Between your head and heart, and somewhere else instead

The grocery bags grew heavier by the moment. You tried to shift the weight onto your hip, leaving one hand free to pat around your pockets. 

‘For fuck’s sake,’ you muttered under your breath as you felt nothing but old receipts and chapstick. You could only hope for your purse as a last resort. Putting the groceries down, you delved into the bag's compartments. The collection of everyday junk rattled around while your frustrations grew with each next item. You were ready to cry when you caught a glimpse of something. 

A scrap of pink fabric that could only be one of your many keychains. With an exclamation, you yanked it out from the bottom of your bag.

With some of the weight of the day slipping off your shoulders, you bent over to grab your abandoned groceries and were ready to put the key in the lock of your apartment building when everything went black.

…

Next thing you know, you awoke with a start on a couch that wasn’t yours.

How the hell did you get here?

▣ 20 minutes earlier ▣

Peter sat at his desk. Notebooks were splayed out all around him; crossed-out and rewritten formulas filled the pages, followed by diagrams and design sketches. On the screens in front of him was a mix of interests. He clicked away from a YouTube page to view his personal police radio. It’s been fairly quiet the last few hours, which only made him more fidgety. 

He entered a new formula, and the computer immediately started running trials, but Peter could already tell the result would come out suboptimal. 

‘Hey, E.V., let’s run that again, but could you—’

Then, his spell of concentration was broken with a knock on the door. 

His head shot up, eyes glaring in the direction of the door as if he was ready for it to burst open and off its hinges. The knock returned. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was soft with no sense of hurry, panic or anger. Still, Peter walked apprehensively across the room. It was moments like these that he cursed himself for not having a peephole. The only thing he could do was open the door and come face to face with whoever was standing on the other side.

He took off the chain lock and opened the door. To his surprise, the person standing in front of him was… a neighbour. A young woman he recognised from chance meetings in the elevator. From what he could remember, she lived on the 3rd floor… in other words, nowhere near his attic asbestos-filled bachelor pad. 

‘Hi,’ she chirped. ‘I was just wondering if you had some milk you’d be willing to lend out?’ It was only then that Peter noticed the measuring cup in her hands. 

‘Oh, uhm…’ That was about the last thing he expected. He didn’t even know people actually borrowed products from their neighbours like that. He just thought it was something that happened in really cheap porn. 

Yet, here she was. Standing at his door, smiling sheepishly, waiting for his response. 

‘I’ll have to check.’ He pointed back at his fridge. ‘Just a sec.’ He left the door ajar and walked to his “kitchen area”, which did not really consist of much more than a fridge, a microwave, a sink and a shelf of various protein powders and pre-workouts. In all honesty, he knew he had a carton of milk in the fridge. The question was only how many months it had been since it went bad. 

He sniffed the milk and, again, to his surprise, it actually did not smell too bad. Had he actually remembered to throw out the old milk and buy a new carton for once? 

‘How much do you need?’ He called out, turning to face the door, only to be met with yet another surprise: his neighbour was standing only a few steps away from him in his apartment. 

‘Just a cup should be enough,’ she said. ‘I wanted to make some pancakes but seemed to just run out—sorry, by the way, I hope you didn’t mind I kind of let myself in. I’ve just always been so curious as to how other people in the building… live.’ She said the last word a bit hesitantly. Was it the lack of furniture around them? The cobwebs and layers of dust? The boxes of stuff Peter hadn’t touched since he moved in months ago? Or was it his “murder wall” where he tracked his enemies? Either way, he could not imagine this was what she was expecting when she knocked on Peter’s door. 

He quickly glanced around to make sure his suit was nowhere in direct sight. Luck would have it, he had remembered to store it away after last night’s patrol. 

‘You’re still settling in, I suppose?’ She was kind enough to say after seeing the mess he was calling a home. 

‘Erm, you could say that, yeah.’ He said awkwardly, milk in hand. Remembering he still had it, he offered her the carton. She extended her arm out towards him, providing the measuring cup for him to fill. Once full, she smiled. 

‘Wow,’ but something had shifted, compared to how she looked when Peter had opened the door. The smile was now completely gone; it was replaced with a smirk. Her eyes were devoid of any pleasantness. ‘I can’t believe how easy that was.’

