Chapter 6
peter
He walks out of the main door and sees Gwen sitting on the front steps. This is the second fight they’re going to be having out here, and probably the last they’ll ever have.
Peter clears his throat. Gwen doesn’t turn around, even when he says, “What’d she tell you?”
“I stopped her at the Fourth of July. She really unloaded everything on me,” Gwen lets out a scoff, “Including what happened tonight.”
“Gwen--” Peter walks a pace forward. She shakes her head, and did he hear her struggling to breathe a bit? Is she crying?
“Don’t. I’m just here to give you all your stuff back.” She picks up a box that was sitting at her feet and doesn’t turn around when she places it behind her. He can see a few sweatshirts in it, the phone case Gwen borrowed, and a yellow crop top that was not his.
“This isn’t mine,” he says quietly. He can’t get out all the apologies he wants to say to her.
“Some of the things in there are-- are um,” her voice wavers and she rubs her eyes. “They’re Michelle’s. I’m sure you’ll be seeing her soon, anyways.”
“I am--”
“‘So sorry.’ Whatever you said, she already told me. Don’t bother.” She lifts herself up and starts walking away.
“Gwen, please just listen to me. Thirty seconds. And I promise not to talk to you again.” She stops walking but keeps her back turned to Peter, and he takes that as his que to speak. “I can’t apologize enough. You didn’t deserve that, and you deserve so much better than me, you deserve so much, Gwen. A guy who really loves you.”
She turns around, finally looking at him, and interrupts his thirty seconds. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are tear stained and Peter wants to reverse time so she wouldn’t have to feel like this. “Were you just using me to make her jealous? Was this just a twisted revenge plot?”
“No, Gwen.”
“Cut the bullshit, Peter. She told me what you said about how you never stopped loving her. So were you just with me to get over her?” Peter looks down at his feet. “It didn’t work then, did it? Fuck you, Peter. Fuck you and fuck her and fuck all the times you two acted like you cared about me.”
Peter acts fast and tries to put all the words in his head into coherent sentences. He doesn’t want her to forgive her-- in all honesty, he doesn’t deserve it-- he wants Gwen to not be upset. And he knows that all the words in the English dictionary won’t help, but it’s worth a shot.
“We do care about you,” he starts, his voice cautious. Gwen rolls her eyes but stays to hear what he has to say. “And we should’ve told you about what happened last year, but-- But honestly, Gwen, you and I--” He pauses. “I never should have said yes when you asked me out. It wasn’t fair to you, because I was still in love with her, and I liked you, but--”
“That’s great to hear,” she sarcastically remarks, her voice wavering and her eyes welling up again. “I loved you, Peter. When I was with you I felt like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. And all the boys I dated before had superiority complexes and would tear me down to make themselves feel better, but you--”
“Gwen…” Peter tries to say, but his voice gives out when he opens his mouth.
“You were the only one who treated me with respect. I should’ve known that you’re just a pig like the rest of them. Don’t talk to me on Monday. And you can pass that message along to your little girlfriend, okay?” A tear rolls down her cheek when she says her last words, she doesn’t bother to wipe it away, and Peter has never felt worse.
He watches her walk away and considers suiting up and following her home, just in case she accidentally stumbles onto trouble. As he watches her go further and further, though, he decides against it. If she saw him, she’d hate him even more (if that’s possible.)
Peter grabs the box of his and Michelle’s stuff and walks back up the stairs to his apartment. He knows he won’t be able to sleep, or concentrate on any homework, so he divides what is his and what is not. Peter finds a shirt he’s been looking for for a while and three books that belong to him, so nothing monumental. MJ, though, has a necklace, a bunch of notes paperclipped together that they must’ve gave each other in school last year, a drawing MJ gave to Gwen, and on the very bottom is a sketchbook that Peter’s never seen before. On the inside of the cover, Gwen wrote: So you never run out of paper, I also gave you $20. I love you best friend, happy 18th! She must have taken out the $20.
Peter bursts into tears. He cries and cries until May runs out of her room, having heard him, and envelopes him into a hug, where he cries some more. Peter ruined everything. He ruined things with Gwen and probably sent her into years of self doubt, he ruined Gwen’s relationship with MJ and Peter knows how much Michelle cares for Gwen, and how happy she was to finally have someone she can really talk to (other than Peter, but that’s besides the point.) And he probably ruined things with MJ, too. Maybe Ned, if he does the smart thing and sides with Gwen when she tells everyone what happened on Monday.
“It’s okay,” May whispers, rocking her nephew back and forth. “Everything’s going to work out eventually.”
