A Bond Can Survive Part I
“Can you come over tonight?” You murmured as you curled up in bed with your earbuds in, the mic attached picking up your voice easily and projecting it to the boy on the other side. You can’t help the hopeful tone your voice takes on as you think of him back again for another night of being wrapped up in his toned arms, hearing his heartbeat through the ridiculous suit because Peter is too respecting towards you to shed it while in your company. Eyes fluttering closed, you exhaled slowly and breathed in the faint smell of lemons that permeates your room, fighting the will to drift off as you wait on your boyfriend’s response. His breath catches at the question, just like the first time, and you are enamored all over again. Peter Parker is so adorable when he’s shy and unsure of himself and you can tell that his eyes are shifting left and right in thought.
“Ah- are you s-sure? Your parents could walk in at any minute and that would be kinda hard to explain- you know- with me being spiderman and you- maybe I should just finish my p-patrol and see you tomorrow?” He murmured over the line, his eyes taking in the skyscrapers from the roof he perched on, alert at the chance of there being any trouble. He’d been on patrol since four in the afternoon, his red and blue suit seen all over town and in the newspaper as the ‘spiderman wonder! Saving the day again!” And he always reveled in the feeling of knowing that he helped people, saved them, and protected the city from any villain who tried to take it down- well, at least in his neck of the concrete woods. He heard your sigh through the suit and ignored the twinge of guilt in his chest from turning you down, but he knew that it would just be safer for the both of you if he simply stayed away.
“... Fine. Tomorrow, third block from school?” You murmured, ignoring the pout on your lips as you exhaled another sigh, trying to hold back your disappointment even if it’s palpable and moving across the bond fluidly. The invisible strings tethering you to Peter seize up and tighten around you as if to shelter you from your sadness at having to go to sleep alone. Peter murmurs out an affirmation before saying he had to go because a criminal tried to rob a taxi and he was en route to rectify the situation. You hang up and roll over onto your other side, grumbling under your breath like a brat and filling the emptiness in your ear with music. You huff after a moment before reaching out to hug a stuffed dog to your chest. His name was Wilkins and he was the first thing Peter had given to you on your first secret date. It was a secret because, well, no one knew that he was your Bonded, not your parents, friends, or anyone at your high school. And Peter swore he would keep it away from Ned, his best friend, because you felt it was better that way.
You didn’t want to seem like a condescending individual, but you came from an extremely successful family. Your father ran a business out of the heart of the city and your mother spent her days as a fashion mogul, creating individual pieces of glitz and glamour for the rich and famous. You were born with a golden spoon in your mouth and your parents had always instilled in you this idea of deserving only the best of the best, even when it came to a Bonded. Your mother and father were not True Bonds in the least; in fact, your mother left her True Bond because she saw the life your father would give her. Whether that was the most righteous reason, you couldn’t bear judgement. Without that happening, you would’ve never been born.
And that being said, if your family ever found out about Peter Parker being your Bonded… they would be so disappointed and you would probably be forced into an Arranged Bond by the end of the year. You knew that they were capable of this and although you wouldn’t have cared before your tattoo suddenly appeared on your shoulder a few months ago, now you were sure that it was the last thing you ever wanted to happen. If people were to find out about your mismatched pairing, the information would get back to them and everything you had would be ruined.
Or maybe- you are just afraid of their judgement, of the effect it could have on your status, of the stigma against Peter that you never once tried to dissuade. You made a point to only meet with him away from school or in the dead of night when your parents are too doped up on painkillers to know that you exist. And Peter is pure, so trusting and kind, and he does whatever it is you want without question. He is so accommodating and understanding and sometimes- when you have those brief moments of clarity, you realize that you are being so unfair to him. You hide him away and refuse to even let him hold your hand in public. In school- and it hurts to remember- you ignore him, his smiles, the times when he used to wave at you from across the cafeteria and you would just turn your head away and pretend not to see the smile sliding right off of his face like a child who’s snow cone fell to the ground seconds after its purchase.
No one thinks anything of it; they find Peter smart, brilliant, but weird, nerdy, someone who will never belong to the popular crowd that dominates the school, the crowd that you were thrust into merely because of your name. Your popularity is a sham and something you don’t even care about, but it feels like it’s been programmed in you to want it, to own it, to need it as a defining factor of who you are when really it is fleeting and will amount to nothing when you graduate. You have no idea of what will happen when you no longer have to walk the walls of Midtown School of Science and Technology. Your mother and father thought it would suit your intellect to have a more science based background rather than business like your father or fashion like your mother- sure, you can make the grades, figure out the equations, but it was never good enough for either of them.
