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Peter Parker. Your best friend in the world. Spider-Man.
Of course, he didn’t become Spider-Man until long after you met. Before he donned his spider-like alter ego, he was just Peter, a tall, lanky, uncertain boy who was looking for his place in the world. Just as you were.
It was always you and him, until one day he introduces you to his girlfriend, a drop dead gorgeous redhead.
Peter Parker was Spider-Man. He was your best friend. And you were madly, and unrequitedly, in love with him.
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Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Your best friend in the world.
Of course, he didn’t become Spider-Man until long after you met. Before he donned his spider-like alter ego, he was just Peter, a tall, lanky, uncertain boy who was looking for his place in the world the same way you were. Two wide-eyed, little freshmen, terrified of embarking on the endeavor that was high school, and ever since you met him the first day of class in first period, you were attached at the hip. You and Peter, always together, always just the two of you, which suited you just fine. He was your closest friend and confidant and you were his.
Then he was bitten by that spider, and everything changed. When Peter started acting cagey and coming home covered in bruises and cuts, it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. You might not have been as book smart as he was but you knew more about people than he did, and you knew him like the back of your hand.
And so you kept his secret for him. You’d tend to his wounds when he’d inevitably come knocking at your bedroom window, late at night when he couldn’t go home for fear of worrying Aunt May. You’d patch him up, let him recover, and send him off to fight another day, then he’d be back again that night and the cycle would restart. You often wondered, and worried, when his luck would run out, when he’d…lose.
But after days, then months, then years passed and he still showed up at your window every night, your fears eased, albeit deceptively so. The fear-filled thought became dormant.
Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Your best friend in the world.
Of course, he didn’t become Spider-Man until long after you met. Before he donned his spider-like alter ego, he was just Peter, a tall, lanky, uncertain boy who was looking for his place in the world the same way you were. Two wide-eyed, little freshmen, terrified of embarking on the endeavor that was high school, and ever since you met him the first day of class in first period, you were attached at the hip. You and Peter, always together, always just the two of you, which suited you just fine. He was your closest friend and confidant and you were his.
Then he was bitten by that spider, and everything changed. When Peter started acting cagey and coming home covered in bruises and cuts, it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. You might not have been as book smart as he was but you knew more about people than he did, and you knew him like the back of your hand.
And so you kept his secret for him. You’d tend to his wounds when he’d inevitably come knocking at your bedroom window, late at night when he couldn’t go home for fear of worrying Aunt May. You’d patch him up, let him recover, and send him off to fight another day, then he’d be back again that night and the cycle would restart. You often wondered, and worried, when his luck would run out, when he’d…lose.
But after days, then months, then years passed and he still showed up at your window every night, your fears eased, albeit deceptively so. The fear-filled thought became dormant.
Especially after you both got your acceptance letters to NYU.
Your gaze shifts nervously between Peter’s earnest face and the envelope in your hand. He takes your hand, squeezing it nervously as you both sit down on his beat up brown couch, so closely that you can practically hear the pounding of his heart in his chest. He was so much better at school than you were. What if he got in and you didn’t? What would you do if you weren’t able to see each other every day, what if-
“Okay, okay, okay, wait,” he interrupts both your thoughts, taking your hand between both of his. His deep brown eyes seek your own. “No matter what this says, no matter where we end up, we’re always going to be together. We’re always going to be friends.”
You don’t trust your voice not to shake so you simply nod, squeezing his hand back.
You were so grateful that you didn’t need to say goodbye that night.
The years of friendship that you shared with Peter were wonderful and beautiful, which was why you could never tell him your true feelings for him. There were moments that you wanted nothing more than to shout from the rooftops, I love you!, but you held back every single time. You couldn’t ruin your friendship, and you didn’t dare to make it awkward, so you simply stayed quiet and allowed your relationship with Peter to be what it was. Friends. Even though it broke your heart to do so.
But finally, you thought, college would be your chance. You’d confess your feelings to him and whatever he said, you’d be okay with. But you’re in your third year now and you still have yet to say anything to him. You wondered if you ever would.
It’s November in New York City and although the chilly autumn air blows straight through your coat, you don’t feel the cold. You’d applied for a prestigious internship at one of the top architecture studios in New York and the letter acknowledging your acceptance had appeared in your email inbox just moments prior; the excitement that coursed through your veins made you feel like jumping off the walls.
As you practically bounce through the quad, you scan the crowd and when you finally spot Peter sitting alone at a table, deep into his book, you make a beeline for him. You know he can sense you coming from a mile away by the way his gaze flicks up at you from across the grass so you whisper under your breath, knowing he’ll hear you, “I did it.”
