chemistacy-blog said: song prompt: don't wanna be your girl by wet B)MEME | Closed! (bc this ruined me too much and I don’t want to go through this again)
The worst part is the waiting; the slow, monotonous seconds until impact, watching listlessly as the world goes on and on while you are trapped until something gives or breaks.
He can feel the gravel beneath his sneakers and the cold wind bite at his cheeks. He has both limbs tucked inside his coat as he walks, stopping only until she has acknowledged he has arrived.
❝ You came. ❞
There is the saddest tinge of surprise, sparing enough of a glance that she almost regrets doing so. Her smoke-stung eyes meet his, hazel hues being the only undamaged thing left about him. Her cracked lips part to say hello, before closing up again, face growing dim with sorrow as if she expected any other version of him to show up.
It would make it easier that way.
Peter is the first to say hello, since she won’t do it. There is exhaustion in his voice, a tired whisper that is barely audible over the wind when he approaches her. He barely offers a smile, let alone any conversation pieces. Small talk is off the table, because they both know why she invited him here.
❝ I leave for England tomorrow. ❞ Gwen says quietly, offering only this unchanged fact.
His lips remain sedated, but everything else betrays him. Eyes shut down for a second, head tilts forward in unnerved instinct, lungs clinging to the last remnants of oxygen that is escaping him. It takes him a moment before he can finally open his eyes again and gaze back at her.
❝ Peter — please, ❞ her voice cracks, and it scares her more than it scares him.
❝ If there’s anything you want to tell me, just tell me now. ❞ She won’t admit it but she’s pleading, begging for him to give her a reason to stay, to prove to her that people are worth holding onto.
He licks his lips, a ghost wrapping its hand around his throat. Her expression grows distraught as the sand falls down the hourglass. She wraps shaking arms around herself, fear creeping up her spine when Peter remains silent, her mouth trembling to speak to at least dampen the air.
His voice feels too small to fill the void that’s left between them. He looks away, eyes fixated on the artificial lamplight pouring its entire soul all over the roof, falling on golden hair and bending around him like a shadow.
❝ I can’t be with you, Gwen. ❞
Something inside her rib-cage shatters, tiny pieces decorating the bones in her body. Explosions are supposed to be loud, ear-splitting and tremendous. But it is a quiet crack, gentle and sad but no less destructive.
She bows her head and inhales slowly, wiping away ashen kohl from her eyes, smeared makeup painting the insides of her palm.
❝
I have loved you, Peter Parker
—
I have loved you with everything I’ve had.
So why do you keep doing this to me?
❞
Her words are raw, no less frailer than the first time she admitted how much she adored him. Both of them are at the end of their frayed ropes, all energy spent in this little game of tug-of-war they had.
It’s evident how exhausted he is to say these three little words, stated almost as many times as he has exhaled ‘ I love you. ’
❝ Gwen, I promised — ❞
❝ Why can’t you be SELFISH for once! ❞ She takes a dangerous step towards him, shouting so recklessly that it feels like the echo is bouncing off the surrounding buildings.
She doesn’t mean it. She knows that. She knows that it isn’t in him to be selfish. Not even for her.Her tone is a dissonant slam that cuts him off so abruptly that all he can manage to do is shout back.
❝
I can’t do that you!
❞
He stops himself, her hands unknowingly silencing him like a choke-chain. He draws a ragged breath, preparing himself for the cold callous his words will inflict. His face is unraveling now, scorn and lust emptying out into his throat, hollowing it and leaving nothing but madness. His words spill out of him, a self-deprecating voice that is so reminiscent of the last time he ever felt so hopeless.
❝ You know I can’t do that to you. ‘Least of all you — I can’t hold you back, and I can’t — I can’t let you get hurt, either. If anything ever happened to you because of me, I’d — I can’t lose you, Gwen. ❞
He can feel his guilt churn, burning up his soul like a house-fire when he lets everything out. Once it’s all said and done, all that is left is ashes and bones from the people trapped inside.
His begging shouts hollow her body so perfectly that it becomes an echo chamber for her prayers.
❝ Then stop letting go. ❞
They stay quiet for a long time, the sound of a lonely wind accompanying them.
Somewhere below them, a traffic light has switched green as cab drivers honk their horns, and somewhere above them, God is crying for his creations.
She’s the first to do something, like always, taking a careful step toward him. He doesn’t flinch this time, his feet grounded to where he stands in despair.
❝ Peter — ❞ her voice is carrying the last contingent of hope she has left. Her mouth is numb, eyes stinging with countless years of stolen first times.
❝ If it’s not you, then it won’t ever be anyone else. ❞
Because if she leaves, then that is it. She will purge him from her system if she ever hopes to survive, burn up whatever home he made in her heart and in the process, leave it in the incinerator.
Because it’s not just the fact he’s a hero. It’s the brown doe eyes, mud-stained sneakers, stupid jokes and goodness in his heart. It’s everything about Peter Parker. Everything that has become intertwined with her.
For a moment, she almost believes he might dip his head forward and kiss away the sadness, to save her life one last time and make all her dreams come true with one simple action.
He does nothing, and it feels like a fate worse than death.
“That’s it, then?” she swallows once, standing breathless when they both hear police sirens in the distance.
The worst part about waiting is wondering if anything would be different, if you waited a bit longer. He doesn’t look away from her, trying to bottle up her being into his memory as fast he can before he must inevitably disappear, one last time.
“You better go.” She says it slowly, enunciating each line so he understands that she has finally accepted the requiem, the quiet threnody that will sing like a funeral for years to come. She will prepare the rosaries, rip the bandages and start the fire the moment he is gone.
He isn’t aware until now of the single tear falling down his face, a quiet witness to the tragedy taking place. He nods, knowing that the city demands a hero, and when he survives the night, she will never be there to heal him again.
He is on his way to jump off the ledge when he stops. It is the first time he ever hesitated from answering the call, and for a second her heart beats with hope. But it is gone, just as fast as he is.
When he goes, she remembers the nights she loved him, when she held him for dear life until the early burn of dawn, a ray of sunlight cleaving through the window-sill to catch their entangled limbs, her head laying so perfectly on his chest that she really did believe she was meant for him from the start.
She walks back to the elevator, letting old memories drip away one by one like a leaking sink. She has a flight in seven hours, and she can barely comprehend a morning when she did not consider herself his and his alone.
5 years ago with 2 notes
#chemistacy #[ RP | DRABBLE ] #[ ' love is watching someone die ' ]
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