You aren’t known for your brain, just your face and last name. And maybe that could be enough for you… but it didn’t change the fact that your treatment of Peter is less than fair. You lull your bruised feelings to sleep with the sounds of a random song, a frown slowly slipping from your lips as the words begin to slip away from you.
I've missed your calls for months it seems
Don't realize how mean I can be
'Cause I can sometimes treat the people
That I love like jewelry
You dream of being trapped in a field of diamonds, reaching out to someone who’s back is turned to you, the weight of the jewelry crushing you into an infinite darkness.
You awaken to the sound of a distinct knock on your door, quickly jumping up in bed from your sleep and shoving back the covers to respond. You can tell that it's your mother, someone who is so particular and hates to be kept waiting. You march over to the door, pushing back your (h/l), (h/c) hair before reaching to open the door. Your mother stands before you in all of her glory, decked out in a pair of black pumps, black jeans, and a navy blazer. It’s rather dressed down than what you’re used to seeing on her, but it almost makes you think that she can be normal-
“Why aren’t you dressed yet? I already picked out your dress and shoes. Hurry up and get them on so you can get going.” There is no air of softness around her and she turns on her newly bought heels and stalks away. You blink hard and bite at your lower lip before slowly stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind you. You try to ignore the feeling gnawing at your insides, attempting to keep in the heaviness on your shoulders as you make your way down the hall into your personal bathroom, quietly closing it behind you True to her word, your mother left a purple bodycon dress lying along the expansive sink next to an unopened box. You sigh and strip down for a quick shower, turning on the faucet and watching the water splash against the marble floor, wishing you could be washed down the drain just as quickly.
Stepping into the shower, you close your eyes and let the lukewarm water cascade down your frail form and try to muster a smile under the spray of water. Your mother made you diet before starting high school so that you could lose your ‘baby fat’ and ever since, she’d dress you as well. Not once did you tell her of the blisters the heels caused or how childish you felt at still being dressed by your mother at 15. It was like you lacked an identity when you were home; you were simply there as an ornament.
Drifting through the shower quickly, you pull a towel off of the sink and dry yourself off, peering at the vibrant purple dress with your undergarments also laid out beside it. You get dressed in a flurry, tying your hair into two buns and easing the heels on. Your feet reject them but you ignore the pain and stalk past the sink covered with boxes of makeup, deciding to forgo the daily routine because you’re already behind schedule. A pair of buttered toast is waiting for you downstairs and you pick them up before heading for the door, swiping up your backpack and slamming the door shut on your way out. Breathing in the fresh air, you try not to think of your ghost of a father or your controlling mother and instead turn to focusing on the day. The clouds cover up most of the pale sun but you don’t mind overcast, slipping on the straps of your backpack and taking a careful pace that won’t make you trip or be late in meeting Peter.
After a few blocks of walking, you begin to feel the comfortable pull of Peter’s end of the Bond and that’s when you truly feel free from the strings pulling you along. You finally start to smile when you reach the third block from school and see Peter at the corner waiting for you, his eyes glued to his phone before his head suddenly snaps up when you come into view. The look on his face at the sight of you is enough for you breathe easy while you carefully cross the road over to his side, hand extending out of mere habit. Peter reaches for your hand, gently lacing your fingers together as he takes in your appearance from head to toe. An adorable smile touches his mouth as he peers down at you adoringly and you can feel his words much better than anything he could say outloud and yet he always does.
“You look r-really pretty today, (y/n).” You give his hand a soft squeeze and balance on the tip of the heels to kiss at his cheek.
“Thank you, and I must say you look adorable today,” You tease, grinning at how easy it is to make him blush. The pair of you fall into a comfortable yet slow walk while you listen to Peter talk animatedly about the latest crime he managed to stop by getting there in the nick of time. This is your favorite part of the day; you get to bask in all that Peter is. He is kind, understanding, and braver than anyone else you knew. He took you away from it all, from all of the self doubt you kept inside and the way your parents ignore everything you are besides the way you look and speak. In these brief moments, you are just (y/f/n) (y/l/n), and your Bonded is Peter Parker, not Spiderman or one of the ridiculous slurs kids at school call him. You still don’t understand why they see what they want to instead of what’s really there; Peter is such a humble and encouraging person. Your guilt from the night before rears its ugly head.