___
michelle
“MJ, if you’re going to stay here tonight, you have to try to not let my parents know,” Ned says from the bottom of the bed. She let him back into his room an hour ago, thinking it was selfish to lock herself in. She still hasn’t answered any of his questions, besides when he asked if she wanted water. “It’s just that they’d kill me if they knew I have a girl in my room.”
Michelle nods, “No, I get it. Not every parent is an Aunt May.” They both let out a chuckle, which is soon replaced with a weird silence. “So I can stay here tonight? If my parents catch me sneaking in--”
“It’s all good. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He reaches around and grabs a pillow and throws it on the ground. When Ned goes for a blanket, Michelle wraps her hands around it.
“No, Ned. I will.” She tugs a bit on the blanket hoping he’ll let go.
“You’ve had a rough night,” he starts, “and besides, the guest gets the bed. That’s why whenever my uncle stays with us I sleep on the couch.”
“Ned, I’m sleeping on the floor,” she says sternly. His floor isn’t uncomfortable, at least from what she can remember. Two years ago, Ned’s parents went out of town, so he invited her and Peter over, and she fell asleep on the floor on accident. It’s a grey carpet and soft against your feet, and there’s no way she’s letting him sleep on the ground. Even if it was rock solid wood, she would still argue until he gave up.
Ned lets go of the blanket. “Fine. But let me get some other blankets for you to sleep on.” He stands up, opens his door quietly, and tiptoes his way to the closet.
Meanwhile, Michelle’s phone starts to vibrate next to her. PETER PARKER is calling, her phone says, with a backdrop of his face. She hesitates when she goes to grab it. Even though she wants to, Peter is the last person she should be talking to right now. Michelle might still have a chance to right things with Gwen, and that might be more important than a boy.
She waits for the notification of a voicemail, and she puts her phone up to her ear to listen. “Um, hey, MJ. This is a little weird but, uh, Gwen came by and dropped a bunch of my stuff off and there’s a bunch of your things in here too. And-- and I know you’re at Ned’s but I won’t come around and bother you.” Peter takes a long pause, long enough for Michelle to check if he ended the voicemail there, but he continues eventually. “I’m really sorry for tonight. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
His voice goes dead again, and this time when Michelle checks, there’s nothing of the voicemail left.
___
For two weeks, Michelle was able to avoid Peter, Gwen, and almost everyone else that knew of what happened that night. (That includes Cindy, who has been snubbing her in the halls anyways, and Ned. Michelle still talks to Ned, though, when Peter isn’t around.) She never asked for her things back, but one night after coming home from school, she finds the box on her bed. Michelle has yet to go through it. She, also, told Mr. Harrington that there was a family emergency that included her, so she couldn’t attend Decathlon practice until further notice.
Those two weeks were the slowest of her life. She felt so lonely. Those first two days at school, people would walk up to Michelle asking, “Why did Gwen hit you?” but she never said anything back. They weren’t interested in talking to her, either, they were interested in being in on the drama. So she was still isolated from her friends, the only people she really had in life, and it sucked.
Peter texts her everyday. He always apologizing and wondering what he can do so Michelle won’t be mad at him, because he misses her book recommendations, or so he said. And she isn’t mad at him. She doesn’t trust herself to talk to him everyday without kissing him, now that she’s reminded of the feeling.
Michelle knows he and Gwen are broken up. Ned told her during lunch once when Peter was gone. “Oh,” she said. “Okay.”
Ned rolled his eyes and told her to “get your man back.” Before they could delve more into the topic, Michelle said she had cramps and needed to go to the nurse. She wasn’t going to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about it.
Everything was going fine until one night when she got home. Her parents’ argument raged on for hours, so long that it was nine and they hadn’t started dinner. Their screams drowned out the other usual sounds that came from her apartment complex, like the dubstep from the person upstairs or the creaking pipes. Michelle heard, “Ungrateful slut mother with an ungrateful slut daughter,” coming from her father. And, after the fourteen days Michelle had just endured, she decides it’s the final straw for her. Who knows how far she’s gonna go, or if she’ll even stay gone, but she pulls down a suitcase from her closet and shoves a bunch of her clothes in it.
With that in hand and her backpack on, she just walks out of her room and through the front door, and they don’t say anything. To her, at least. Her mother was too preoccupied yelling, “Well, I hope she gave you herpes, Ronald.”
