Chapter Text
She wakes up to the sound of sirens.
They’re loud and pierce through her deep sleep, but when she cracks an eye open, a soft groan escaping, she relaxes upon realizing that it’s only coming from the television that they’d left on all night, the morning news broadcasted across the screen. The sirens mean that the police are already on it, that there’s no need for Spider-Man right now, that he doesn’t have to leave.
Michelle shifts further under the covers, feeling stiff and uncomfortable, probably due to the fact that she and Peter had fallen asleep stuffed on a small twin bed.
Turning her face halfway into the pillow, she finds herself staring at him, notices how even while he’s sleeping, there’s still that wrinkle between his brow. His left arm is tucked underneath the pillow and his other is haphazardly flung across her lower back. She wants to wake him up just to get out of bed, but it’s chilly and she’s warm where they are.
She almost falls back to sleep, right on the brink of drifting off again, but then she hears him yawn quietly. She opens her eyes again, finds him cracking his own open and blinking sleepily at her. Neither of them react.
“Morning, MJ,” he finally says, soft and yet his voice is still rough from sleep. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Not really.” Michelle doesn’t mention how hard it was to fall asleep last night until her eyelids were physically too heavy to keep open. She knows it was simply because he was still there, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how hard it’ll be when he won’t be. “What about you?”
“Not really,” Peter echoes with a slight smile, retracting his arm from around her without even mentioning it. “Nice morning, though.”
“Is it? I’m too young for my back to hurt like this.”
He snorts out a laugh, his eyes still on her with an expression that makes Michelle wonder if he’s happy when she’s the first thing he sees in the morning. He blinks and they shine, and he tucks a curl behind her ear.
But before either of them can do anything else, the sound of a door slamming can be heard in the apartment. They immediately both sit up, Peter’s eyes widening, and then it’s suddenly the bedroom door that’s opening.
The woman is on her phone, headphones in and music loud enough that Michelle can hear the cymbals crashing from where she is. Her head is bobbing up and down for a moment, but then she looks up and stumbles backwards a little into the luggage she was lugging behind. “Oh—my god?”
“What the—Gwen? What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” she says slowly, tucking her headphones around her neck. “If we want to get into specifics, this is my room...unless you’ve leased the place and kicked me out. Is that what’s happening here?”
“God, no, we’re just...chilling.”
“I can see that. Chilling.” She scans them up and down, her gaze scrutinizing. “Okay. Well. I’d ask what you’re doing in my room, but then we’d have to get into why you’re in my bed and I’m not sure if I want to know the details—”
“No, no, no,” Michelle quickly intervenes with an awkward laugh. “No, this is not what you think. Peter and I were really just...chilling. Casually. As he said.”
Gwen’s eyebrows lift in amusement, her eyes flickering over to scan his body—a body that still lacks proper clothing from the previous night after he’d stripped himself of his suit. It’s fair that she’s skeptical. “I mean, sure. As long as he does my laundry, bedsheets, and all that, I honestly don’t even care.”
“Okay. Cool.” He nods, chewing his lower lip, exchanging a look with Michelle before finally spotting the elephant in the room. His suit is still on the floor, though it’s a little late to try hiding anything at this point. “Oh—um, hey. Heeey. Gwen. Do you think you could just—”
“Do you want me to avert my eyes from the glaringly red and black Spider-Man suit lying in front of my feet, or…” She cocks a brow, and he laughs nervously. “Try me, Pete. What were you going to say?”
“I, uh...I wasn’t...I was just—sometimes, there are these conventions, you see—”
“Oh, you mean those conventions.” Gwen nods, rubbing her lips together before looking at Michelle. “He means the ones that typically occur in Times Square, and it’s like a party because there are people dressed as vultures, scorpions, big rhinos. The usual. Right?”
“How long have you known?” Peter sighs.
“Funny you should ask. Harry and I—”
“Harry knows too?”
“Of course he does.” She gives him a look that reads ‘how could he not?’ “We’ve made a bet to see how long you’d think you would be able to keep your identity a secret from us. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long, to be honest, but good on you, Pete.”
“Wow, have you ever actually told anyone because you wanted to tell them?” Michelle asks him, looking over her shoulder, and he groans, dropping his head. She can feel his curls brushing against the back of her neck. “Look on the bright side. At least the whole world doesn’t know. You must be doing something right.”
“Your confidence in me is astounding,” he sighs, exaggerated, and she stifles her reluctant smile. “By the way, Gwen...this is my, uh...my friend. Michelle.”