“And I was all like- (y/n), are you o-okay?” His voice invades the little bubble of guilt and you quickly slip on the brightest smile you can manage, noticing that you’re closer to school than you thought.
“I’m fine, Parker. Since we’re about to be at school, are you free after? Maybe?” Despite dating for the past couple months, you’d yet to go on another date with such conflicting schedules as a hero and the daughter of a fashion mogul liked to use her daughter to try on different designs. Peter turns his head away, indicating that the answer would be a steadfast no .
“But… Mr. Stark could need me at any moment, you know- and I can’t let him.. Down. I’m sorry.” It’s not new, but it didn’t hurt to test it yet again. You repress the sigh right back down your throat and nod.
“I understand. Well, maybe we’ll see each other around school.” You pull him along, other students stepping onto campus at the end of the block.
“About that. Do you think that we could sit together? That way we’d have more time to spend together. ” It’s valid and true but you bite at your lip in response and release his hand.
“We’ll see, Parker. I do have a few things I have to do with student council for homecoming and a meeting with the business club,” You supply as an excuse even though you could easily get out of them if you wanted to. And why wouldn’t you if it would mean getting to spend more time with the person you might love?
You are just a little coward .
Peter curls his loose hand into a fist and follows after the girl that he loves, his heart sinking to mingle in the depths of his stomach. He’s not an idiot- sure some social cues may pass him by but her actions and more importantly, her Bond to him tells him everything he wants to know. It finally hit him when she let go of his hand that the real reason she didn’t want them to be seen together was due to her utter embarrassment at having him as her other half. It all began to make sense. She’d make excuses whenever he asked for them to spend time together during school or a free period or even when they have a class together and people have to partner up. She goes out of her way to stop walking with him exactly one block away from the school entrance so there’s less of a chance of someone she knows sees them holding hands.
You can feel peter staring at your rigid back as you pick up your pace, your feet aching already from the heels but the superficial smile on your face is passable. You see a few of your classmates and when they see you, they wave you over. You can’t help but glance back at Peter before strutting to the group who had paused in wait for you. And as much as the guilt ate away at you with each step that you took, you couldn’t help but think about what your parents would say if they knew. Would your father disown you? Would your mother think even less of you now than she did before?
But even more so, if Peter found out- no, when he does , would he want his Bond with you to sever forever? Keeping the bright smile on your face that you had practiced perfecting, you attempt to fall into your routine, stalking towards your locker with your friends by your side to put away your textbooks meant for classes later on. The more you try to block out your thoughts, the more it begins to bother you and if you kept it up, the small blockade you put up between you and Peter would break like a dam, all of your feelings splashing over the cracks to invade his space.
“Did you finish the assignment last night?” Betty asked from beside you, the sound of her locker slamming breaking you out of your reverie. You quickly close your locker and nod.
“Yeah, between trying on some new designs and my mother making me pose, I found a minute to do it,” You produce a joke to help calm down and Betty laughs before shaking her head.
“Your life must rock.”
You snort and follow after her to the first class of the day with your toes crying in protest. You kept thinking over what she said and how your life should be that way. You are given everything you could possibly ask for, but with those kind of perks came strings. You weren’t allowed to speak your mind or express your feelings because you father disregarded them and your mother was too busy or away to given them the value they deserved. You were surrounded by diamond earrings and fabrics that cost a fortune and never felt more… alone. Unwanted. Trapped. Your life has never been less yours than now, with the puppet strings glued on so tight that you can’t move without either parent knowing.
But it’s not that way with Peter. He makes you feel wanted, adored, but more importantly, you don’t feel alone when it’s just the two of you. He lets you talk about anything and everything and- he lets you cry on his shoulder, in his arms; he tells you you’re special, wholly and completely and that he would do anything to make you happy. Peter is so good- why did it have to be someone like you? Why did your name have to be ingrained in his skin, a small scrawl of a name because you are an extroverted introvert, timid when you are allowed to be with a mask of brightness to hide your faults. He deserves someone who could take his hand and march around campus because titles and labels didn’t matter.
You walk with your head held high, greeting students from other classes on your way to Math, stalking through the doorway before the first late bell and sliding into your seat in the front row. You kept your gaze low to stop it from instantly seeking out Peter, his slim frame sitting to the left of the room and in the third row. His aura is always calming, but you can feel a heaviness on his side of the bond peeking through your shield. He’s sad… and you are instantly aware that this is your doing. You glance back at him, just a small peek to see for yourself, and your eyes instantly meet sharp, dulled hazel before he turns away. You shift your attention to the start of the class, but nothing sinks in.