A wide smile splits his face as he springs up from his seat, quickly shoving his book into his bag and you practically run to him, grinning from ear to ear as he swings you up into the tightest bear hug.
“I knew you’d get it!” he laughs joyfully as he holds you tight in his arms. “Ohhh, I’m so happy for you.”
“Oh god, Peter, I was so stressed.” You laugh in deep exhales as if you’ve been holding your breath for days.
“I had no doubts,” he murmurs into your hair, holding you tightly.
You pull away abruptly, laughing incredulously. “Liar!”
“No, really! None, absolutely zero.”
“Bullshit.” But you smile at him. He’s been your biggest supporter for years and you know it’s no different now.
“Come on, let’s get some lunch.” He swings an arm around your shoulders. “My treat, to celebrate you becoming the next architecture titan of New York City.”
“I’ll build you the tallest buildings to swing from,” you tease.
“That’d be nice. I’m practically kicking people in the head.”
---
He takes you out to a swanky hipster place close to campus, and you glance at him suspiciously because this place is in no way like any place the two of you usually frequent. You preferred to go to the old, run down, mom-and-pop restaurants.
You open the menu and audibly gasp “A cobb salad for $25?!” You exclaim. “Where the hell did you find this place?”
“MJ brought me here a couple weeks ago. Food’s good.” Peter is suddenly very interested in his menu. You recall him mentioning her name a few weeks ago.
You glance at him before quickly looking back down. “MJ? The girl from your Econ class?” You ask as nonchalantly as you can but a deep pit is forming in your stomach as you try to mask your emotions.
“Yeah, her.”
“I didn’t realize you guys were hanging out,”
“Yeah well, you know, you’ve been so busy with the internship apps...”
An uncomfortable silence falls over the table.
You didn’t realize then that this would be just the first of many silences that you and Peter would share in the years following.
“I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you this,” he sighs, putting the menu down. “MJ and I are dating.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks and you slam your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your jaw from dropping. The pit in your stomach has broken wide open and the feeling that spreads through you sets you on fire. It takes you a moment to identify it. It's jealousy.
“Wow,” you reply quietly, taking a sip of your water. “Since when?”
You’re painfully aware that you must’ve gone beaming red from his revelation. Your face feels uncomfortably hot.
Get a handle on yourself! You mentally chastise yourself as you plaster a neutral expression across your face.
“A couple weeks now. It’s still new but damn, Y/N, she’s….” he trails off as his eyes unfocused, as if he’s seeing something, someone, that’s not there. “She’s amazing.”
You turn your chin down hard, forcing a smile on your face before looking back up. He’s back, focused on you, waiting for your response with an uncertain expression.
“I’m happy for you, Peter.” You deliver your words with a smile and he returns it brightly, no doubt happy with your response. You’re happy it didn’t ring as false to him as it felt to your own ears.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
It’s quiet for a moment, both of you wondering where the conversation will go next so you breathe a sigh.
“So when can I meet her?” You exclaim, hoping your exaggerated tone masks your pain.
“She’s throwing a party on Friday, actually, at her apartment! I’ll introduce you then. You’re gonna love her, Y/N.”
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Imagine you have a coworker who likes to bake. Every week, they bring in a batch of delicious, homemade cookies and leave them in the break room. Next to the plate of cookies is a sign, “If you like my cookies, could you please just leave me a note and tell me what you like about them? The more feedback you leave about what you like, the more incentive I have to bake.” A hundred coworkers walk by and take a cookie. One person leaves a note. “Great cookies! Bake some more soon!”
The next week, once again there are cookies in the break room with the same sign. Once again a hundred people take a cookie and only one person leaves a note. “Nice! More soon!”
Week Three- Once again, a hundred people take a cookie. No one leaves a note.
Week Four- One hundred people take a cookie. No note.
Week Five- There are no cookies. Someone leaves a note. “Where are the cookies? I loved them. Please, please bake some cookies.”
Week Six- There are no cookies. Ten people leave notes. “I miss your cookies. They were my favorites. I loved the chocolate chips. My friend really liked the way you had almonds in the cranberry ones.”
Week Seven- Motivated by the wonderful notes, the baking coworker stays up late to bake the best batch of cookies they have ever made. That week, a hundred people take a cookie. No one leaves a note.
The co-worker gives up baking for their colleagues.
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this whole "job thing" is rlly starting to get in my way. i need to watch made up people falling in love on tv, and then i need to read more extensively about it online. why is that so hard to understand
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