Michelle just starts walking in a random direction, letting her subconscious drive her. It takes her a dozen blocks before she realizes where she’s going, and she takes a sharp turn to avoid it. Alas, it was too late, because as soon as she turns, Spider-Man lands in front of her. “Where are you going?” he wearily demands.
“Oh, hey, dude.” She gives Peter a half nod and can feel the knots in her stomach intensify. “I’m giving my stuff to Goodwill. Charity.”
“At ten thirty? Michelle, really, where are you going?”
“I’m waiting for a sign to tell me to go to the bus station to get out of Queens.” She’s only kind of joking when she said that.
“What about your parents?”
“I’ve been gone an hour and they haven’t called. They don’t give a shit about me.” She leans against the brick wall, avoiding eye contact with him.
“I’m sure that’s not true.” He scoffs a bit. Everybody in Peter’s life wanted him, but his parents died when he was little, and his uncle a few years ago. Aunt May has loved him for the three of them, and also for herself. She doesn’t think he fully grasps the fact that some parents don’t love their kids. “Anyways, what about school? Decathlon? Your friends?”
“I can enroll on online classes and get my degree and I’ll still be able to go to Columbia, if they accept me. Decathlon-- I kind of quit that. My friends I successfully pushed them all away.” He stammers for something to say, but there’s nothing left to talk about. She’s convincing herself more and more that this can work.
“What about me?”
“Really, P--” she stops and looks around to see if anyone was walking by them. “Really, Peter? It’s been two weeks since we last talked and you have the audacity to say that?”
“Hey, I tried! I texted you over and over--”
“You should’ve gotten the message! Or is your skull too thick?” Her voice booms and echos somewhat, and it makes Peter step back. It hurts to imagine what his brown eyes look like under that mask right now.
“Are you afraid of hurting Gwen again?” he speaks quietly, and at some point she heard his voice crack.
Michelle furrows her eyebrows. “Yes. Very much so, dude.” She isn’t sure where the ‘dude’ thing is coming from, maybe it’s just because she can’t call him Peter right now.
“Ned talked to Gwen and she said she doesn’t care what we do. And we don’t have to date or anything, I just want to talk to you, again.”
“Did she say it like, ‘Oh, I don’t care what they do. It isn’t my business.’ Or, ‘No I don’t care what the hell they do, it’s not my fucking business.’ Because those are very different ways of saying it.”
“God, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. It doesn’t matter, anyways, Michelle. We did what we did, and no matter if you wish to be able to change it, you can’t. Horrible person or not,” he tries to lighten the mood but sees Michelle’s face remain stoic and continues, “You don’t belong on the streets.”
“Arguable,” she says it so quietly she’s not even sure if she heard it.
He did hear it, however, by whatever superpowered way he possesses. “Why do you think you aren’t worthy of good things, MJ? Just because you said and did a few bad things doesn’t mean you--”
“You don’t get it, Peter.” She takes a risk by saying his name. Michelle hadn’t seen someone walk by them recently, and who knew how many Peter’s there are in Queens. “From day one, your parents hardwired into you that you were loved and wanted and that there was nothing that could stop them from cherishing their son. And even when they passed, you had two people that were just as loving and supporting and took you in as their son. My parents told me over and over that I’m a mistake, that they never wanted me, that I’m an unlovable little girl. You try hearing that every day and never believe it.”
This isn’t how she wanted to tell Peter about her home life. She’d always imagined it being some thought out and well articulated plan, not standing next to a scary looking alleyway while practically sobbing out her every word.
“Michelle--” he takes a step towards her, his arms outstretched going to grab her, but she rapidly shakes her head.
“Don’t touch me,” Michelle whispers out.
“I’m so sorry. But, they’re wrong, Michelle. They’re so, so wrong. And I’m also sorry because I can’t just let you leave like this. I’m taking you to talk to May.”
“Wh--” He pulls her close with his web shooters and holds her there, and then they launch in the air.
___
Peter is shocked when he finds out that May’s known about Michelle’s situation for a long time. “Excuse me? You never did anything?” He’s changed out of his Spider-Man suit and is now in sweatpants and a sweater.
“She always begged me not to,” May says, comfortably holding onto Michelle’s hand. “I always offered her a place to sleep, or even live, but she always refused.”
A few years ago, before Michelle and Peter’s fling started, she had snuck out of the house after another terrible fight with her parents. She wondered the city for a while, just trying to clear her head, when she accidentally rammed her shoulder into May Parker, making her groceries splatter all across the sidewalk. When Michelle cried about it, May said over and over that it wasn’t a big deal, that she gets unusually big discounts on her groceries. Michelle, when she had somewhat calmed down, rashly told her that she was crying about her shitty parents.
