#spiderprotoge

SHE WATCHES HIM AS HE EATS, EYEBROWS KNITTING TOGETHER IN CURIOSITY.  he’s a bit of a messy eater, isn’t he? it actually kind of makes her  smile. nick was always messy, and in that way it reminds her of him. a  sweet  memory. finally. 

let me guess, you were the opposite?  either she’s  extremely  cliche, or maybe it’s something personal, something that resonates with  him. again, it could just be that he’s good with people, which is definitely a trait she sees unfolding before her eyes. shifting in her seat  (  a booth ; they decided to stop in a restaurant for the night  ), she brings her arm up on the table, other set up by her elbow to rest her jaw in her palm. long, auburn locks come down, framing her face ; sometimes she just likes to  hide  in it. her hair is almost like a kind of  security  blanket.  ❝  i guess i was always a bit of a perfectionist. ❞   that  and  the fact that she had to be. to hold her mom together, to hold nick together... she assumed the role of an adult far too soon, and only now is she becoming comfortable about indulging herself. though, at the same time, she doesn’t particularly like  herself.  

she’s really  enjoying  talking to him. he’s taking her mind off of a lot right now, reminding her that she’s still  human. some parts of that sweet, caring girl have to come back somehow.  ❝  i did what i had to do, got it done.. ❞  she rests back, folding her hands in her lap while a bittersweet chuckle escapes, partial smile pulling at the corner of her lips.  ❝  i remember one time when i was fourteen.. i had this school project, and i was struggling a little bit in the class, so i was really excited to get it done so she’d give me the extra credit points i needed to get it up to an A. it was a, like.. paper mache-like map of the world. i put it down on the couch for a  minute, and nick comes-- strutting in, and just jumps onto the couch. oh, god, the neighbors -- i’m sure they thought we were watching jurassic park-- i mean, the sounds that came out of my mouth. my mom comes rushing in, i’m yelling, she keeps telling me to ‘calm down, calm down, he didn’t mean to’, and i just... ❞  she trails off, head shaking as her gaze comes to a halt, looking at the ground ; it’s clear her mood has shifted to something more  melancholy.  ❝  we always had to make sure nick was safe. ❞

HURT STARTERS.  //  @spiderprotoge 

nothing  could prepare her for the sudden onset of emotions that  plagues  her the moment they’re inside the stadium. john needs more bandages to keep him alive -- a injury of her doing. she had meant to aim for naomi -- laura, whatever the hell her name is -- but john being the noble man he is took a forward step at just the right time. god, if he would have just held back this would all be over, she would have some kind of peace. the only reason she’s helping them now, even attempting to save this man, is because of peter.

after the stand-off, peter finally seeing the dark side of her that included a gun to morgan’s head and the barbaric hunt for naomi’s head, she doesn’t know why he’s still here at her side. she’s on her knees when she hears him shuffle up behind her, gaze set out on the field of charred walkers as they scratch at the van  (  she thinks maybe madison is still out there  ). with her head down, she breaks a longing silence with a bitter laugh that’s followed by a  sniffle, and she brings her forearm to press up beneath her nose.  ❝  i don’t know who i am, ❞  she weeps out, head shaking.  ❝  i just want her dead, she-- she did this! she killed her! ❞  the weeping soon turns into sobbing, words that come from her mouth nearly incoherent. she lets it take over her, lets the sounds rip through the hall, booming out into the open space of the field, but it doesn’t feel like enough. she needs more -- she needs to get her point across more. this isn’t all the pain she’s feeling. oh, god, no -- there’s so much more.

               it’s okay to hurt and break down. you don’t have to be strong all the time.

but that’s just the  problem:  she always has had to be the strong one. and now it weighs so heavy on her, the burden of her brother. having nursed him when he was sick, cleaning him up when he threw up all over himself, being the silent one to sneak around behind him like a prey in the night, picking up the incriminating evidence he left behind. he doesn’t even know some of the things she’s done behind the scenes, and now he never  will. 

               it’s okay to hurt and break down. you don’t have to be strong all the time.