“Well, circumstances aside, it is the loveliest to meet you, Michelle,” Gwen hums, sticking out a hand to shake, her bracelets jingling. She clasps her palm warmly, figuring she’ll get along just fine with Peter’s roommate.
“You can call me MJ. It’s nice to meet you too,” Michelle says with a small smile, though Gwen’s reaction to that is not nearly the same as it was when Peter introduced her. It turns into a shit-eating grin.
“MJ, huh? Well, well, well, Petey. It’s about time you finally brought your best friend home and introduced her to me.” She looks past her shoulder at Peter, mouthing something that Michelle can’t decipher. When she twists her head, she sees his face is beet-red. “I’ve heard so much about you, MJ.”
“Gwen,” Peter says, pained.
“You’ve talked about me, Parker?” Michelle hums, smiling a little, and he flushes. Even though they hadn’t kept in touch, something in her flutters at the idea that he still brought her up to his new friends. “All good things, I hope.”
“As if there’s anything bad to say about you,” he counters, poking her in the side, and it’s her turn to get warm in the face. He’s lying to appease her, it’s whatever. “Gwen, you want us to get out of your hair? We can just—”
“Nah, you two do your thing, and I’m gonna run to the store to grab some food. Gosh, every time I come home, it’s like the fridge is as bare as can be,” Gwen says, the last part more to herself than anything. When she gives one more significant look at Peter before leaving the room, Michelle turns to him.
“Peter—”
“Em—”
“Oh, you first,” she tells him quietly, noting the way he’s looking at her, but he shakes his head and says it right back. She doesn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay. Um, well. This didn’t occur to me earlier, but if Gwen’s back...she’s gonna want her room.”
“Okay,” he says slowly as if he doesn’t know what she’s getting at. “Well, neither of us really expected she’d be back early, for whatever reason, so—”
“So I should—I should probably give her the room back. I should...head home to my father’s apartment.” Michelle hears nothing but silence after the suggestion drops, Peter swallowing. She’d be leaving him a few days earlier than planned. “And, hey, maybe it’ll make it easier on us if we’re not so...attached at the hip...when we have to say goodbye.”
“Oh.” His voice goes quiet, reluctant, and he wets his lips. “I mean, I—you don’t have to...if you don’t want to? There’s still Harry’s room, or even the couch? You don’t have to go to an empty place.”
Michelle blinks, her smile watery. “I think it would be for the best, Peter.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so,” he eventually says after a minute, nodding a little too vigorously. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Everything we do is always for the best, huh. I’ll help you...pack your stuff.”
“What did you want to tell me?”
Peter shakes his head, and his eyes don’t match the barely-there smile on his lips. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You guys really made a mess of the place,” Gwen comments offhandedly, unpacking groceries, while Michelle is gathering her things from around the living room. There’s still the splotch of webbing on the fridge they need to clean off. “Not that I’m mad. Harry’s the neat freak around here.”
“Everyone’s gotta have one,” Michelle replies, distracted. She’s trying her best to keep her mind off what’s actually happening by focusing on what’s not happening. She can’t find her other shoe. It feels so insignificant, but she can’t leave without her other shoe.
“What are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you packing?” Gwen stops forcefully shoving food into the fridge to pause and look over, brows furrowed. It’s just them in the apartment at the moment, Peter having had to run out as Spider-Man to help with a small building fire.
“Uh, yeah.” Michelle hesitates, straightening up and rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, I figured that I’d get out of your hair, let you have your room back. I didn’t—it was a last minute idea, me staying here. Peter was just being kind.”
“Oh, no, I don’t mind if you stay. Seriously, I mean, from all that Peter’s told me about you, I have to assume he’s thrilled that you’re here.”
“What...has he told you about me?”
Gwen shrugs, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Just little things I’ve picked up on, really. I know in general that you’re one of his best friends. Sometimes he makes remarks about how ‘oh, MJ would’ve loved this’ or ‘oh, MJ would’ve hated that’. I figured you guys are close.”
“I’ve known him for ages, yeah.” Michelle swallows, feeling a bubble of emotion well up in her throat. Her voice comes out weak and quiet. “But I just—I shouldn’t stay any longer.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t press further, but her lips are pursed in concern.
Michelle turns back to her bag, seeing it almost all packed with nothing folded. She’ll just be lugging it a few blocks, anyway, so what does it even matter. Her breath is shaky when she inhales again. “Out of curiosity, what brought you back home early?”
