LOVE/PARANOIA.

a drowning responsibility  —    the eyes of a daughter,   the eyes of a girlfriend,   the eyes of a best friend,   the eyes of a student.  gwen stacy is defined by extension,  buried under the weight of other people,   rarely ever herself.   sleepless nights under her vision,   eyelids heavy,    oceanic irises searching for truth in the honey hues of his.  [  in another world,  there’s no call to anything else,  no wonder as to why her peter parker comes back with a bruise he cannot explain,   a cut he cannot explain,    there’s no reason to worry    but he cannot explain it. ]   now they sit,  across a park bunch under the manhattan lights,  cold november air makes her thankful she’s clad in her mother’s favorite trench coat.   of all things,  she’d had to be sick on top of everything else.   a girl of science searches for facts  :  as true as she knows organic synthesis & biochemistry,   she wants the facts from peter parker.  her book bag against her leg,  her free hand tracing his palm likes  — (  callous one.   scar two.  she picks up on each new mark & wonders what fight club her boyfriend has joined in secrecy.  )    

  i’ll be okay, i’m always okay . peter parker for gwen stacy .    ♡   @versusmaim​ ​

❝   you don’t have to say that,  not to me.   i understand.  ❞      there’s more she can say,  as her own heart thuds for a second. [ he doesn’t have to pretend,  he’s so brave.   he’s so careful.  she loves him.  he’s pretending.  she loves him. ]     she pauses,  motions against his palm freezing.  gwen holds the moment,  the way his eyes twinkle in the stars,  the way he looks at her like they’ll never leave that park bench.  the way his lips turn as if he’ll say something,  anything    —   before she continues.   ❝  peter parker,  no one is always okay.    certainly not anyone i’ve ever known.   ❞   it’s a firm squeeze from her hand,  a reminder that they’re closer,  the space between the park bench inching away with each word.   he’s right there,   so close to being hers gwen can’t believe she’s managed to get him in one place for more than a moment’s notice.  ❝  say — you haven’t got a place to be any time soon, do you peter?  we could just stay here and watch the lights,  if you’d like?  ❞

and a moment it is, seconds dancing past as he finds his gaze wandering upon the blues of hers.   [ i should be out there, fighting, saving people. i have to be something that people need, someone that you need. do you love me, gwen?   let me do things, let me be spider-man, your spiderman. don’t make me tell you this secret, not ever. i know what comes after. ]   the earnest desire within her face to understand skips past his mind, taking seconds before turning his head to her direction. the look on her face is hauntingly beautiful, a sort of denial is present : a denial of tragedy?  …  she wears the look of hope on her face like this season’s latest and most deigned for piece, meanwhile he wears a certain despair like somethin’ he woke up in. no longer that peter parker she attended midtown science with. now, a ghost of who he was. now, he is spiderman, whether he likes it or not. an acceptance in his being, a softness at the blonde’s words. the girl he had always longed for : reaching out an arm of loving warmth, and whilst it was no longer an abnormal idea, bewildered is his expression : a half smile appears, bittersweet at her remark.  she’s kind, too good for this world.  too good for what happens to people. too good, like uncle ben. for once, a shared moment of tenderness occurs, and it’s almost magical. it had seemed like a pipe dream and a half, but with her, anything is possible.        “   yeah  —  i’d like that, gwen.   ”  

I’VE BEEN SLEEPING SO LONG IN A 20-YEAR DARK NIGHT, AND NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT, I ONLY SEE DAYLIGHT (YOU).

Now I know what it feels like, to wanna go outside