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Despite the bitter chill and the way the cold seeps into her very bones, Mary Jane still makes it a point to roll her cigarettes. They’re sitting on the fire escape outside her apartment - their usual spot - and she’s got the tobacco in her lap while Gwen sits back and watches how her spindly fingers elegantly crease the paper - turning it into a kind of art. Gwen always jokes that Mary Jane only rolls her cigarettes because she loves a performance, and Mary Jane never responds. She just grins - something large but secretive.
That’s what these nights are as well - their secret. When Mary Jane’s not MJ Watson, the flaky party girl, and Gwen’s not Gwen Stacy, the goody-two-shoes, shrewd daughter of a police captain. When they’re not Mary Jane and Gwen, Peter Parker’s ‘girls’ and expected rivals, but two girls sharing a cigarette as they talk into the dead of night.
Mary Jane feels the heat of Gwen’s gaze as she draws her tongue against the cigarette paper. Like the sun: imposing, intense, but out of her reach. So, she focuses on the cigarette, looking at anything but Gwen. After all, they say if you look at the sun for too long, it blinds you.
“Voila,” Mary Jane gleefully declares as she finishes rolling the cigarette, dangling it in the air, only for Gwen to quickly pluck it out her fingers. Sticking it in her mouth with a grin, Gwen stretches out her hand for the lighter.
Instead, Mary Jane leans over, lighter in hand. She’s been caught by the deep sapphire of Gwen’s eyes and the soft peach colour of her chapped lips - almost hypnotic. They’re so close that Mary Jane thinks this might burn her, branding her with a permanent scar, letting everyone know how much power Gwen Stacy has over her. Gwen simply looks at her, open light now in her hand; she does that sometimes, staring at Mary Jane in a way that leaves her bare and vulnerable. As she lights the cigarette, Mary Jane teasingly murmurs, “my, my, what would people say if they saw Captain Stacy’s daughter so desperate for a cigarette?”
Gwen takes a long drag before coyly replying, “I’d have to tell them how bad an influence Mary Jane Watson is.” And Mary Jane laughs unnecessarily loud as she tips back her head in amusement, resting it on the brick wall. Gwen’s piercing gaze still rests solidly on her.
The first time Gwen smoked had been with Mary Jane on the same fire escape back when they were uneasy acquaintances. When Gwen used to be as enamoured with Peter as he was with her, and Gwen didn’t know how to approach the pretty, effervescent woman who had dated him before - her apparent opposite. Gwen had caught Mary Jane slipping out of one of the many small gatherings she liked to host in her apartment and followed her almost instinctively.
Mary Jane hadn’t expected that from the shy blonde woman whom she had invited after Peter had begged her and also to satiate her own interest in this woman who had caught Peter’s eye. She didn’t care if Gwen had followed her out of concern or curiosity. What Mary Jane cared about was that Gwen noticed her absence because Gwen was the first person who did. No matter how many times Mary Jane sneaked away, no one noticed how much she craved the stillness of the darkness outside until Gwen.
She was even more surprised when Gwen happily accepted Mary Jane’s offer to sit with her and even more eagerly took the cigarette Mary Jane just rolled when she passed it over. Gwen had burst into a fit of hacking and gagging at her first drag, unlike the easy, composed drags she takes now. Mary Jane had been unable to control the giggles that burst from her, only stopping when she noticed the way Gwen’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. That night, when Mary Jane taught Gwen how to inhale cigarette smoke like breathing in air, was the first time Mary Jane didn’t see her as Gwen Stacy, apple of Peter’s eye, but just as Gwen - a future friend.
Gwen’s now leaning on Mary Jane, and her warmth encases her like a cocoon as she passes back the cigarette, carelessly brushing their fingers together. Mary Jane wants to keep Gwen’s hand there, forever having the familiar weight of her hand in her own, but instead, she wordlessly accepts the cigarette.
As she greedily snakes her other arm around Gwen’s shoulders, she forgets how they got here. Then, as Gwen leans closer, she forgets why it matters. Everything fades away as they watch the slumbering city slowly begin to shut off, and all that’s left is them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarette and united in comfortable silence.