“It’s a funny story,” Gwen mutters, sitting on top of the island counter and bringing a knee up to rest her cheek against. “Picture this. Me, an old flame, and a restaurant bathroom. It’s the holidays and I’m with my family, and the last thing I need to think about is...well. Her. Apparently, she’s my, uh. My soulmate.”
“Your soulmate?” Michelle’s voice comes out winded.
“Time froze, which...you know, it’s weird. I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, this is the first time we’ve hooked up since, well...we’ve turned eighteen. We had a few flings in high school.” Gwen pauses, exhaling an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sure you don’t care about my love life, so I’ll stop while I’m ahead.”
“No, it’s...it’s fine. You can tell me if you’d like,” she offers softly, curious now.
“Okay. I, uh, I don’t really know. I guess I never expected her to be my soulmate, but it makes sense,” Gwen says with a short breath, jumping off the counter. She comes over to sit on the arm of the couch. “It really does. But I came home early because I just needed some time to process it.”
Michelle nods, understanding this to an unreasonable extent. “That’s fair. I mean, the universe choosing who you get to be with is just...fucked up.”
“I don’t see it like that, but it’s a lot, y’know? I’ll probably call her within a day or two.” She has this wistful look on her face that Michelle doesn’t quite understand, but she doesn’t question it further.
Before Michelle can comment about anything else on the matter, the apartment window opens and Peter stumbles inside, suit covered in soot, but he seems alright. She still goes over and waits as he takes off his mask, seeing the tired smile cracked across his face.
“Got everyone out okay. The house is in shambles, but you can’t save everything,” he says, and she nods, her heart beating in undeniable relief. Her expression must be questioning enough because he grazes the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. “I’m good.”
“Pfft. I’m glad that you’re good. Never doubted it. Or you.” Michelle’s rambling now, running her tongue, and he gives her a weird look but laughs a little anyway. She feels incredibly warm. It’s hot in there. “I’m almost...I think I’m almost done with packing. Just a few more things.”
“Oh.” He nods, swallowing, looking down at the mask in his hands. “I’m gonna, um, get changed and then I’ll help you, I guess. If you need it.”
Michelle doesn’t have the chance to say yes or no before he darts into the bedroom, door shutting behind him. The pictures shake just a little on the wall. She snaps her mouth shut, red in the face, turning back towards Gwen who just watched the whole exchange.
“You guys,” she exhales, snapping a carrot.
“What about us?”
“It’s just...interesting to me, I guess. Best friends and all that.” Gwen smiles slightly, shaking her head. “I feel like you’re more complicated than that, but it’s not my business. I won’t ask.”
“You can...ask, if you want,” Michelle eventually says, her voice barely above a whisper, but Gwen looks at her anyway with a tentative expression, like she doesn’t want to push too far. They’ve only just met each other, after all.
“What’s up with you and Pete, then? I mean, I know his friends. Well, his friend, singular, besides Harry and I. I’ve only met Ned, I’ve met his aunt.” She purses her lips. “I’ve never met you before, and I’m just very curious why that is.”
“I go to college in Boston.”
“That’s not too long of a drive. You’ve never visited?”
“It’s hard, you know? To get time to visit.” Michelle’s lying—Gwen can tell that she’s lying. She isn’t sure why it’s so hard to admit the truth even when she said she’d give it if asked. Maybe it’s because he’s just in the other room. “I guess we’ve just been...avoiding each other for a while.”
Gwen nods, albeit slightly confused, which is fair. “Oh, I’m sorry—”
“I know he’s never really talked about it, but we’re, uh...we’re soulmates too,” Michelle finally blurts out, interrupting Gwen, and her eyes widen slightly. But it feels good to tell someone whose opinion is unbiased. “We’re soulmates, and it just...ruined a lot for us.”
“I never...he’s never said anything about having a soulmate before. I just figured he’d never found his yet, but…” She trails off, expression softening just a bit, like she can see where she’s coming from. “It doesn’t seem to have ruined anything too badly. You both look as close as can be.”
“Well. I’m leaving, Gwen. I don’t have any plans to come back in the near future. This,” Michelle says, gesturing around. “Was temporary. I don’t know what we were thinking, or if we were thinking, but it’s not—it can’t last like this.”
“Michelle...why is it so bad that you guys are soulmates?” Gwen asks, gentle, because her eyes are starting to burn again. Her throat is thick with emotion.
“I want it to be real.” A strand of hair falls in her face, and she doesn’t tuck it back, a tear dropping onto the rug beneath her feet. “And I just—I can’t stand the possibility of any of this not being real at all.”