▣

‘Seriously, Peter? Are you just letting anyone in here?’ Jean chuckled. ‘I could have probably knocked on the door myself, and you’d welcome me with arms wide open.’

‘Jean.’ Peter stumbled back. Bewilderment spread over his face, colliding with features taken over by anger. Poor Spidey, must be so confused as to how she got hold of his neighbour. How she even knew where he lived. 

It probably would have been harder to steal candy from a baby. For someone being so paranoid over his secret identity, Peter Parker was incredibly easy to track. By just keeping her (and every person walking down the street) eyes up at the sky, Jean watched Peter around. Just to be sure, she took a few days to ensure he was returning to the same spot each time. Clever little spider, used different entry points. Sometimes through his window, sometimes the roof. Other times he would go into the little alley behind the building and change, before casually walking through the front door. 

By taking over the minds of people in the building directly opposite, Jean figured out where he lived in no time. And then when she saw that woman just standing at the door with her groceries, taking forever to get her damn keys, well, the opportunity presented itself so deliciously. Just a few quick jumps and she was in. 

All Jean wanted was to have a key into the building. A way to get to Peter Parker. Never had she expected the woman she chose to be so perfect for this role. Her attention was immediately drawn to a part of her brain that just YELLED “Peter”. 

No, not “Peter”. Just his face, for she did not actually know his name, did she? Poor Spidey was too afraid to make friends after all. He wouldn’t dare to talk to a pretty girl like that in the elevator. But it was enough for her to catch a little crush. Oh yes, teenie tiny feelings were developing in this woman’s mind, and well, Jean just couldn’t help herself. It had been so long since she had so much fun.

▣

Peter watched Jean stroll around his apartment.

Well, it wasn’t Jean, exactly. He had to remind himself of that. This was the body of his 3rd-floor neighbour, and she was still in there somewhere, only momentarily suppressed by this pesky girl. 

He watched her (them?) walk around, with no idea what to do. He wanted to fight, kick her out of his apartment, do something, but at any minute, Jean could jump back out. He wouldn’t ever let himself live it down if he hurt an innocent person. It had already come too close too many times. He just could not let it happen again. 

‘Get out of her, Jean,’ he practically growled, anger seeping into every part of his body. The people in this building had nothing to do with him. He had specifically done his best to keep it that way. He had moved into the god-forsaken attic to avoid small talk. He didn’t make eye contact in the elevator. And still, somehow, Jean managed to wrap someone up in this fucked up web of a mess. 

And it had to be her… 

It was pure chance that they used the elevator at the same time as often as they did. In the mornings, she was usually in her workout gear, going down to hit the gym while Peter was returning from a night of crime fighting. She would smile politely, and it was a smile that was hard to ignore. No matter how hard he tried.

‘You know,’ “Jean” spoke, completely ignoring Peter’s demand, ‘it’s always so funny to go into someone’s mind. You truly never know what you will find in there.’ She looked out the window, pointing a finger at the building on the opposite side of the street. ‘Like that guy, for example. You’d think he had it all, beautiful apartment, with a gorgeous wife and lovely kids, but no, he goes out every Friday to hook up with a girl on the other side of town.’ 

‘Or that guy,’ she pointed a little higher, to the apartment a few floors up, ‘is sooo totally a furry, even if he doesn’t dare to admit it, even to himself—’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Peter could not understand what the point of all of this was. Why was she here in his room, only to… what? Gossip about strangers?

‘Don’t you get it, Peter?’ She finally turned to look at him, a grin of disbelief stretching at her lips. ‘It’s just so fun to watch you get all railed up.’ She laughed lightly. ‘And I’m not the only one who thinks so.’ 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ This girl wasn’t making any sense. One day she tries to kill him by possessing his enemies, the next she sits down for a casual chat as his neighbour. Just when he didn’t think his head could hurt more, she made it pound in agony, just from her mere presence.

She left the window and walked up to him. Peter took a few steps back until his back hit the wall. 

‘For a smart kid, you can be so stupid.’ She said in a soft voice, hand trailing over his cheek. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he had talked to someone, touched someone. It had been so long since someone touched him that the simple stroke made his knees go weak. His mind rushed to all those times he saw her– his actual neighbour, not Jean– in the elevator. How often he had wanted to say something, but just never had the guts to. It wouldn’t be wise. He couldn’t even keep people safe that he barely knew, let alone those who knew him better, who knew what he did and the dangers behind it. He was looking into the eyes of a possessed woman, who had no idea what was happening to her body.

