Chapter 2
P: mary i’m sorry for being a dumbass
P: please talk to me
Most of the time, Peter had a general sense of self appreciation. He was proud of himself for taking down the Vulture, proud of himself for fighting against Thanos, and proud of himself for being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Peter tried his hardest not to get too cocky, and personally, he thought he was succeeding.
There were other times, though, when he wanted to slam his head against a wall. Times when Peter swore he was the dumbest personal alive. May, instead, just called him “absentminded.”
How could he have forgotten to switch accounts? At first, he even debated if he should tweet it at all, because no one at school really cared what Peter Parker did with his Friday nights. He liked documenting his life, though. It made everything, although certainty fleeting, feel permanent.
So, he prepared to post it. He took thirty different pictures with different angles and different expressions until his aunt May took notice, where she then wrapped her arm around his neck and smiled giddily. “Send that to me, yeah? I need a new picture for my office, everyone thinks you’re still in middle school.”
“I’d bet I could pull that off,” Peter joked, setting his phone down on the couch.
She surveyed his face. “Oh, I guess you could.” His jaw dropped as May broke out in laughter. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. Gosh, when did you get so sensitive? Does Ned want pizza or Chinese?”
“Uh, let me text him.” He exited his camera app and texted his friend, who simply replied CHINESE! CHICKEN LO MEIN! Peter softly chucked and told his aunt, adding, “I’ll have--”
“I know what you’ll have,” May said with a comforting smile, and turned down the hallway.
Peter couldn’t remember when he last opened his personal account. Two weeks ago? Two months ago? His main focus, these past eight or so months, had been on Mary-- talking to her, making her laugh, thinking about her.
He didn’t think about her like that. Or, he didn’t think so. Mary was just his best friend; he told her everything. Everything except the facts that Peter was Peter and that he was Spider-Man-- but eventually he would have told her everything.
And because he has the worst luck, she discovered the former earlier than Peter had planned. He picked up his phone, without checking anything, and tweeted the pictures. Ned knocked on his door at that moment.
For two hours and seven minutes-- the duration it took to watch The Empire Strikes Back in its entirety-- Peter hadn’t touched his phone. Not one little peek at his notifications. He was entirely unaware of the shitstorm he had started.
When he finally turned his phone on, he was swarmed with notifications. Peter furrowed his eyebrows as he read the comments, confused on why a bunch of people from his school not only bothered to retweet him, but also tell him that he’s hot. (Something that no one had ever told him before.)
And then he finally looked at their icons and usernames. The blood rushed to his face in embarrassment as he tried to find Mary’s response.
Peter never found it, though. She didn’t even DM him. In fact, the only thing she did was unfollow him.
“You’re fucking kidding,” he groaned quietly, dropping his phone to his lap and resting his head in his hands.
“What’s wrong, Pete?” Ned, whilst eating his chicken lo mein, asked.
Peter shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He never mentioned Mary to Ned before; not because Ned wouldn’t understand, because Peter knew without a doubt that he would. It’s just that when Ned, and May, found out that he was Spider-Man, they talked about it constantly. He explained everything he’d ever done in the costume and how the Avengers acted outside of their costume and, frankly, it was a lot.
Not telling Ned about Mary made their relationship more personal. The moment Peter opened his mouth about it, he’d have to delve into the million of questions Ned would have. Most of the time, Peter enjoyed them. He didn’t foresee himself enjoying that batch.
“It’s something. You’ve got that intense ‘I hate myself’ look.” Ned gestured to his face and Peter self-consciously touched his cheek. “Did you hear what MJ said when you went to the bathroom with your, uh, super hearing and all?”
“What? What’d she say?”
Ned’s eyes grew wide and he stammered to avoid answering. “Uh, n-nothing. What’d who say? Let’s talk about you now.”
“I’m terrible at keeping secrets,” Peter, deciding not to press, said after letting out a groan. “It’s almost like I am subconsciously sabotaging my life. So I met this girl, right?” Ned nodded and winked; Peter threw popcorn at him. “No, not like that. We met online on my update account for myself--”
“Holy shit, you still use that?” his friend interrupted, taking out his phone to open Twitter. “‘Spider-Man spotted at Grand Central, taking selfies with fans!’ Four hours ago. Hey, how come you haven’t let me get my Spider-Man picture?”