“Does it matter if it’s real...if he makes you happy?”
Michelle swallows the lump in her throat, seeing his bedroom door crack open in her peripheral vision. He steps out, and she thinks it’s safe to say he’s heard her if the watery look in his eyes is any indication. She turns to Gwen and her voice catches when she says, “Can you just...take care of him? When I’m gone.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for these past few years?” Gwen replies, a half-smile on her face. It’s not pitying, but she clearly feels for them. Maybe that hurts more. “But MJ—”
“I just need to find my other shoe, and then I’ll leave.” She turns around, pushing a shaky hand through her hair. “For god’s sake, I don’t know—I can’t remember where the hell I put it. I can’t—”
“I have it.” Peter holds it in one his hands, squeezing the sole hard enough that it could break. She inhales sharply, wiping her face dry with the back of her hand as he approaches. “It...was in my room. Here.”
“Thanks,” Michelle says lamely, quietly, dropping it in her bag when he hands it to her. She’ll zip it up later. “I, uh…”
“Em…”
“Can I just—”
“Yeah,” Peter finishes with a sharp breath, pulling her into his arms, and she feels her chest heave as she closes her eyes. One of his hands tangles in her hair while the other is wrapped around her waist. They sway in place a little, both of them leaning their weight on the other and neither of them speaking.
It takes a moment or two, Michelle being the first to pull away, her hair sticking to her damp face, and the smile she gives him is feeble at best. His hand hesitates and then brushes the wetness away this time, lingering against her skin, tracing her cheekbone, before he drops it.
The minute she looks down, breaks their gaze, that’s when the weight of it all really hits her. It feels worse than she’d thought it would.
When she bends down to grab her bag, he turns back towards the bedroom, and when she walks over to open the apartment door, he closes his, the click of the lock the only sound she can hear.
Neither of them said goodbye.
It’s hard, still being in New York. It’s even harder being in an empty apartment that’s not even a few blocks away from his. She doesn’t actively think about the fact, but sometimes it hits her when she’s eating dinner alone or when she’s watching the news in the living room with the lights dimmed.
Spider-Man is becoming more active, throwing himself into more patrols, and she has to turn off the television when she hears a news anchor talk about another armed robbery or a small explosion. Her phone is always handy, but it doesn’t ring. Not that she expects it to.
She knew the moment that she left the apartment, it wouldn’t matter how many more days she would be in the city. That door of communication has closed, but their chapter doesn’t end until she gets in the car, drives back to her dorm in Massachusetts, and tries to move on.
Michelle dumps her microwave dinner in the trash and thinks about the recipe he had given her for the pad thai he’d made. She’s never going to make it, knows it wouldn’t taste nearly as good.
Settling back on the couch, she finds herself staring at the blank television screen for much too long, massaging her temples because her head hurts far too often. She could blame her early hours and late nights, or she could blame the overworking of her brain, or she could simply blame it on the absence of him because that’s what’s causing all of it, anyway.
But this time, she thinks it’s simply her fault and her fault alone, hurting the way she is—whether it be her head or her heart. Even if they made the decision together, she left and he stayed.
Michelle falls asleep with the television on, right as Spider-Man shows up on the news, getting pummeled by a sandman. The police have to step in, get him to safety—he’s off his game and needs help—but she misses it, waking up to the weather broadcast and not knowing any different.
She’ll be leaving the next day to go back to Boston, and the prospect feels like a stone in her stomach. It’ll be a quick and silent leave. All of her things are packed, anyway, and she’s already said her goodbyes. Mostly.
Just as she’s making herself a bowl of cereal, scrolling aimlessly on her phone for dinner recipes for one, she gets a call. She hesitates, her heart skipping a beat, but she answers anyway.
“Peter?”
“It’s Gwen, actually—”
“What happened? Is he okay?” She takes the split-second of silence to fret, pulling up the newsfeed. There are no trending stories of Spider-Man being fatally wounded. “Why do you have his phone?”
“Don’t worry, he’s fine. Got into a little tussle last night with some sand dude but all that’s really wounded is his ego since the police needed to step in. That’s not why I called, actually.” Gwen hesitates for a beat. “Do you think I could come over for a bit? I’m only using his phone because I don’t have your number.”
“Oh. If you want to. You’d have to do it today. I’m leaving tomorrow,” Michelle says, stirring her dry cereal.