The only thing on your mind is that your cowardice was hurting someone you cared so much about. Class feels a thousand miles away as you pack up your books and duck out of the classroom, your heels creating a distinct sound against the ground with each step you take. With your set of books changed, you walk towards your science class, dreading the fact that it’s another class shared with Peter and the fact that people are alway swapping partners or being randomly partnered up. You and Peter had never had a chance to be together there because he partnered with Ned and you with Betty, but you concluded that if you couldn’t speak to him any other time that day, the this would have to be it. You needed to do something to dissuade whatever he had in his mind.. Even if he was right and you are awful.
You take the first available seat with the rest of the students filing into the classroom, Betty sitting down beside you without batting an eyelash. It’s an easy match, you are friends and you get along well, but when Mr. Harrington announced that there was a new science project and he wanted to change things up by switching everyone around, you knew that this was your only chance to move. Instead of randomly calling on people to switch seats, he produced a hat full of names from the left half of the room that the right side would pick from. You watch Betty reach in and pluck up a folded piece of paper before you reach in as well, nibbling at your lower lip as you carefully unfolded the paper. “Flash Thompson.” Your stomach plummets as Betty made a face beside you.
“Why do I have to get stuck with Parker for an entire project? Yeah, he’s smart but ew.” Her words are muttered under her breath and you ignore the pangs of guilt from earlier when you thought about never standing up for him when you could’ve.
“He’s brilliant,” you start, pursing you set your piece of paper on the table and slide it over to her, reaching to snatch her paper from her with a bit of vigor, “And he’s sweet. If you don’t want to be his partner, I will.” Her face of surprise makes pride swell in your chest as you quickly pack up your things. “And you shouldn’t talk about him like that just because everyone else does. You barely know him and he doesn’t deserve that.” Her silence greets you as the entire class breaks out into yells across the room while people began to switch spots and partners alike, some able to stay together by switching slips of paper while others hissed at having to change a spot. Amongst the madness, you find yourself slipping into the seat beside Peter Parker, his eyes widening in surprise making a small smile touch your lips.
“Hey there, partner.”
.x.
Being so close to Peter with so many people around felt… odd, not bad, but you can’t help but peek around to see if anyone is staring at you. You are so caught up in what others are thinking about when they see the two of you together that you can’t even bask in the moment. Your parents had repeatedly told you that your image was everything, the only thing that mattered was how you presented yourself to onlookers and even those who weren’t looking but would hear from another source.
“I guess now we can see e-each other now that we’re partners,” He murmured as the teacher spoke over the assignment, neither of you listening. He won’t look at you now, not even a glance, his shoulders slumped as he tried to write down what Mr. Harrington jots down on the whiteboard, his tone dejected.
“I-” But what could you say: Sorry that my parents can’t find out about this or else I’ll probably have to break up with you so I don’t want to be seen with you around our classmates or anyone in the school for that matter ? You might as well have said you were embarrassed about being seen with him even if it was furthest from the truth, “I’m sorry, Parker.” You nibble at your lower lip, tone hushed and full of things unspoken. Peter can hear the tremor in your voice, not needing any Spidey sense to know that you are apologetic. And he knows that you should be and he shouldn’t be so forgiving but it’s you, the girl he loved before the tattoo, before yours and his, before he even knew your name back in the sixth grade. He caves.
“I switched with Betty so that we could be partners. I wanted to. I-” You pause, unsure of how to articulate the thoughts ravaging your mind.
“I know.” And despite him getting the sense that there is still more you want to say, he reaches beneath the table to gently grasp at your hand, a bit afraid that you will push his hand away. But you don’t, ignoring the nerves and butterflies all sending your stomach into a frenzy as you clutch at his hand and scoot a bit closer. And it isn’t much, holding his hand beneath the table close enough for no one else to see, but it is a start. The two of you lace fingers and begin to talk about how to do the project, scooting closer without realizing it, both tattoos warm to the touch. The rest of class speeds by at a comfortable place with Peter drawing tiny patterns on your thigh under the table while you laugh softly at his babbling through one of the problems. For the first time, you are comfortable enough to simply relax and enjoy his company despite there being so many people around. You don’t want to care so much about them; you love this look on Peter Parker’s face, his eyes bright, mouth curled up into a bright smile while you hunched over the assignment.