It’s only broken when Gwen quietly says, “sometimes I worry that I’m a bad person.” She’s got the cigarette now, and she punctuates her statement with a drag instead of explaining more. She’s relaxed further, moving from Mary Jane’s shoulder to resting her head on her lap.
Mary Jane drags her fingers through Gwen’s soft blonde hair as she asks, “you wanna tell me why, Gwendy?” She uses the nickname, hoping to get a laugh out of the girl who has suddenly become solemn. Gwen likes to make these big, declarative statements when it’s just them, saying them without giving Mary Jane any context. Sometimes, Mary Jane just wants to study the inside of Gwen’s brain, get a grasp of a woman far too complex than she should be.
But this time, Gwen continues, “I don’t love Peter. I’ve tried so hard, but I don’t think I can, and I wonder if there’s something wrong with me or if I’m doing something wrong because he’s so nice and good. You don’t meet guys like that often.”
“Most people don’t describe their dream guy as ‘nice’ and ‘good’,” Mary Jane comments, fingers still twisting Gwen’s hair. When she was a girl, Gwen Stacy played softball, and then she joined model UN and various other clubs before graduating high school with straight honours. In many ways, Peter Parker was the culmination of all of that. He was the perfect boyfriend to be the cherry on top of her sundae of success. Except he wasn’t because Gwen Stacy had broken up with him out of the blue a week ago. Then two days later, she kissed Mary Jane on the fire escape like a dying woman might, and they hadn’t talked about it since.
“But that’s how you’d describe Peter,” Gwen earnestly replies. She doesn’t address how Mary Jane called him her ‘dream guy’. Mary Jane is tempted to just blatantly ask her what Peter was to her, unsure of her own standing now that Gwen and Peter’s relationship remained in limbo, both of them still holding onto each other despite the breakup. Painfully co-dependent because that’s what they had been for so long that now they weren’t sure what to do. “Anyways, you can’t talk. You dated him too.”
“I think I was just greedy,” Mary Jane says, aware of the vulnerability seeping into her voice. One hand has stilled in Gwen’s hair while she uses the other to take a drag of the cigarette now in her hands. “You know how he loves so completely. There’s just something about being loved by Peter Parker.”
“Yeah,” Gwen agrees, resigned. She reaches out for Mary Jane’s wrist and brings it close to her mouth, taking a drag of the cigarette still in Mary Jane’s hand. When Gwen exhales, Mary Jane feels her hot breath and the smoke on her skin. She can barely repress her shudder. “It makes you feel bad when you know you can return it-”
“Makes you feel like a shitty person,” Mary Jane says, finishing the sentence with ease, not just because she had dated Peter before but because she knew Gwen like no one else did. Knew the Gwen, who kept a pack of cigarettes in her purse but still wanted to share a rolled cigarette with Mary Jane, who sat on Mary Jane’s fire escape in silence because she didn’t share that peace with anyone, who kissed like a raging inferno about to devour you despite leaving a lingering taste of artificial cherry. That makes Mary Jane subconsciously lick her lips, hit by the force of her desire to kiss those lips again.
Suddenly, Gwen sits up, face still close to Mary Jane’s, and she murmurs, “I think you’ve ruined me, Mary Jane Watson.” Her hot breath lingers between them, a cross between a promise and a threat, while Mary Jane becomes distinctly aware of the beat of her heart. There’s an unexpected weight to those words that Mary Jane can’t decipher.
“The smoking isn’t entirely on me-” Mary Jane is quickly cut off when Gwen’s hands reach for her face, and the words are knocked out of her voice. All Mary Jane can do is stub out the cigarette on the ashtray by her hips. It was a birthday present from Gwen; it resembled a pair of boobs. She remembers everyone else’s shock that Gwen Stacy had picked that out as a gift, unable to associate it with their image of Gwen Stacy. But to Mary Jane, it was the most Gwen Stacy gift she could hope to get.
For a few drawn-out seconds, Gwen doesn’t say anything, but her hands still clutch Mary Jane’s face, and Mary Jane just wants to lean into the touch. Instead, Mary Jane almost purrs, “you better not kiss and ditch, Stacy.”