“Okay, cool, cool. Just send the address, I’ll be over around noon,” Gwen says, but before she can hang up, Michelle asks about Peter again, if he’s around. “He just stepped out for a bit. Said he needed to clear his head.”
“Is he okay?” she repeats, quieter.
“He…” Gwen pauses, her voice softening. “I think you already know the answer, MJ. And I’m not saying this to be cruel. You guys are doing what you think is necessary, even if it’s...”
Michelle runs a tired hand over her jaw, saying, “What is it?”
“I think you already know the answer to that, too,” she says gently, and then there’s a beat of silence on both ends before she continues. “I’ll see you soon.”
She’s left with the sound of dial tone soon thereafter.
“Nice place.”
“It’s pretty empty and...cold,” Michelle replies with a half-smile, gesturing for them to sit down at the table. She makes Gwen a cup of tea but none for herself, still unsure of why she’s there in the first place. “So. What, uh, did you want to talk about?”
“Nothing in particular, if I’m being honest. I just wanted to come over in case you needed a friend,” Gwen hums simply, and it makes Michelle huff out a quiet breath as she looks down at the table. “Of course, I can leave just as easily, but I’ve had my fair share of breakups. I’ve got two shoulders to cry on if you wanted to borrow one.”
“We...it’s not a breakup,” she says in response, hearing the shakiness to hear own laugh, because no. They didn’t even get that far. If she lets herself think about what-if’s, she’ll wonder where they’d be now if they had never kissed, or if it would have even made a difference.
“Sure feels like one though, huh? Or even worse, maybe.” Gwen’s expression is purely empathetic, and it makes Michelle wonder how many times she’s done this—specifically, if she’s already done this with him. “We don’t have to talk about it. Or, we can if that’ll make you feel better.”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Michelle echoes, getting herself a cup of tea now and seeing Gwen’s nod in her peripheral vision. “Could we actually talk about you? If you don’t mind.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything.” Michelle sits down with a tentative smile on her face, knowing it doesn’t really matter as long as it takes her mind off things.
Gwen says that that’s a broad topic, but she mentions her home life, her family. She has a dad in the police force, a brother in the army. She talks about the band she’s in the process of forming, her best friend Miles, her hookup turned soulmate—doesn’t bring up the soulmate part though.
It’s a nice distraction, Michelle thinks, and she almost feels bad for asking Gwen to tell her all of this information just so she doesn’t have to think about her own problems. But she also likes hearing about her life, and if she weren’t leaving, she figures they’d probably become very close friends.
“I’m not kidding,” Gwen laughs, nudging her foot under the table as she peels an orange in her hand, offering Michelle a slice. “We sounded terrible. You’d think that with all these people who grew up playing instruments, we’d be able to harmonize.”
“Sounds like a blast though. If you ever have a show,” she begins to say, not thinking, but then trails off when it hits her again. “Who knows. Maybe one day in the distant future, I’ll come see one.”
Gwen’s expression is wry as she folds her hands together. “It doesn’t have to be that distant. You could...always come back to New York to watch us practice. We try a few times a month.”
“Oh.” Michelle quirks her lips slightly, feeling something in her sink. “Is...is that why you came over, then? To, like...convince me to come back more?”
“If I’m being honest?” She scrubs a hand over her jaw, hesitant. “Initially, yeah. I thought I’d come over for his sake, maybe try to plead some sort of case, but I know—I know it’s not easy for you either. Like I said...I thought you could use a friend. I came for him but I’m here for you too.”
“I mean...thanks. It was a nice distraction, at least,” she says with a barely audible chuckle, shaking her head. “I just don’t think you’re gonna make much of an argument that I haven’t already thought of.”
“Why does it have to be for a reason? Why can’t it just be because you want to? I mean, it’s your life, MJ.” Gwen’s fingers tap sporadically against the table. “And it shouldn’t matter what fate has to say about it.”
Michelle inhales sharply, folding her lips inward. “But it’s not just my decision. Peter and I...we both agreed that this is for the best, and we’ve thought this way since we were kids.”
“Except some people start to become more important than the opinions that don’t hold as much value anymore.” She gnaws on the inside of her cheek, eyes imploring. “By ignoring him, the signs, everything, you’re still letting the universe dictate your life. You know that, right?”
“We simply cannot win,” Michelle says with a shaky laugh, looking down. She knows Gwen has a point but it’s the idea of not being able to choose that person herself that has her reluctant.
