Chapter Text
Peter enjoys photography.
Art was never one of his strong suits – the best he could do was a flower here or a stick figure there, and even with classes and youtube videos and hours pouring over cheap pencils and paints, it never amounted to anything. But photography, on the other hand, was something he knew he was good at. He was confident in the way he framed photos, the filters he used, and the stories his work told when all was said and done. He was proud, even, of most of his work.
So when his photography teacher pulls him aside with a solemn expression, Peter doesn't know what to expect. He had always had perfect grades and was accustomed to praise for his work, but it didn't seem like that was what he was about to receive.
"Peter, you're a good student," His teacher, Mr. Halloway, begins. "But your work is.. repetitive. Impersonal. You're a good photographer and have lots of potential, but none of this is... you, Peter. Photography is a form of art. Of self-expression." He sighs. "I'm giving you a project. Make a portfolio — make it personal. Let's say.. twenty pictures? You're an amazing photographer, and I know you can do this. I look forward to seeing your work in the future."
Peter hauls his camera strap further up his shoulder, biting his lip as he looks around. Personal? He can't do anything with his nighttime activities, and he already had pictures of the lab, Tony, May, and Happy. He has a café date with MJ and Ned scheduled tomorrow for their pictures, but he was lost on what else he could use.
Surely a few repeats of the same people wouldn't be against the project guidelines — not that there were many. His teacher was extremely vague with that. However, he didn't want to just turn in the same picture, or anything that looked too similar. He was sure that would be disappointing.
Peter's (temporary) solution to his artist's block was to take a trip around New York. He figured that as he took pictures of random things that caught his eye, inspiration would strike and he would be able to finish the project. He still had another two months of it, but Peter was never one to leave important things for the last minute. The sooner he could finish, the better.
Peter made his way through the crowds in Central Park, checking over his camera settings as he allowed his spidey-sense to avoid running into any passersby. Once he made it to a less crowded area, he lifted the lens to his eye and began snapping pictures.
He took them rapidly, changing direction as soon as he was sure he got a clear picture. He would check them all later, when he had time to sift through them and edit the ones he wanted to keep for his blog. He allowed himself to relax as he continued to take pictures – a tree, a crowd of people, a small group sitting on the grass, some skateboarders across the way.
After an hour, he lost hope. Inspiration had yet to strike, and the sun was setting. He would have to try again tomorrow.
♤
Peter slipped off his shoes by the door and padded quietly into the living room.
"May?" He called, unsure if his aunt was home yet or not. Only silence follows when his voice stops echoing quietly around the apartment, and he sighs as he takes off his jacket and walks to his room on sock clad feet. He makes quick work of turning on his lamp before booting up his laptop and putting his camera case down next to it on his desk. He changes into sweatpants and takes off his shirt as it loads, and flops into his desk chair once he's done.
He fiddles with his camera as his editing app loads, scrolling through the pictures. He got a few good ones — mainly ones of plant life and wildlife, but he finds that he got some cool shots of the skateboarders, too.
It's towards the middle of his journey through his camera roll that he sees him.
Blond hair glowing in the sunlight, eyes squinted and lips curled mischievously, he's so beautiful that Peter physically recoils, as if he can't fully process what he sees. The boy is wearing a dark grey beanie, black leather jacket, and dark distressed jeans. His feet are cut off in the picture, but Peter is sure that he must be wearing some type of combat boot.
Peter glances at his computer and sees that the editing app has loaded, so he quickly transfers the picture over and zooms in. It seems that it was originally going to be a picture of a small group of people seated on the grass, and the boy must've ran into the picture without Peter noticing. Peter finds himself more fond than annoyed – he's positive the picture was made much better with smiling boy's presence than it would've been without.
He debates on editing other pictures — he would rather die than turn this picture in without any explanation — but finds that he doesn't want to. So, he crops the photo of the boy, plays around with the filters and colouring, and, once satisfied with the end result, sits back in his chair feeling like a creep.
He wasn't doing anything wrong, really — he didn't stalk this boy or actively decide to take a picture of him (it actually seems like the boy himself actively tried to get Peter to take a picture of him), nor was he doing anything creepy or perverted with the picture. However, Peter wasn't used to portraits, and especially not ones of random strangers.
So, editing this picture – and taking the time
out of his night to notice the freckles dotting
the boy's cheeks and the way the sunlight glinted off his hair – was unusual for Peter in a way that had him almost uncomfortable, if it weren't for how attracted he found himself towards the boy.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by May poking her head in his room to wish him goodnight. He hadn't even heard her come in.
He groans and runs a hand through his hair, before powering down his computer and turning off his light. He slips into bed and falls asleep quickly to the sight of sparkling blue eyes, hoping tomorrow is better.