Peter yanked Ned’s phone from his hands and put it underneath the couch cushion. “Dude, focus for a second. Anyways, she goes to our school and she didn’t want everyone know that she has a stan account for Spider-Man, so she told me her name is Mary. And I swear to god, Ned-- she’s the most funny and genuine and- and spectacular person I’ve ever talked to. But I fucking posted a selfie--”
“The one directed at me? Those were good ones.” Peter gave Ned a glare. “Sorry. Is she mad? Does she hate you?”
“She unfollowed me. Won’t answer my texts, either.”
Ned shrugged. “Maybe real life Mary hates real life Peter’s guts.”
“Nobody gives that much of a shit about me to hate my guts, expect Flash. But I feel like he doesn’t really hate me, he just is insecure and I’m an easy target, y’know?”
“I mean, there is someone else.”
“Who?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Parker,” Ned said in a feminine, mocking tone, making Peter scoff. “I’m serious! She’s on your ass all the time. You should hear what she says when you’re not around.”
“Michelle’s a robot programmed to yell at me. Wait-- what does she say when I’m not around?” Peter checked his phone again, the only notification being from yet another person complimenting his curly hair.
He waved Peter off again. “Nothing. MJ really isn’t that bad, Peter. And she’s not a robot, she’s got many emotions that she keeps hidden away for... reasons. Also, who is to say that robots don’t have feelings? C-3PO had many emotions!”
“He got annoyed at R2 constantly, and that’s it. Anyways, Ned, Michelle is not Mary. There’s no way.”
“Can you just do one thing for me? To test my theory, since we’re young budding scientists?” Ned gaudily straightened out his shirt, and it made Peter chuckle. Only a little bit, though, however Ned still noticed. He gained a proud look on his face. “Just say a few things around her that only Mary--and I-- would know. But make it so that their kind of wrong so she has to correct you. MJ loves correcting you.”
Peter knew that Michelle Jones wasn’t Mary. He knew it. The probability of it was absolutely astronomical--the only person in the world who he can’t share a room with is one of his best friends? No fucking way. That’s why he said yes, because he knew his tests were going to turn out in his favor.
He knew it in his guts.
michellerjones: boys are liars i can’t believe this happened to me
nleeeeds: @parkerpeter LOOK AT THIS. LOOK. I’M TELLLING YOU. I’M RIGHT
Michelle thought about Peter all weekend.
She thought about what she was going to say to him. She thought about if this changed anything—which she decided that it didn’t. She thought about Ned’s stupid reply on her tweet.
Michelle also thought about how many times she comforted him while he was crying, thought about how she knew all of his insecurities and his whole history without even knowing it was him. Michelle understood, at least partially, why Peter was the way he was.
But it was all bullshit. Not what he said—what he said was all true— but the fact that she knew it all. Michelle knew his deepest darkest secrets and she wasn’t supposed to know anything.
Sitting across from Peter in European history made her feel guilty, something she didn’t expect to feel. She usually didn’t care for him at all until Decathlon. Michelle hardly noticed when he was late to history, she didn’t notice that he wore beat up, hand me down shoes until that day, and she began to wonder if those were his uncle’s.
An uncle Mary knew about. Not Michelle.
She tried ignoring her little pestering thoughts—until lunch. After catching herself watching him a few times, Michelle shoved her book into her bag and stormed out of the lunchroom. She couldn’t possibly like Peter, could she? Not romantically, definitely not, but she felt an urge to talk to him. Like, a real conversation. It wouldn’t be them yelling at each other, she wanted to sit down across from him and tell him about her day.
Michelle felt sorry for him. His parents died, his uncle died, and there were only two people in his life he was close to: Ned and his aunt. Actually, make that three: Ned, his aunt, and Michelle.
Then came fourth period, and Peter wasn’t there. When the sub called out roll, there was no obnoxious “Present!” coming from the seat behind her. Any other day and Michelle wouldn’t have cared. But— he was at lunch, and in first period, and he didn’t look sick in either of them. Did May pull him out of school? Why would she need to do that?