“Goddammit, Michelle, yes—you can. And I’m saying this as an outsider, not as someone who wants my friends to be happy.” Gwen takes a deep breath, massaging her temple. “You’re both so stubborn. You keep saying none of what you have is real, but it is real if you just let it be. Being soulmates is not the end of the world.”
“Well.” When time stopped, it sure felt like it was. It felt like everything they’d built up until that point suddenly meant nothing, a rug getting swept out from under their feet.
“No, not ‘well’. Have you ever seen soulmates that met as strangers? Do you ever wonder why they’re assigned at eighteen instead of at birth?” she asks challengingly. “I have a theory, okay? And that is...the universe doesn’t just assign soulmates at random. It gives you time, lets you build relationships and feelings and everything—every little thing that you do feel, that’s all you.”
Michelle swallows thickly, knowing she’s never thought about the logic behind soulmates—figuring there was nothing sensible about them. The idea of how soulmates were chosen, or created, has crossed her mind, but no one knew for sure. It’s not in textbooks, it’s not taught.
“I’ve...never thought about it that way.” How every single person who has a soulmate, it’s with someone they’re already close with or had known at one point. There’s always a history there.
“The soulmate shit is just a little nudge, but hell, if you act like it doesn’t exist, nothing will change. I promise you, MJ, the universe does not control you like you think it does. Not if you don’t let it,” Gwen tells her softly, lips curving in a small, reassuring smile.
“It’s…it’s just hard, you know? To stop thinking about something in the same way you have for so long,” Michelle admits with a shaky exhale but then she thinks about him, wonders how much happier they’d be if they just let that stigma go. She thought the past two weeks were as good as they were going to get. She thought they’d hit the end. “I don’t even know if he...would want—”
“If he had to choose between avoiding a...concept or picking you, do you really think it would be a hard decision?” Gwen rolls her eyes. “It’s not the same as it was before you guys lost each other to the, uh, universe? Which, you know, is embarrassing if you think about it.”
“Ha, ha. Way to make us sound—”
“You are,” she interrupts with a laugh, knowing whatever she was going to say was true, and Michelle has to snort. “But no, really, you realize how much someone means to you when you lose them. So, talking to each other is probably a step in the right direction.”
“Yeah, um. You’re right.” Michele fiddles with her sleeves, a tentative smile overtaking her face. At the very least, Peter and her could talk things out. At the very least, they could remain friends. “Do you think I could, uh, head back to the apartment with you?”
Gwen merely beams, making a sweeping gesture with her arm. “Lead the way, my girl.”
The apartment is empty when she cracks the door open.
Michelle lets herself inside after Gwen. She does have time to kill before her drive back home in a few hours, but she doesn’t know if she wants to spend it in an empty apartment, just waiting for him to get back. She doesn’t like waiting.
“Okay, well, we can’t call him because I still have his phone,” Gwen sighs, taking it out of her pocket and putting it on the counter. “Maybe shout from the rooftops for Spider-Man? Does he respond to, like, a bat-signal? Spider-signal?”
“I’m sure that’s just the nerdy type of thing he’d appreciate,” Michelle huffs, cracking a smile but it quickly drops. She glances at her watch before running a hand through her hair. “Do you think you’d want to stay here and I could run down by the entrance?”
“Oh, you think he’s not going to come in through the window.”
“Who knows at this point. But text me if he does. You do have my number now,” she says, catching Gwen’s smirk, before letting the door close behind her. After heading down in the elevator, she finds herself lingering near the exit, staring out the window as the snow starts to fall, people walking by on the sidewalk and the sun dancing across the horizon line.
But it’s almost funny, the way Michelle doesn’t have to wait for long, her phone dinging with a text that says he was spotted swinging towards the building, towards the window, his favorite thing to do. She heaves a tired sigh and gets back in the elevator, the prolonged wait time fueling her impatience. If she hits the button more than once, it’s no one's business.
When she finally makes it to the apartment once more, Gwen swings the door open this time with an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry, I, uh—I think he went back downstairs? To the...lobby.”
“What? Gwen, I just came from the lobby,” Michelle reminds her, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You told me he was coming in.”
“I thought he was! But he stopped on the fire escape and I think he saw you through the window before I could say anything.”
“Should I go back down then?” she deadpans.
“Why don’t you guys just...meet on the roof? A neutral area.”
“Where the snow is falling and it’s freezing? Love that for me.” Michelle cracks a small smile at Gwen’s laugh, flipping her off as she’s shooed away into the stairwell that leads to the roof. She rubs her hands up and down her arms, her breath fogging in the cold air.