it takes a moment for his words to come back around, and once they do it sends shocks down her body. goosebumps erupt, hands shake, and she curls into herself. thick hair falls down on either side of her face, flowing to the front to hide her features. she’s in her own bubble, it’s just that this time she doesn’t feel so  alone. the sensation of peter’s hand on her shoulder causes her body to jerk, but then she pieces herself back together, the collapse of her heart showing by how she wails,  ❝  she killed her! she killed my mom! she killed my mom --  ❞

it’s nothing  too  over the top  (  is it?  ). she’s straightened her hair, only put on a bit of makeup  (  that includes some blood red lipstick  ), and she’s has a lacy floral dress on that dips kindly into cleavage. her shoes are a nude shade, and as far as accessories go she only has a simple pair of small  (  fake  )  diamond earrings. she had offered to go over to his place, even just meet him somewhere, but he had made it apparent that he wanted to pick her up.

he’s a gentleman, that’s for sure.

a knock with a rhythm echos through her dorm room, and it causes a small smile to tug at the corner of her lips. all she can think of is what a nerd.  it isn’t often that she dresses up like this, and she’s thoroughly contemplated putting on flats and dulling the look down, but it’s a little too late for that now. heels click against the floor, making her internally cringe, and she makes her way across the room to curl fingers around the doorknob, pulling it open. what’s behind door number one? a very shy-looking peter parker. it’s adorable. hey, he gathered enough courage to ask her out, she has to give him that.

❝  hi.. ❞  maybe she’s a little shy, too. ❝  i’m-- this is way too much for a sushi place, isn’t it? ❞

she’s up before him out of habit.  there was a time she’d be the last out the door, but a dying world asks the living for  more  give. underwear is pulled up, setting on her hips, peter’s shirt then drawn over her shoulders to settle on her frame. fingers tuck a  small  portion of hair on either side of her head behind her ears, and her mind races while she pads across the room with bare feet ; any other day she’d have her tea, maybe coffee, stretch out and unwind, but today she immediately heads for business. anything and  everything  to push away everything that happened last night because she  meant  it. she doesn’t throw around those three words easily. she’s terrified. she nearly got him killed yesterday  (  she’ll never let herself live down from it, even if it wasn’t technically her fault  ), emotions from their discussion the night before causing an ache in her chest.  what would she do if she lost him? 

auburn locks have fallen to frame her face, and she uses it to hide herself when she turns and sees him watching.  ❛  hey.. ❜   she only hates him because of how much she  loves  him. his eyes on her set her skin on fire, make butterflies swarm in the pit of her stomach, and now she’s  frustrated  because she knows there’s no way she could ever look him in the eyes and try to act like what she feels isn’t there. he pulls it out of her.  hi..  shoulders drop, bravado clear once its gone ; she’s small, weak -- damn near wants to let the words come back out again like a meal on a sick stomach. the small pencil pouch that holds the band-aids is clutched in her hand, and she walks over to him, crouching down next to where he lays.  ❛  does it feel okay? ❜   it’s cold of her to do this, isn’t it? it’s cruel she doesn’t greet him with a smile, a kiss, an i love you -- instead, they’re  strangers. (  her actions and lack of words say so, but her eyes say something completely different.  )    ❛  we should have bandaged it last night before bed.. ❜   bed? that’s an understatement.  alicia keeps her head ducked, fingers pressing at the pink skin around the wound. she doesn’t like the way it looks, but it could be swollen simply because of the fabric of the blankets against his bare skin or... because of other various activities. 

fortunately, she was able to attain some triple-antibiotic ointment, and she wastes no time in putting a dab of it on her finger, smearing it across his stitched wound.  ❛  we can stay here for another day or so. ❜   if it was anyone else she’d say to grow a pair and get going, but she doesn’t want him lifting and running around until it’s stable. it might not be a  horrid  stab wound, but a stab wound is a stab wound, nonetheless -- especially one to the abdomen.  ❛  -- are you hungry? we’ve got beans, and... beans, ❜   she offers up a small smile, chuckling with her last word.