#on queue!

PFFF ROOTS! 😐 anyway, this post is not a safe place for natural blondes. Get out if you are.

Peter's large hands came to cradle her face, softly stroking the skin while admiring her in the low lighting.

It wasn't a secret he had been going through a particularly rough time after Gwen's death, evident from the way he looked now. From his dyed black hair, painted nails, face piercings and tattoos that spelled out words such as 'strength' or the lyrics 'I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone' inked on his neck and arms.

But still, he was Peter. Her Peter.

“Can I kiss you?” he mumbled.

Excitedly, she nodded her head — eagerly leaning in.

As his lip collided hers, she let out a soft sigh. His lips were soft and pillowy and she could feel him wrapping his hand around the base of her neck as she became immersed by him. Everything was perfect — aside droplets of tears that now laid on her cheeks.

She pulled back, staring at him wide eye as Peter began to violently sob.

“I can’t do this,” he said, hands covering his face. “It’s too early! It doesn’t feel the same!”

“Uh — Peter?! What’s wrong?”

“You’re not even blonde,” he tried to say through heavy heaves and strangled voice.

“I — are you comparing me to Gwen?!”