.ೃ࿔*:･𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐯. you can hear it in the silence

𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑, growing colder and more biting with each passing second. The ground below had long since disappeared into a blur of skyscrapers and clouds, leaving only the distant silhouette of the massive ship looming above. The air thinned, and Ingrid's chest tightening with the increasing altitude.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up. The earpiece nestled in her ear crackled softly as she pressed it, and the mask responded to her touch, materializing around the lower half of her face like a familiar, comforting embrace. The tightness in her chest eased slightly as the mask regulated her breathing.

Ingrid closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply through the mask's filter. The cool, processed air filled her lungs, a stark contrast to the freezing wind whipping past her. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered to herself, the words carrying a mixture of gratitude and longing.

She opened her eyes again, the ship now closer, its vast size overwhelming. But it wasn't the ship that held her attention—it was the familiar figure dangling precariously from a strand of webbing just beneath it. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Peter, suspended in midair, the red and blue of his suit stark against the dark metal of the ship.

Ingrid propelled herself forward, the wind resistance intensifying as she neared the ship. She reached out, gripping the cold metal so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The relentless pull of the ship’s gravity made it feel like it was trying to tear her away, but she held on, determined to stay anchored beside Peter.

As she stabilized herself, her eyes locked onto Peter. He was already looking at her, and for a moment, the tension between them dissolved. “Ingrid!” he called out, his voice carrying a mix of relief and something close to joy. Despite everything—despite the tension that had simmered between them for so long—he was genuinely happy to see her.

Ingrid felt her chest tighten, a swirl of emotions threatening to break through her focus. But she forced herself to stay composed, to keep things light. “Is that a new suit?” she asked, nodding towards the sleek red and blue metal clinging to his form.

She reached out instinctively to grab the ship again as the wind picked up, nearly wrenching her free from her perch. Her fingers dug into the metal, holding on with every ounce of strength she had left. The thought of losing her grip and being swept away, leaving Peter behind, was a fear she refused to entertain.

Peter’s enthusiasm cut through the tension in the air. “Yep!” he replied, his tone bright and eager, as if they weren’t both hanging on for dear life thousands of feet above the ground. She watched as his body swayed dangerously in the wind. “It’s cool, right?”

Ingrid couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, though it remained hidden beneath her mask. She rolled her eyes, the gesture one of familiar exasperation. “It’s alright,” she shot back, her tone teasing despite the gravity of their situation.

Peter maneuvered himself carefully along the ship’s exterior, using his webs to anchor and pull himself toward the airlock. With one final, determined tug, he managed to crawl inside the small, enclosed space, his feet landing firmly on the metal floor. He took a moment to steady himself, then immediately turned back, his hand reaching out through the opening.

“C’mon, I got you!” he called out, his voice strained but steady as he extended his hand toward Ingrid.

Ingrid glanced up, her heart pounding as she registered the distance between them. The wind tugged at her relentlessly, threatening to rip her away from the ship’s surface. But Peter’s hand was there—solid, reassuring, and just within reach. She didn’t hesitate. With a sharp intake of breath, she reached up, her hand clasping tightly around his wrist.

Peter’s grip was firm, his fingers curling around her arm as he pulled her up. With one swift motion, he hoisted her onto the narrow ledge beside him. They landed together, their breaths ragged from the effort, and for a brief moment, neither of them moved. The doors of the airlock began to close around them with a heavy, mechanical whir, sealing them inside the small, pressurized chamber.

As the noise of the outside world faded, leaving only the sound of their labored breathing, Peter finally spoke. “You shouldn’t have followed me. You should’ve stayed with your dad,” he said, each word punctuated by the breaths he was trying to catch.

Ingrid met his gaze, her expression unreadable. She could hear the concern laced in his voice, could feel the weight of his words pressing down on her.

She rolled her eyes, more out of habit than anything else, but the gesture felt hollow, the usual humor in it absent. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating, as she let his words sink in, echoing in the small space around them. For a moment, she wondered if maybe he was right—maybe she should have stayed back. But then she pushed those thoughts aside, steeling herself against the doubt.

“Who said I’m here because of you?” Ingrid replied, her voice quiet but firm, the words carrying a hint of defiance as they cut through the silence.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Peter blurted out, his voice tinged with desperation as he scrambled to explain. “I just… I figured you probably aren’t here because of Mr. Stark, so I thought…” His words trailed off, uncertainty creeping into his tone as he realized how tangled his thoughts had become. He fell into an awkward silence, his gaze dropping to the floor as if searching for the right thing to say.

Ingrid’s eyes softened as she watched him struggle. The way he was trying so hard to make sense of her actions, of her presence here. She almost wished she could tell him the truth, but the words caught in her throat, refusing to come out. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of: she lied.

“Yes, I am,” Ingrid said, her voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The lie felt bitter on her tongue, but she forced herself to hold his gaze, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t see through her. But she knew Peter better than that. She knew the way his eyes searched hers, the way he could always tell when something wasn’t quite right.

Peter tried suppressing a laugh, a quiet, almost amused sound escaping him. “Still, you haven’t seen your dad in a long time,” he said, his voice softening with a gentleness that made her chest tighten.

The truth of his words hit her harder than she expected. She leaned her head back against the cold metal wall, closing her eyes as if that could somehow push away the guilt that gnawed at her insides.

“We’ll be back soon,” Ingrid murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Peter looked at Ingrid, the concern in his eyes mingling with the faint traces of a smile. He could sense the turmoil beneath her calm facade, the burden she was trying so hard to hide. The silence between them was filled with a mix of relief and lingering tension, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavy.

“Alright,” Peter said, finally breaking the silence, his tone carrying a note of reluctant acceptance. “We’ll get through this, and then we can figure things out. Whatever’s going on, we’ll deal with it together.”

Ingrid’s eyes opened slowly, and she turned her head to meet his gaze. The sincerity in his words was both comforting and painful. She nodded, though her heart felt heavy with the unspoken truth she couldn’t bring herself to share.