Spiderman

At first, you and Peter were amazing for each other. You two made each other nervous, but in all the right, good ways. You could tell each other your secrets, such as the fact that he's Spiderman; something he told no one.

"It's like my friends don't know me," Was how he explained the secret.

Then, you two started changing. It was subtle at first, only causing small disagreements, but then the changes started getting bigger. He started getting more reclusive, which started causing bigger fractures in your relationship. You started having bigger arguments, and they started getting more hurtful from both sides.

One night, it just got to be too much. You two were at a party, trying to bond with each other, but that chemistry wasn't the same. It felt, at least from your side, like you were the only one trying to hold a conversation, so you went outside with him, a frustrated silence enveloping you both. You were on the sidewalk, and suddenly the silence just got to be too much, and you snapped at him.

"It feels like we're not even on the same page no more." You snapped.

"I know. And that's a shame we ain't, when we used to be so close." He murmured, pressing his lips into a thin line in both anguish and frustration.

You two broke up that night after getting lost in the heat of the moment, lost in the heat of the argument. And suddenly, he was lonely; finally reclusive. But that silence felt empty. He still could hear the distant memories of your voice; when he'd do small things you would've scolded him for, he could still hear the mini lectures you'd give him. It was a bittersweet pain.

Finally, after months of being silent to the world as Peter Parker, he decided he'd go out as himself. Not as Spiderman.

He figured he'd just go to a low-key party. But, of course, so did you.

The second he saw you, he was hiding in crowds to avoid you seeing him, to avoid you leaving the proximity; because as much as he hated it, he didn't want to be haunted by anyone else's soul.

Eventually, you saw him. You two met each other's eyes from across the room. And to his surprise, you were willing to talk to him.

It was sweet at first.

"I miss you." You murmured, giving him a small side hug.

But after the last interaction with you, Peter couldn't bring himself to keep it a normal, sweet conversation; he couldn't allow it to just be small talk after the hurt the breakup caused for him.

"You don't miss me, babe, don't know why you're tryin' to convince me, babe. Know there's been somebody else since me, babe." He muttered, though he returned your hug, even if it hurt that it was just a side hug, as if you two were just strangers.

"How you figure?" You say, pretending you don't know what he's talking about because the guy he's referencing and you broke up.

"Girl, I seen you around here with him. Trust me, I heard a lot about him."

"Oh... well, I'm not with him anymore, so... uh... yeah." You murmur and begin walking towards the front door, desperately needing to exit the party.

He follows, though; he does it in silence. He doesn't speak until you both are back on that same sidewalk, the one you broke up with him on.

"Do you remember that night? Left me here, three in the morning, questioning all the things you told me." He whispers, his voice shaky but sincere, yet vulnerable, and desperately seeking a connection with you. He scrunches his hands into fists at his sides, then loosens them again; something he used to always do when he wanted to hold you or to touch you. "You got lost in the heat of the moment. Baby, if you meant it, that you're missing me, then show it. And if you ever need it, or want it, I got you; you know this. If you ever home alone and need a little company, I'll swing right over. We could stop, we could rewind. Would you call in the meantime? Would you come with me tonight? All the stories we could rewrite."