to cross to reach here. This Amelia was his favorite, with her oversized hoodie and her messy hair. There was something terrible about how this Amelia made him feel at the moment, though.

Amelia cursed herself internally. Monika was right. Her fingers itched to brush back the hair that hung over Peter's forehead. Just then he looked younger than she'd ever seen him, his eyes narrowed, hair messed up, features unstudied. Young and, strangely enough, afraid. God, she was in so much trouble. Without hesitating, she threw her arms around him. The hug was warmer than either of their bodies. Amelia's arms wound about his neck and Peter's palms pressed against her spine.

And Peter exhaled. The knot in his chest untangled. A shiver ran down his spine when Amelia's chilly hand brushed the nape of his neck, but still, he held on to her like a lifeboat. She was so small though. He wasn't very tall, not really, but she just reached his chin ─ and right now, with her head tucked under ─ Peter felt . . . held. He didn't know how else to describe it. He had never had anyone ask him these questions before, never had anyone tell him how incredibly dangerous it was out there. Though he knew that. Of course, he knew that. But it felt better. This felt better. He felt seen. 

There was a floodgate waiting to break in Amelia. She felt Peter's fingers splayed against her spine as his arms curved around her back. The fear she felt let go and gripped her tighter all at once. Peter was here now, in her arms. Peter could get hurt fighting. Peter was so warm in here. Peter could die out there. Everything else vacated her mind until all that was left was: Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter. She wanted to scream.

When they let go, lightning cracked. Amelia jumped a little but Peter was looking at the poster of The Avengers on her bedroom wall. "God, I thought I could do anything," he said. "I really thought I could be one of them."

"Peter," Amelia said. Her arms were still around his neck. "You're still you. Sometimes, that's all that matters. You've still got your heart." She tapped his chest, just above where his heart would be, with her index finger. "Try to remember where you got the strength the first time you put on your suit. It's not about what you're wearing, it's about what you carry." Amelia was looking at him but Peter was still looking where she had pointed his heart. He wanted to tell her that's not where it was, not anymore, not really. The sirens in his mind had quietened. It hadn't worked. Peter had failed. He'd never been happier to fail. "Was that too much?" Amelia asked quietly, unsure and scared.

Peter looked at her from under his lashes. There was an amused smile on his face that gradually softened the longer he stared at her. "No, it was perfect," he whispered. It was perfect. She was perfect. "It really was. Thanks."

A childlike smile unfurled on Amelia's face. "Anytime," she said and Peter's heart skipped a beat. Anytime. "I'll be your personal cheerleader. See now that all of that is out of the way you can finally focus on homecoming."

Peter grinned. "Yeah?" His arms found their way around her waist.

"Um-hm," she nodded innocently. "Do you have a date?"

A playful smile danced on Peter's face. He shook his head. "No." He should ask her. He didn't think she had a date. Did she want him to ask her? Maybe so. Maybe not. Either way, he should try his luck. His lips parted to do so, but Amelia interrupted.

"Then you should go ask Liz!" Amelia said with extra ferocity and enthusiasm, trying to tamp down the feeling rising in her. The floodgate held. Peter's arms from her waist fell. She snaked her arms away from around his neck.

"Liz?" Peter asked, voice thin. Thunder boomed outside.

"Yeah," Amelia said. "She's totally gonna say yes, Peter. Who's not gonna say yes to you." Me. I'm not gonna say yes. Please don't ask me. I won't have the heart to say no. And I can't say yes. I can't fall in love with you. I don't want to lose you that way. I can't lose you that way.

Peter saw it though. The flimsy doubt, that twitch in her eye, her nose upturned. He read her like an open book. Only it was coded and he knew just a few of the clues to crack it. "You sure I should ask her?" he asked, eyebrows quirked up.

Amelia's shoulders tightened. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Amelia wasn't. But all she could see was the New York skyline. The skyscrapers trying to touch the moon. And Spider-Man falling. Falling and falling and falling with no one there to catch him.