Just then, she came closer. Peter didn’t dare to move an inch. 

‘Let this be a lesson, Spidey.’ She whispered in his ear. The anger he felt for “Jean” was being subdued by the sweet sound of the voice with which she spoke. ‘Live a little.’ He could feel her body press against his. Coming closer and closer. 

This could not be happening. Absolutely not. 

Ever since Peter had gotten his powers, he had grown cautious of his movements, as the strength that the spider-bite gave him intensified everything he did. That meant that even the tiniest push, if he did not have enough self-control, could send someone across the room. It had taken him a long time to perfect his everyday movements to avoid accidents, to remember to stay gentle and in control.

Now was not a time for control.

He pushed the woman back with a force that practically hurled her through the room. However, what he did not notice was that another force pushed her body back even further and let her fall onto the couch.

▣

You woke up with a start.

Woke up... Is that right? You couldn’t remember ever falling asleep. The last thing you remembered was… was… was walking down the street. Yes, that’s right: you were walking back home. 

No, you had come home. You were getting the keys to the front door when— nothing.

You must have fallen asleep on the couch, blacking out from exhaustion.

Except, this wasn’t your couch. Or your apartment. You were sitting in a dingy old attic room, and ahead of you was a man. He was breathing heavily. Chest inflating widely with each inhale. His eyes were dark with… no, that was not normal pupil dilation. His entire eye sockets were devoid of colour. Pitch black. But as you were ready to scream, they turned back to normal. Like a switch in the man’s body had been turned, he physically turned smaller, less formidable. In fact, he looked scared himself. 

‘I know you,’ you managed to say. Your voice felt hoarse, weak. 

‘Yes, we live in the same building. We’ve met, in the elevator, a few times actually.’ He started stuttering. ‘I’m Peter.’ He leapt forward to extend his hand, but stopped when he noticed you cringed back in your seat. 

You had, in fact, met before. You had tried to start a polite conversation a few times. Still, he never seemed interested, or was far too shy to say anything, which, in all honesty, had added to his charm, in your opinion, but now you were questioning your judgement, because what in the fuck were you doing on his couch? 

He must have seen the panic-stricken look on your face, as he quickly started talking again: ‘I can explain— I mean, I can, but I don’t know how to explain it to make you believe me because this is crazy, but I don’t want you to think that I’m crazy.’ It might have been a bit too late for that, though.

‘Did you touch me?’ you dared to ask the question that was on your mind ever since you “woke up”. The colour left Peter’s face. 

‘No, god, no. I promise you, I did not do anything. No, no.’ But what could he possibly say or do to make you believe him? It was his word against a complete blackout of your memories of the last… how long has it been? Either way, it was best to stay calm. 

You could see him panicking, looking around until his eyes landed on his computer. ‘I can prove it actually.’ He walked towards his desk and leaned over the keyboard to type something in. From where you sat, you could just about see a new window pop up on the screen that seemed to be a live feed from a camera angled right at the centre of the room. 

‘You got security cameras in your own house?’ You asked as you got up to have a better look at what he was going to show you.

‘Uhm yeah… you know, for insurance purposes. In case an Avenger throws a car through the window or something.’ Perhaps a bit excessive, you understood the sentiment. A friend of yours was still looking for a new car since her old one got completely flattened by a loon in a rhinoceros costume. 

‘So… what happened to me?’ You pulled your jacket over yourself, feeling a shiver run up your body.

‘Well, to keep it short,’ Peter ran a hand through his hair, the other one placing the cursor on the feed timeline to a few minutes back, until he stopped at a shot of him sitting at his desk. You watched him walk to his door and open it, only to reveal yourself standing there. ‘You were, kind of, possessed?’

‘Possessed?’ If you had a drink, you would have spat it out in his face, but even if you had, maybe you would have been too focused staring at the recording of yourself. The quality of the camera wasn’t great, but the figure at the door was unmistakably you. You were smiling, looking perfectly normal. From the timestamp on the screen, this had only happened a few minutes ago, but you could not remember a thing about it. Possessed?! 

‘By a telepath.’ Peter explained as you watched on. ‘She can do this thing where she, like, jumps from body to body. Takes over for a bit before she dips and picks someone else to control.’ 