“MJ?” His voice carries through the whistling wind faster than he can swing to the roof, landing on two feet and stumbling a few more. He nearly crashes into her, and she has to brace herself before he can knock her over. “Hey—hi, sorry.”
“Hey.” She glances around before pulling his mask off, the wind already whipping his hair loose. Her lips inadvertently curl into a small smile, cheeks warm despite the cold. “Hi. Apology accepted.”
“I’ve been...looking for you,” Peter continues, a little breathless, eyes glassy. “And Gwen said you were up here. Are you...what time are you leaving today?”
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Michelle says softly, and he nods, his palms sliding down her arms and linking with her hands. “I’ve been looking for you, too. I wanted to talk to you actually—”
“Wait, before you say anything. I just…” He inhales sharply, looking away, towards the setting sun instead. “Before I end up changing my mind again—earlier, I was...I was gonna tell you this thing and then I thought, ‘well, it seems like you’ve already made up your mind’ but I’m going to—I want to tell you anyway. And I know it probably won’t make a difference or change anything, and we can brush it off because who knows if it’s even real—”
“Peter,” she interrupts with a quiet laugh, and he snaps his mouth shut, expression wild, a little manic, as if not getting this out into the space between them will result in catastrophe. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Keep going.”
“Actually. You, uh, you can go first.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, gesturing for her to start talking. His nervousness is prominent, and it’s making hers even more so. She just wants to know what he’s thinking. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh. Uh, well.” Michelle hesitates. “Gwen, she, uh—she came to talk to me—”
“She did? What...what about?”
“Well, it might’ve been a pity visit,” she tentatively says with a half-laugh. “But she talked about her family, for one. Her band. She brought up the idea of me coming back to see her practices but…”
“But you won’t. You’re leaving,” Peter says, maybe as a reminder to her or a reminder to himself. His smile remains barely there and the little bit that is visible seems more sad than anything. It feels like a cycle of emotions they go through, sad, then happy, and then back to fucking miserable.
Michelle just wants the cycle to end.
“What if...we’re making a mistake here?” She shifts from one foot to the other, trying to gage his closed expression. “I know that we’re soulmates. I know we’ve felt the same way about them since we were young. But maybe we’re soulmates for a reason.”
“For a reason?” he repeats, his gaze not leaving hers for one moment, and she wonders if that’s hope seeping in at the corners of his eyes. “A reason other than the universe fucking with us?”
“Yeah,” Michelle says, chewing on her lower lip. “I don’t know, it’s just something she mentioned. The fact that we get our soulmates at eighteen is...interesting. Like, we’re the driving force and the universe just follows in our footsteps instead of the other way around.”
“It is interesting. Do you think that’s true?”
“It could be. It might not have anything to do with it. I don’t think we’ll ever really know, but I don’t think it matters if it’s true or not. I just thought it was worth mentioning so that when I suggest we forget about the deal we made to move on, it’ll make more sense.”
“You—you want to?” He swallows, the tension in his shoulders dissipating slowly but surely, and she nods. “I—I mean, yes, yeah, we can do that.”
“You think this is better for us?”
“I think...god, MJ, I think the decision we made that night was one of the worst,” Peter admits with a shaky laugh. “It felt like the worst. And I know we had our reasons that made sense, and we could’ve been mature about the whole ordeal by moving on, but I just—I don’t want to move on.”
Michelle exhales a sigh, probably of relief, a small smile appearing. “That’s...I’m glad to hear that. I don’t want to either.”
“And if that soulmate stuff is true, then even better, but I don’t think it matters if it’s true or not either,” he continues, his eyes flitting across her face. “I just want—I want you in my life, MJ. Always. No matter the reason.”
“Even if it might not all be real?”
“I think it is real. I think you’re the realest part of my life,” Peter says softly, Michelle nodding, unable to help the small smile forming. Her eyes close when she leans into him, and he wraps his arms around her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry we let two years get away.”
“I’m sorry too. But, hey,” she prompts, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes, her hand coming up to cup his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “We’ll make up for it. I’ll see you so much that you’ll get tired of me.”
“Never.” He turns his head slightly to kiss her open palm, and she feels her heart do that thing where it skips a beat only around him.
“What were you going to say earlier?”
“Hmm?” His face reddens as if he just remembered. “Oh, that. It was just...I was going to tell you because I had nothing else left to lose. You were going to leave, and I thought ‘fuck it’, but…”
“Tell me anyway,” she says with a small, amused smile.
