Chapter Text
December 31, 2024
Dear Neighbor,
You may be wondering who I am. Or why I’m writing you a letter. I know it’s a bit old-fashioned, but letters have always had a special place in my heart.
I’m your neighbor from downstairs. I moved in a couple weeks ago, and truth be told, you are the epitome of an “upstairs neighbor.” Do you only come home at night? I feel like the amount of thuds I’ve heard is honestly less annoying than it is concerning. Do you have any lights in your apartment? Because it sure sounds like you’re wandering around in the dark up there.
I knocked on your door when I moved in. I baked cookies, and I had hoped it would be a nice way to meet the people in the building—but when I knocked on your door, there wasn’t an answer. I assumed you were just out, so I came by the next day. But you weren’t there again. And honestly, I don’t like giving my baked goods after a couple days, so I showed up one more day, thought “this is it”...
That was not it.
Honestly, by that point I wasn’t sure anyone actually lived up there, but I checked with Mr. Landlord, and he confirmed there was someone. It helped assuage my doubts when I heard a thump up there at night, and realized you were probably home late most days.
So, what’s up?
Curious and slightly concerned,
Your neighbor
P. S. I can bring cookies by again sometime. You just have to answer.
P. P. S. Happy New Years
Lara Jean looked out her small window, sighing at the brick wall across the way. Her fingers smoothed out the pretty stationary, careful not to smudge any of the still drying ink. How did it come to this?
Only five months ago she’d been excited about coming to New York, starting NYU, and beginning the life she’d always dreamed of. It’d seemed so perfect. Sure, her family was far, but that was how she was going to spread her wings, blaze her own trail, and Peter was on the opposite end of the country, but they were going to be star-crossed lovers. Braving the distance and time apart. She was going to make it in New York, they were going to make it through the separation, and life was going to be all she’d dreamed of.
But instead she was alone on New Year’s Eve, her new (dingy) apartment still had boxes blocking the already cramped space, and she missed her family.
She also couldn’t bear the thought of going home.
The chance of seeing him was too great, so when her professor recommended her for an internship at a publishing house in Queens, she’d jumped at the chance to stay busy and far, far away for the holidays.
Thanks to her funds from tutoring people in English all semester, waiting tables, scouring apartment listings, and a healthy dose of luck, she snagged her own apartment in Queens, only minutes from the publishing house. And that’s why she was there.
At least, that’s what she told Margot.
After folding the letter and putting it into an envelope, she threw herself onto the bed. It was the only area she’d fully made hers so far and she buried her face in the plush comforter, letting out a sigh that was a tad pitiful.
She turned over, holding the letter above her face.
Was it pathetic?
No.
Right?
She didn’t know much about her upstairs neighbor beyond the fact that he existed, was home only late at night, and that he was apparently a “nice, young man.” Although, considering those were the landlord’s words, and he was probably alive for long enough that The Great Gatsby reminded him of his adolescence, the “young man” could honestly be in his late teens to early forties and Lara Jean wouldn’t be surprised.
She hoped he wasn’t that old though.
She hoped he could be her friend.
New York had been a whirlwind, her first semester passing by as a busy, colorful mess. It’d been fun and stressful and so, so different from home. She’d been able to go back for Thanksgiving, and that week had been so nice until the end of it.
When she came back, she was a mess.
But she channeled her focus into school, work, going above and beyond so that she wouldn’t have to look behind. She’d finished with a 4.0 for her first semester. It should’ve felt amazing. She just felt hollow.
So, there she was: alone, friendless, trying not to think about what was back home.
Some nights she couldn’t help it and she found herself going back to that day, sitting there, feeling like the world-
Lara Jean stood up, clutching the letter in her hands.
Nope.
Time to go drop it off at her neighbor’s.
~~
Peter Parker crawled into his apartment hours after the new year had begun, hitting the floor a little harder than he expected. It had been a long, long night.
The holiday had not been easy on Spiderman. Robberies, fights, drunk tourists all over the streets. He was tired and sore and the fireworks had made him far more sad than excited for the new year.
The whole world was moving on, looking toward new beginnings, ready to leave the year and all its baggage behind them.
Peter couldn’t help but feel he was part of that baggage.
No one remembered him anymore, but this felt like just another way the world was saying goodbye to him. It was the last year he had May. The last year Peter Parker existed.
It was the worst year of his life, and that was saying something, but the fact that it was just gone, over, felt like some sick joke.
He sat on his bed, pulled off his mask, and let himself breath as the tears fell from his eyes. Most nights he was too tired to think about it all, he made sure of it, but this time it couldn’t be avoided. His tears were warm, sliding down his cheeks and he didn’t bother to wipe them. Sniffling quietly in the dark, he looked to where the moonlight fell into his apartment.
There was an envelope on the floor in front of his door.
It was pale blue, loopy cursive across it like that of a Victorian lover.
Neighbor
He wiped his face, breathing still a little faster than usual, body aching as he stood up and went to grab it. When it was in his hands, he sat down on the floor, leaning against his bed, and staring at it in his dirtied hands.
It smelled faintly warm, like cinnamon and vanilla and memories he had to close his eyes to push down. He dropped the letter and got into bed, shutting his eyes tight, away from the world that forgot him.