A telepath possessed your body? The information came at you like a freightcar. It was absolutely ridiculous. But the worst of all was that you were actually quite eager to believe Peter. Not only because you were actively watching yourself walk through his living room with no memory of ever doing so, but because this was New York City after all, where alien invasions were just another Wednesday afternoon, and you could casually bump into superheroes on your morning coffee run. So, yeah, a mind-controlling psycho wasn’t totally out of the question. Still, there was so much more you did not understand about all of this.

‘Why me?’ You asked, dumbfounded. You could now see yourself more clearly as “you” moved into the room. It was unmistakably your body, but seeing yourself from this angle, something felt off. The way “you” moved, it didn’t feel natural to you. It truly was like someone took over your limbs. The puzzle pieces were coming into place and, perhaps foolishly, as it did not change the situation at all, you felt your fear subsiding. It helped to see that Peter had calmed down as well. His grip on the mouse loosened. Though understandably freaked out like you, he still managed to explain the situation somewhat cohesively.

‘Jean, the telepath, she has it against me. She was trying to get into the building, to get to me.’

‘The last thing I can remember before this was putting my key in the front door.’ You remembered clearly now. The groceries, how you couldn’t find your keys—next thing you know, you’re in Peter’s apartment.

‘She must have seen it and just took the opportunity.’ Peter confirmed. You watched on as he narrated, ‘So, yeah, she knocked on the door asking to borrow a cup of milk.’

‘People actually do that?’ you raised a brow, thinking that was just something people did in cheap porno’s, but on the security feed, you did notice the empty measuring cup in your hands, and when you looked around, it was standing abandoned on the counter, now full of milk, just as Peter had poured it on the screen in front of you. 

‘I was confused,’ He smiled awkwardly, most likely having the same thought. ‘But, you know, I wanted to do the neighbourly thing. Then she walked in and revealed herself— her identity, that is!’ His eyes bulged at his wrong choice of words. ‘But yeah, she’s been provoking me for the past few weeks, and I think now she is just doing it for the fun of it,  and there isn’t much I can do about it.’

‘Damn, getting bullied by a telepath is a whole new level of bad luck.’ You couldn’t imagine the hell that must be, never knowing when someone you were talking to was actually themselves. 

Peter laughed slightly. ‘Yeah, I’m just sorry to get you involved in all of this. What she does is seriously messed up, I can’t imagine what it must be like to get your mind taken over like that.’

‘She’s never done it to you?’ That sparked another wave of interest inside you.

‘N-no, I’m kind of immune to it, I think, which is probably why she keeps doing this.’ He waved around to allude to the entire situation you found yourself in.

‘Try to get into your head in a different way…’ you thought out loud. There was a moment where your eyes met. He still had that nervous smile across his face, and you annoyed yourself that in a moment such as this you still could not help but think of how cute that smile was.

‘Ye- yeah. Basically.’ He replied before turning towards the computer screen and turning it off. You had seen enough, and one could only handle seeing themselves be possessed for so long. 

▣ 

‘I’m y/n, by the way.’ She cut the momentary silence and extended her hand for Peter to shake. He looked up, not exactly confused, but more so surprised. ‘I realised I hadn’t introduced myself yet,’ she clarified. 

‘Peter.’ He replied as he took her hand, only then realising that he had already told her his name before, but if she had noticed, she didn’t mention it. ‘Again, I’m really sorry about all of this.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she shrugged, which to Peter felt like a downplaying of the whole thing. She seemed so nonchalant about the whole mind-control thing. He was still making a conscious effort to get his heart rate to drop. What probably wasn’t helping his cause was the fact that she was standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume. Realising he started to grip the mouse tighter again, he dropped it. 

Another moment of silence arose, only to be broken again by her. ‘Well, I should be going, probably.’ 

‘Right. Yeah. Of course.’ Peter got up from his chair quickly. They walked side by side to the door. During those few short steps, all he wanted to do was apologise again, profusely, for everything that happened. A part of him also wanted to apologise for his thoughts. How he felt when she, well, Jean, touched him, and how he focused on her perfume when she was witnessing her own possession on his computer screen. It all felt incredibly wrong, and if he didn’t know better, he would wish to erase everything of the last half hour.