But there is only so much time in a class and just when you are cozying up to his side, the bell is suddenly ringing and breaking the spell cast over you. Your fingers untangle from his own and you bite at your lower lip as you gather materials and shove them into your textbook quickly. Peter can sense your wavering feelings despite how much you try to keep him at bay. He collects his books much slower, watching you try to ignore him even if it’s futile.
“(y/n), are you sure you w-want to work with me on this? I can switch if-”
“I do,” A weak response in comparison to everything that you want to say, “I promise I do, Peter. In fact,” quick, think of something, “Why don’t we have lunch together and outline the project?” The words escape before you can stop them because all you’ve ever wanted was to eat by his side surrounded by other students. Plus, it was a bonus to see that smile again, all shiny and sweet.
“Yeah, okay! I’ll wait for you outside of your class and we can walk together? And I can carry our trays- And you can pick our spot.” His all too apparent enthusiasm calms the lingering worry that began to settle. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be together even if it’s just between these insignificant halls. Your paranoia could all be a front for your fear of losing popularity and not exactly your parent’s opinions. Peter deserved more than this and you needed to try and do better. You nod enthusiastically, your Bond relaxing somewhat. You fall into a comfortable walk beside him with not even the pain in your heels bothering you as much as before and you keep your eyes on his face to keep you from looking around. Were people already beginning to judge you for being by his side? Did anyone care?
“I’ll be waiting right h-here for you after class,” Peter assured you with another smile, fingers clutching at his books to fight off the impulse to hug her. You sense it anyway and grin before gently nudging his shoulder as you pass him, standing by the door and glancing back.
“You better be.”
Betty shifts past you without a word when you step into the classroom, rolling her eyes on her way. She’d always been a fickle person but it was kind of surprising to see her react that way towards you. Shrugging to yourself, you step over to your seat beside her and place down your books, her cold shoulder expanding as she stared ahead.
“Really, Betty? Are you mad that I decided not to be your partner?” You didn’t do confrontation often but you also weren’t afraid to speak. It would make things a lot less awkward.
“Why would you pick to partner up with Parker? He’s such a loser. I could’ve just switched and we could’ve been partners instead.” You felt the flare of annoyance grow from listening to her badmouth him and if you let her, what did that make you? You never stood up for him when it matter, never once stepped outside of your bubble to protect his feelings the way you should be. You were sick of letting that shit slide. And as much as you cared about Betty, her petty feelings about Peter were too childish to be substantial.
“I don’t understand what it is you and everyone else can’t see. You don’t even know him. You don’t talk to him or interact with him so how would you know what he’s like?”
“And you’re saying you do, (y/n)? Just because you decided to be his partner doesn’t mean you suddenly know. Stop defending the little weirdo.” Betty dismissed it and you sat back in your chair, feeling the rage bubble up inside of you and threatening to implode. But she had a point; no one else had ever seen you with him so defending him did seem off. To them, you didn’t know him and he was no one in your life.
That was what you did with your selfish actions.
“Just stop talking about him like that. He doesn’t deserve it,” You muttered by her side as the class began, cutting off her response. You weren’t sure you would even care about what else she had to say. Class felt sluggish now that Peter was not a warm constant by your side and you found yourself drifting in and out of the anatomy course, carelessly doodling while Betty meticulously jotted down everything Mrs. Mcavoy spoke. Even after class, you still feel this tingling sensation in the back of your mind, a sense of loss now that Peter is nowhere in sight. Maybe it was your Bond acting wonky from your conflicted feelings. One moment you didn’t want him near you by any means and the next you are quietly pining after him when he is no longer around. God, you didn’t want to be a typical teenager and give into your wavering feelings, but every time you saw your mother or father, the thought of Peter being with you in a meaningful way suddenly felt less.. Good. Then the moment he was within reach, holding you, brushing your hair back from your eyes just to stare at you… how could you not fall in love with him?
You shove papers and books into your bag the moment the teacher dismisses everyone, shouldering the weight and stalking past Betty with an, “I’ll see you later, Bets.” You didn’t want to get into another catty disagreement over her being cruel to Peter.True to his word, his lean form is waiting just outside the door with his shoulder leaning against a locker. He looked breathless like he’d been running for hours instead of the stretch it took from the P.E. building to her classroom. Clutching your books to your chest, you peer at Peter and try to hold off the blush, your blood coming to a boil at the sight of him grinning at you. He pushes off the locker and falls into your pace as if he’d been walking beside you for a long time and just like that- the world fell away. You could no longer hear the students bustling and running around you trying to put away books for lunch or feel the stares against the side of your face because this is the first time you’ve ever walked and talked with Peter in front of the student body before.