That clearly sparks something in Gwen, who brings Mary Jane closer towards herself, hands still on her face. “I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to, Watson,” Gwen practically whispers before kissing Mary Jane, passionate, intense and perfect.
No one else would compare Gwen Stacy to the sun, not even Gwen herself. In fact, more people would compare Mary Jane, who could fill a room with her presence alone, to the sun. But to Mary Jane, Gwen is the centre, and she’s stuck in her orbit. And as Gwen bites her bottom lip with enough force to draw blood and straddles Mary Jane, who can do nothing but open her mouth for Gwen’s tongue, Mary Jane knows she’s been entrapped. Knows that only Gwen Stacy can set her alight and burn her to the bone in a way that leaves her desperate for more. An unwanted soft moan escapes her mouth, and Gwen chuckles deeply, lips still on Mary Jane’s, as her hands entangle themselves in Mary Jane’s deep red hair. Mary Jane has to steady herself, digging her fingers into Gwen’s hips in a way that might leave bruises.
When Gwen pulls away, Mary Jane wants to bring her back in, already cold without Gwen’s warmth. Gwen’s still on top of her, her eyes bore into Mary Jane, whose cheeks are flushed. Briefly, Mary Jane thinks Gwen might kiss her again, but instead, she turns around and leans her back against Mary Jane’s chest, who instinctually wraps her arms around Gwen’s middle.
Mary Jane wants to ask her more, wants to ask what this means for them. But to ask that is to go back to a world of Peter Parker, untimely breakups, and assigned roles that are so unlike the small world they’ve carved out for themselves on this fire escape. It’s easier for Mary Jane to joke, “Jesus, Gwen, your hair smells like an ash trap,” with an exaggerated sniff. “You planning on going home to your family like that.”
And Gwen just laughs as they both already know there’s a place for Gwen in Mary Jane’s apartment tonight because Mary Jane will always make space for Gwen. Another day, Mary Jane will ask what this means for them, where they go from here - to know if, one day, she might call Gwen her own. But tonight, Mary Jane holds Gwen tight, wrapped close together in the peaceful silence of the night.
Another day doesn’t come because a few days later, Gwen Stacy is killed, and Mary Jane almost quits smoking, throwing out her pack of tobacco right after the funeral. Regardless, when they clean out Gwen’s room, and Mary Jane catches sight of a crumpled pack of cigarettes, she holds onto it like it’s a precious treasure. She hides the pack from everyone else, hides that version of Gwen only known to her. She can’t bring herself to smoke them at first because as soon as one of the cigarettes touches her lips: Mary Jane is instantly reminded of Gwen and of their late nights together, and tears spill unbidden from her eyes.
Mary Jane doesn’t actually smoke one of the cigarettes until she finally visits Gwen’s grave, having put it off for far too long, knowing that visiting would emphasise the permanency of her death. Her tombstone reads: ‘Gone Too Soon’. It isn’t enough: bland and generic, it could be used for millions of others - it wasn’t a good enough description of Gwen. For Mary Jane, it was almost an injustice that Gwen, who had lived her life with enthusiasm and zeal, should only be defined by her death when she was so much more than just a victim.
While sitting in front of Gwen’s grave, Mary Jane finally lights a cigarette. She takes her first drag, looking directly at the tombstone, willing the words to come out of her mouth. She couldn’t describe how unfair it was that Gwen hadn’t gone out in a brilliant supernova, how unfair it was that Gwen was gone at all, and how with the news of Gwen’s death, it felt like her heart had been stubbed out.
When Mary Jane speaks, her voice is hoarse and ragged as she says, “ you’ve ruined me, Gwen Stacy, completely destroyed me.” And her voice cracks as she breaks off into body-shaking tears. Mary Jane’s been doing that a lot lately. She leaves the graveyard quickly after that - almost running back to her apartment.
After Gwen Stacy’s death, the fire escape stays empty. Mary Jane would sooner burn alive than sit on the fire escape without Gwen Stacy. And at night, when the city is utterly silent, Mary Jane curls into herself under her comforter, hating herself for being foolish enough to think they’d have the luxury of time, distinctly aware of the cold emptiness at her side.