Work Text:
*｡✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Here he was again. Peter inched closer to the edge of the roof, not really paying attention to the pedestrians downstairs and especially not even thinking about the possibility of one of them seeing him. He was too busy staring.
He knew he should stop doing this. If he thought about it rationally, he knew it was kinda creepy.
Very much illegal, too. It'd ruin his reputation as the friendly neighbourhood hero if someone were to catch him. He still couldn't help himself. This was all he had left of them. Watching, like a teenage boy watched his first celebrity crush on the tv screen with his mouth open.
Except that boy could never grasp the depths of Peters longing. The need to be a part of their lives again. The urge to just knock and talk with Ned like those four years had never really gone by. The yearning for MJ's smile, voice, wit. His best friends. His girlfriend. Once upon a time, at least.
It made him want to tear his heart out, when the feeling of loneliness sucked him in too deep again and the tears formed without permission. It made him want to scream into his pillow to make himself known and disappear into nothing at the same time.
Who would really miss him? The people of New York, maybe. They'd miss Spiderman. They'd turn the page in the newspaper with a sad sigh and move on with their day. No one would miss Peter Parker. Not Ned, who was preparing snacks in the kitchen of their shared flat. Not MJ, who was picking out a movie while yelling something over her shoulder.
He used to sit there too. In between them, probably pulling out the blankets to keep it cosy.
Sometimes he imagined it. He'd sit at the kitchen island with his laptop, discussing classes with Ned while his best friend cooked dinner. MJ would look over his shoulder and point out mistakes he made. He felt a little more at peace when he did.
Soon after the reality always crashed back in, and he'd wonder why he even bothered to swing back and forth buildings every day when he could just... not. He could just let go. Let the last web be shot, and welcome the fall. The wind. The tickling in his stomach. He could close his eyes and welcome the quiet of it all. It would be easy. Swift. He'd barely feel it.
Sometimes he tempted fate and let himself go.
He'd watch the ground approach and close his eyes. His senses would warn him when he came close, and like clockwork, his body would always move before his mind could catch up. So he moved forth. Not on. He could never move on.
*｡✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*