“Okay.” Peter hesitates, incredibly flushed, before leaning forward a little, pressing his lips to her cheek. She tries to temper the heat rising, feeling the same rush she had when they were on the roof at eighteen. “I’m very much...” He kisses her other cheek. “In love with you.” When he pulls back to look her in the eyes, his own are glistening slightly. “Is...that okay?”
“I think…” Michelle pauses, smiling, tilting his chin a bit so that their noses brush, their lips touch for a moment, the snowflakes slowing to a halt around them. Two years later, and they find themselves like this in the end anyway. “We can make that work, Peter.”
“Yeah?” He laughs softly, kissing her again. “So very glad that you’d take a chance on me.”
“I’ve had feelings for you since high school, so,” she reminds him, and he grins because yeah, it’s nice to know that even after all of these years pass and all of these things changed, some things never have and never will.
“When do you have to leave?”
“At this rate, we should have all the time in the world.”
“Do you want to come inside for a bit then?” Peter asks, pressing his lips into a knowing smile, and she has to snort.
“Ten minutes?” she teases, and he drops her another kiss, lingering and gentle, the horns of New York blaring to a halt in the background. Sometimes, it does feel nice when time stops and it’s just them.
“No more, no less.”
“Well, this feels painfully familiar.”
“Be glad that we’re not in your bed this time,” Peter hums, pulling the comforter higher around Michelle as he presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, the light from the hallway shining in their eyes. “But, like, knock next time, Gwendy.”
“Your suit is on the floor. Your window is open. Do you ever learn?” Gwen deadpans, shucking her headphones and rolling her eyes. “Though, I am glad you two got your shit together. You can thank me with a fruit basket or, you know, my laundry still needs done after last time—”
Peter throws a pillow at the door, and she slams it closed after a grumble, leaving the two of them laughing to themselves.
“I wonder how your roommates put up with you,” Michelle comments with a small smile, content, happy, and he buries his face in her neck, peppering kisses. She hates that it took them so long to get to this point.
“They don’t. I’m annoying.”
“You really are.” She twists her head a bit, cupping his jaw to catch his lips briefly. He hums, pleased, palm skimming the smooth skin of her back. “You’re lucky I’m used to it.”
“And I appreciate you for that,” Peter says, tucking a curl behind her ear, and she lets herself relish in the moment for a little longer before standing up, the comforter slipping from around her shoulders. The clock on the wall keeps ticking.
“Well, it’s almost seven,” she sighs, knowing that if it were up to her, she’d stay for the rest of the weekend. “Pretty sure we’ve stalled long enough. I’ve got a three hour drive.”
“Do you have to go?” he mumbles despite knowing that answer, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
Michelle merely smiles and promises that she’ll see him again soon. He holds her tighter, says that he likes hearing those words, reminds her that he loves her and he’ll wait for her to return home. It makes her feel warm in the cold room, the idea that she loves him too and that she has a reason to come back to New York, to come back to him. It cushions the prospect of leaving.
She says goodbye to Gwen, giving her a tight hug and a promise that she’ll be back to watch a few practices, a few real shows. She wishes her good luck with her soulmate but knows they’ve already got something good going on—they know what they’re doing.
Peter comes with Michelle to her father’s apartment to grab her things, the suitcase and a few bags she’d left behind. Her car is parked outside, ready to drive her back to college after break. Two weeks suddenly feels like it passed so fast, and she wonders where the time went.
“I’ll call you when I get there,” she says, her lips curving slightly, and he nods, dropping a lingering kiss to her temple.
“Be safe.”
“You be safe.” She doesn’t think she has to mention Spider-Man again, him already smirking. “I’ll see you soon, Pete. Some weekend. Maybe a holiday. Maybe I’ll just surprise you.”
“A ‘see you soon’ is much better than a goodbye, so I’ll take whatever. Who knows, I might just have to visit you,” he responds, and she grins, not dropping his gaze even as she gets in the car, rolling her window down. “Wait. I know the holidays are over and everything, but you were the one who said I should make use of this?”
Peter pulls out a strand of mistletoe from his pocket, waving it in the air, and she stifles her snort before meeting him halfway. She thinks she could be frozen in time with him forever.
“Love you,” Michelle says softly.
“Love you, too.” He backs away from the car as she puts it in gear and turns onto the road, his silhouette visible in the rearview mirror, getting smaller and smaller until she can no longer see him. But her mind is already counting the days until she can come back to the city that’s starting to feel like home again.
Good, old New York.