citystarlet said: protect.

meme |   Protect: My character keeps yours safe from harm. 

Tap Tap.

He does not initially hear the rap of the window, all too absorbed by the piece of homework his teacher had assigned to the class earlier that day.

“Peter?”

Her voice is enough that he finally cranes his head, surprised to see her. Even through the frosted tint of the window and the prescription of his glasses, he can recognize the fiery red hair underneath the beanie.

“Peter, please, open the window.” she says, muffled by the barrier of glass separating them.

He gets up, turning to check the time before unlocking the window. A gust of November air blows through the opening, causing a shiver down his spine and a cold awakening from his tiredness.

“Mary Jane, what are you…” He begins to speak, but is ultimately hindered by her red-rimmed eyes and the damp glistening of her cheeks. She purses her lips, hardly breathing, clutching at an unkempt cardigan thrown around her shoulders. He can hear the faint chatter of her teeth. Her hands are shivering so much it looks like she might lose grip of the cardigan.

“Come in.” he steps away and takes her pale hand, helping her in as best he can. She stumbles slightly, grabbing onto the ledge for support before she has both feet firmly on his carpet. She sits at the side of his bed while he locks up the window. He looks around, just a stone’s throw away from him is Mary Jane’s window, her room empty without light or herself. There’s only a small gap that separates the edges of both their rooftop positions, and it’s been the sight of many summer meet-ups and late night conversations.

He glances below the gap, noticing a broken window that leads to her kitchen, shards of beer bottles strewn on top of the snow.

.He fixes his glasses, “Are you okay?”

She barely answers with a slight nod, not even looking at him. She’s quiet, withdrawn into herself as if the world has just been taken away from her. He doesn’t know what to do, unused to quiet from Mary Jane.  Evasive was one thing. This was different.

He’s standing there, unsure of what to do. His eyes are drawn to the sleeves she keeps trying to pull down, the lock of hair getting in the way of her pale face that she refrains from pushing back.

He’s about to ask if she wants some water before she looks up, surprising him with her insecure gaze.

“I’m sorry.” she whispers, her voice at the brink of cracking.

Her emerald eyes are watery, as if a renewed sense to cry has come back now that she is in his presence. She stifles a sob, and rubs at her eyes as if forcing herself to not cry is something simple. She brings her toes off the ground and her knees towards her chest, curling up so small in the hopes that she might just disappear.

He can almost sense the anger and sadness welling up inside her, clouding out the bright and confident Mary Jane Watson that he’s known since they were kids in the playground. The parts of her that convinced him to not be so scared of heights, to try (and fail) at football, to try again at photography, to go watch an R-Rated movie downtown,

to remember to live.

He’s trying to seem assure of himself, steady in the way only confidence can bring. But at the age of 14 he feels powerless to help her. He doesn’t remember a time before this when she has needed him most, and he can feel his stomach knotting up at the sight of her withdrawing from the world. From him.

He sits on the bed with her, scared that she will shy away from his presence. He reaches over and places an experimental hand on her shoulder, inching towards her before she finally relaxes and lets her body rest on his. Her body is so rigid with fear he’s afraid she might fall apart in his arms, but his hands are surprisingly firm, and she can feel his heartbeat pulse through his chest.

“Don’t be,” his mouth is on autopilot, remembering to respond to her apology earlier before. He wraps his other arm around her, hoping that he isn’t going too far.

“It’s not your fault.” Whatever it is. Whether it was showing up at his window on a school night or some other event she’d rather not say, he’s certain of that.

He scooches backwards so both of them are supported by the headboard and pillows now. He tries his best to relax, but he doesn’t remember the last time he was this intimate with MJ (if he was intimate at all). She has calmed down considerably, taking deep breaths to try and save herself some shred of tranquility.

He doesn’t know what she feels, but the awkwardness of the situation is burning him all too much. He doesn’t know what to say, has no clue what action to take next to cheer her up. He can feel his glasses starting to sag, and he gingerly removes them without second thought before they get in the way.

He blinks, looking down at her to check on her status. At such close proximity, he can see well enough that he knows she is staring back up at him. His mouth opens slightly, noticing how close they really are for the first time. Her eyes are still bloodshot and her cheeks are burning red, but Peter can’t help but think how beautiful her eyes really are in this moment.

He’s about to say something stupid before she speaks up, “I don’t think I’ve seen you without glasses.”

He mulls over this statement, realizing that she has, oddly enough, not really seen him without his glasses ever since he received his prescription. He hates the idea of contacts, or living with blurry vision for the rest of his life: so he never deigns to leave them behind.

“Huh. I guess not.” it’s all he can really say, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“You look really good,” he bites his tongue, his brown eyes widening a bit before she finishes it off, “In that really nerdy kind of way.”

The air finally breaks into some form of comfort. She’s trying to seem steady, obviously still shell-shocked but otherwise holding on. He doesn’t know what to expect now. She bites her lip, and her eyes blink once in all the time they’ve been looking at each other. His heart is hammering so hard that it feels like it might escape him.

“Thanks a lot.” it comes out whiny and sarcastic, a smile flickers on her face. He can feel her sadness draining away, and she tangles an arm around his body as if she’s been drowning and finally coming back up for air. He’s not good at a lot of things, but he’s glad he can do this much for Mary Jane. 

They go over the awkward details of her staying the night until she feels better, and once that is over and done with they start talking to each other about their day. With each topic brought in he can feel her returning, and when she smiles he knows that he hasn’t lost her yet.

He sleeps on a futon that night, looking up at his temporary roommate while she grins down at him from her perch. She’s helping herself to the pillows when he gets up to close the lights and sneak back into his blankets. Exhaustion seeps into his brain, slowly shutting down his body for the night. He can hear the faint sounds of movement on his bed, adjusting his sheets and moving a pillow around, to give herself some semblance of home.

 It doesn’t take long before she is comfortable and the sounds stop. He rolls over, sleeping on his side, facing the bed as his eyelids flicker to a close.

Peter drifts off to sleep, and at this point he is unable to discern what he hears and sees as dream or reality. He imagines himself sneaking into her room one day to give her a birthday present, to give an apology, to hold her so close and so tight that she’ll know why he can’t bare to lose her. He imagines meeting her a hundred times, in a hundred different scenarios. He imagines building a bridge that she will cross one step at a time. He imagines meeting her on the other side. He imagines painting the sky a scarlet red. He imagines saving her, time and again. He imagines the times when he doesn’t. He imagines himself older, faster, stronger beyond belief and still be weak to her smile.

He imagines her leaving. He imagines himself running after her. He imagines her asking what took him so long. He imagines the whole life ahead for both of them. 

“Thanks, tiger.” 

#incxndia  #[ RP | DRABBLE ]  #//ayy i remember the last time i wrote one of these  #//decided to take a diff route from last year  #//sorry for the rusty writing  #[ rp | inquiry ]  

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