He opened the door, its hinges creaking only a little bit. She was about to walk out when Peter called out.

‘Don’t forget the milk.’ He then turned around to swiftly pick up the measuring cup for her. ‘For the pancakes.’ He presented it, somewhat proudly, but her face fell slightly glum.

‘Oh, that was all Jean. I’m actually lactose intolerant.’ 

‘Ah, right.’ Peter put the cup down. ‘I’ll clean that out for you then and bring it over later’ 

‘Thanks.’ She took the first few steps out of the corridor, and as if pulled in with some invisible force, Peter found himself following her up until the threshold. He watched her make her way through the corridor, some words at the tip of his tongue, but they were supposed to be, even he didn’t know.

Just before turning towards the elevator, she instead turned to face him again. ‘It was nice to finally meet you, Peter.’ And all of a sudden, Peter felt as if he was possessed himself, as if his whole body was frozen. A dozen different responses fought to escape his mouth, but none made it out. All he could manage to do was to wave her way with a tight-lipped smile. Only once she disappeared into the elevator did Peter let himself slump his head against the doorframe. 

‘Stupid.’

▣ 3 weeks later ▣ 

‘Shit,’ Peter cursed as he looked for the right key. The rain was pouring down hard on him, soaking through all the layers of clothing. He stood underneath the small roof ahead of the entrance, but droplets kept falling from the curls on his forehead directly into his eyes. The water kept blurring his vision, making it almost impossible to distinguish the individual keys from one another. He was about to say screw it and zip himself up to his floor and slide through the window that he, stupidly, but luckily, left open, when a familiar voice came from behind him.

‘Here, let me.’

He turned his head to be met with a red umbrella. Underneath was y/n. She had her keys in her hand and excused herself to get past Peter towards the lock. 

‘Thanks.’ In return, he held the door open so she could enter first. As she walked by him, Peter could smell her perfume, even with the rain dulling all the senses. The sweet scent was as strong as when she had been leaning over him at his desk. 

He had been doing his best to forget all that happened when she appeared at his front door. Thinking of it made him want to kick himself for having been so sloppy. He had made it so easy for Jean, then still on her vengeful road, to find him. He had put everyone in this building at risk, and let y/n be taken advantage of. This couldn’t happen again.

While she stayed at the door to shake the water off the umbrella, Peter shook out all the thoughts the perfume brought up and walked over to the elevator to call it down. Luck would have it that the doors immediately opened.

The two of them walked inside and pressed their respective floor numbers.

‘Did you resolve your telepath problem?’ Her voice nearly made Peter jump.

‘Y-yeah,’ he looked down at the keys in his hands, fidgeting with them between his fingers. ‘We talked it out.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ She looked his way, most likely expecting to hear something more about it, or anything, really, but Peter’s throat dried out, and he had no idea what to say. With the silence taking over, they both looked at the numbers above the elevator door as it hit 3. The door opened, and she got out, but not before saying: 

‘See you around, Peter.’ 

‘See ya,’ he smiled. She walked away. Was that disappointment that he saw on her profile as she walked?

Suddenly, a whole new sense was taking over his body. As if, out of nowhere, he knew exactly what to do. The elevator was about to close when Peter quickly put his hand in between to stop it. He jumped out, making her slightly jump in the process.

‘You alright?’ She looked at him with a hint of concern, but Peter didn’t respond to this. He knew exactly what to say, and he had the feeling that if he strayed from the script, that it would all be a lost cause. 

He took a deep breath. 

Jean, as annoying and extremely irresponsible as she was in her methods, did make him realise something. All this time he had been so busy thinking about the what-ifs, the worst-case scenarios, that he completely forgot to actually pay attention to the real world. He had been so blind to the people around him, but also to his own feelings. He had spent so much time saving lives that he started missing out on actually living. 

‘Would you like to grab a coffee together sometime?’ 

Her face lit up at the sound of the question. 

‘I’d really like that.’ 

‘Okay, cool. How about this Saturday?’ Peter finally felt like his words were coming naturally to him. 

‘Sounds great. I’ll see you then.’ They slowly started separating into their own directions, she to her apartment, Peter back to the elevator. He was about to press the button to recall the lift when she called out to him from across the hallway:

‘And don’t forget to give me my measuring cup back!’

‘Right. Sorry!’ 

The End.

Thank you so much for reading <3

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