Michelle picked and picked at her orange nail polish—something she did, on a whim, that weekend—and anxiously bounced her leg as she watched the door. He would think it to be weird if she texted him. Maybe she could say it was Decathlon business? Emergency meeti—
Suddenly, the door busted open. Peter waltzed in, an apologetic grin spread across his face; in between his fingers he held a hall pass. “Sorry I’m late, sir. Stark internship business.”
“No big deal, Mr…” the sub, Mr. Wallow, looked at Peter’s pass. “Mr. Parker! You were on the school website last week, weren’t you? Midtown student a hero! Saves preschooler from being ran over. That was very brave.”
“It was nothing,” he pridefully said, and Michelle’s sympathy was washed away in an instant.
When Peter turned to walk to his seat, she looked up at him for a split second. His eye was black and swollen, and she knew it wasn’t like that during lunch.
“What the hell is up with your eye?” she hissed, turning around and resting her elbow on his desk.
Peter slammed his textbook on his desk. “It’s nothing.”
“Like saving a kid is nothing?” Michelle mocked. “I’m serious, Parker. Your eye.”
He scowled at her. “Why do you care, Michelle? You’ve never asked me before.”
“I don’t care. Frankly, I couldn’t give a shit what you do in your free time. I am asking as your Decathlon captain, making sure you won’t become incarcerated before the meet.”
He stared at her for maybe four, five seconds. Could he tell that she was lying? Michelle was actually, genuinely worried; it made her sick to her stomach that she cared that much.
“Really, it’s nothing,” Peter said, softly. “I fell down the steps and hit myself in the eye this time.”
“This time?”
A slight smirked graced his face and he shrugged his shoulders. “It’d be illegal to tell you everything.”
Weirdly, she laughed. She never really laughed at his jokes, and it made Peter tilt his head in confusion. “Sure, Parker.”
“Um…” He gazed at her, a little bit longer than he should have. “C-Can I ask you a question?”
She stared back at him. Her mouth slightly ajar, her voice cracking when she began to talk, Michelle was embarrassed. “I have to work on my packet, actually, so…”
“Oh! Right. Yeah, cool. Maybe later.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Michelle could still feel Peter looking at her even when she turned around.
spideyupdates: Spider-Man stopped a bank robbery at 1:30 today. Go Spidey!
NLeeeeds: @spideyupdates he was doing this while i was in calc? this is bull
In fifth period, she ignored her work and mainly surveyed Peter. He had terrible posture and a problem with touching his hair, and his attention was everywhere except his work. He’d lean over to Ned and whisper a joke, or draw on his hand, and he got up to sharpen his pencil seven times.
Seven times.
Michelle felt like she was betraying her father for thinking about a boy this much. He had raised her to do the exact opposite--“Girls who only think about boys only get pregnant, not a Harvard acceptance letter.”--and generally, she thought the same. Boys didn’t really matter to Michelle.
Indirectly, she had started to care about Peter Parker. She was going to get over that, though.
“MJ! Hey, MJ, wait up,” Ned called after her when class ended. She stopped at the first row of lockers and noticed Peter was trailing behind. “Peter and I have movie nights every Wednesday and Friday--”
“Dude, what are you doing?” Peter tried interrupting, but Ned carried on.
“--usually it’s just the two of us. Sometimes Peter’s aunt. Would you like to come? You can pick the movie.” Ned, pleadingly, smiled at her. Behind him, Peter was shaking his head.
“I don’t think that’s the best--”
“Please? We never hang out, and I think it’s a missed opportunity that we aren’t closer.” Peter was mouthing say no.
Distancing herself from him was the best option that Michelle had. However, Peter really didn’t want her there. Maybe doing what she normally would’ve done was better. “I’ll be there.”
“Great! Peter, text her the address. Bye, MJ, see you tomorrow!” They walked away from her, and Peter must have said something like What the fuck? because Ned shouted, “I’m helping you!”
Helping him with what?
parkerpeter: hey, michelle. it’s peter. look, you really don’t have to come on wednesday
michellerjones: what? of course i do, parker. it’ll be fun watching you have a bad time