It felt wonderful to see him so excited, his eyes bright and mouth stuttering over this and that while he tried to keep his pace slow because he’s mindful of how your shoes hurt your feet. He opens the door leading out onto the grounds and across from the cafeteria; you feel your fingers tingle with the want to hold his hand, to kiss him softly in front of a crowd that shouldn’t matter. Instead, you ball your hand into a fist against your books. You weren’t ready to open up that can of worms just yet.
“What made you decide that this was… something you wanted to do? Everyone is looking at you.” And won’t your friends judge you? The silent question is loud through your Bond, the words a sort of sensation that slips over your flesh and makes you glance over at him.
“They can judge me all they want but I won’t let them control how I feel or who I want to spend my time with, Parker. And if they’re really my friends, wouldn’t they want me to be happy?” You both share a brief look before a snort leaves the both of you chuckling to yourselves. In this school, it was easy to gain and lose a friend in a matter of minutes. People were fickle or just plain flaky- thinking about how much you yearned for their approval left a bad taste in your mouth.
“Either way, I’m happy. I know we don’t get to spend much time together here or after school because of the internship. I really want to make it up to you.” Ever the gentleman, Peter opens the door entering the cafeteria for you and you lead him over to the growing line of ravenous teens waiting to eat whatever the school had to offer. More often than not, it was edible, good even, because the Academy had a way with putting funds towards food for the future “leaders” of the world. Peter steps behind you and you move through the line smoothly with your arms still clutched on your books, listing off each food as you pass it and Peter dotingly placing it on the tray. Even with your pompous ways, Peter takes it in stride, carrying your tray as well as his own and following you while you sought out a table. You pick one that you usually sit at with Betty, not thinking about the repercussions.
The moment Betty set her eyes on Peter, her tray in hand, she scoffs and stalked off to sit with a different group of mutual friends, shooting you a dirty look as she sat down between two jocks. Through your Bond, you can tell that Peter is rethinking this whole arrangement, worried that you being with him could ruin the standing with your friends, but you set down your books and sneakily reach for his fingers under the table, using your other hand to reach for a fork. The meal is a lot better than usually, probably because of all the funding from high paying parent, and you carefully dig into a steaming plate of macaroni, trying to ignore Peter peering at you from the corner of his eyes.
“I was thinking- maybe we could get a head start on that project today? After school?” The question is murmured softly but you hear it through the bustling of students around you. The idea of being alone with Peter makes your tattoo twinge and you gently squeeze his hand, understanding that this is a massive step for him considering how dedicated he is to his internship. The idea that he is turning down the chance to swing into action to simply spend time with you, the ordinary one, makes you want to kiss him uncontrollably.
“Can we go to your place?” You ask with a grin perched on your lips while you try to fight off the growing glee. You knew that at any time he may have to leave to fight off someone or save New York, but even having a moment alone with him would be worth it. And you would rather be at his place to avoid the possibility of him having to meet your parents because deep down you knew that the day they found out about him- they’d say anything, do anything, to get him away from you.
The rest of the school day ended uneventfully save for the glances from Betty through the rest of your shared classes. She refused to speak another word to you and as much as it bothered you, you refused to back down. If she didn’t want to stop being cruel for absolutely no reason besides staying with the crowd, you didn’t want to deal with it. It sucked that she felt like you were choosing Peter over her when really- you were calling out childish behavior. You shift around her for the rest of the day but no one else seems to notice your distance. You still smile and wave, your feet aching at the end of the day when you carefully stepped down the staircase leading onto the street. Peter is waiting off to the side, his expression a bit nervous and his end of the Bond buzzing with rapidly changing emotions. You try to ignore what feels like stares against your back when you step in his direction. No one will care that you are walking beside Peter Parker after school, no one will care that you look happier and more animated and that his smile makes your entire frame relax and open up.
No one will care that you are forgetting yourself and the rules you put in motion when you take Peter’s hand in view, too comfortable and sliding into the comfort of the Bond to realize that people are always watching.
And that you standing up for yourself always comes with consequences.
PT 1/2