And for a while, it was nice to console in someone. May tried to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault, and that she could always kick Peter to the couch for a night, or even a week. Once she even threatened to call CPS, but Michelle quickly said, “No! No it’s fine. Don’t call. Please?” She felt in debt to her parents for some reason, even though they were terrible to her, and she couldn’t bare it if she was responsible for them getting in trouble.
May seemed to understand, and again stressed on having an empty room for her available.
Then, Michelle started things up with Peter, and it felt awkward to talk to May in private. The last time she talked to May about her parents was a few months after she ended things, and Michelle felt uncomfortable to be in his house again. She never talked to May about it again, until now.
“It wasn’t even the worst it’s ever been,” Michelle admits, feeling very aware of every move Peter makes. “But after everything that’s happened recently, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Oh, honey, I heard. And let me just say, stop pushing everyone away.” May’s voice turns stern and it makes Michelle dart her head up to look at her, because that is not what she expected her to say. “I know you’ve been beating yourself up about this whole thing so I won’t add to it, however, when you’re alone in this world everything is so much harder. Trust me, I know. Ask for forgiveness from Gwen, and if she doesn’t give it to you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of pursuing happiness without her.”
“But--”
“But nothing, sweetheart. The only thing I want for you is to be happy,” May leans forward on her chair and throws her arms around Michelle, pulling her into a long hug. “And you’re staying the night. I, also, don’t want you on the streets this late at night. Peter, make a bed for yourself on the couch.”
“Got it, May,” Peter says enthusiastically. He returns with a few blankets and a pillow in a quick minute, then plops them on the couch without care. “Do you want me to replace the sheets on my bed for you, M?”
“It’s fine,” Michelle responds, even though she’s hoping he knows better and doesn’t listen to her.
“I’ll do it anyways.”
Next to her, May tells Michelle that she’s headed for bed. “Wake me if there are any issues, okay?” Michelle nods, but knows she won’t need to, because the next few minutes are consumed by Peter running back and forth, trying to make her feel comfortable here. He’s doing it out of guilt, and she knows it. Peter feels guilty because he should have assumed something was wrong at home, but he never did, so he’s trying to make up for it by offering to make her spaghetti when it’s nearing midnight. At least, that what Michelle thinks. He did offer to make spaghetti, which she said yes to, but then he realized they didn’t have any noodles.
“I can make mac and cheese,” Peter tells her after looking through his cabinets. “Unless you want something else, but I’d have to get May up--”
“Mac and cheese sounds good, Peter.”
As he starts boiling the water, Michelle rests her head on the counter in front of her. She’s so tired, but also starving, and if she had one more second of silence she might pass out. She didn’t get that, though.
“I--I know it’s not any of my business,” Peter starts after almost dropping the pot of water in the sink. “But, why’d you tell May and not me? I mean, you hardly know her.” There’s a hint of bitterness hiding behind his concern.
“You had this way of looking at me, that I was perfect and my whole life was perfect and if I told you, I was just convinced that you wouldn’t look at me like that anymore. Instead you’d just pity me.” She slips her arms underneath her head on the counter.
Peter’s quiet when he carefully carries the pot over to the stove. “There’s that much power behind a look?”
“Just your’s. I think it’s because of who you are, y’know? Selfless, most of the time, and caring and Spider-Man.” Michelle closes her eyes, knowing if she fell asleep right now Peter would carry her to his bed. It’s a nice feeling, being sure of that.
“Wow,” is what he musters out. “Well, do you think I look at you any differently?”
She picks her head up and Peter is on the other side of the counter, and they lock eyes. A small smile grows on his face, and it causes Michelle to smile back. “Kind of.” She shrugs and hops off her chair, then goes to the fridge and takes out a Coke.
“‘Kind of?’ What does that mean?” Peter takes the Coke from her, opens it, and gives it back.
“Okay, that right there. I can open my own Coke, Parker. I don’t need to be saved, or helped, and that’s how you look at me now. I can take care of myself just fine.” Just to make a point, she shoves the Coke into his chest, gets another one from the fridge, and opens it herself.
Peter stutters. “I don’t think you need to be saved. I don’t think of you any different.”
“No, I think you do. You can’t just learn something like that about someone and not have them be altered in your mind. Like when I found out you were Spider-Man. At first, I thought you were a flake with no morals. After, I thought you were a flake with exceptional morals.” Michelle returns to her seat and watches Peter scramble for what to say next.
He ignores her last comment. “It’s different, though.” Peter leans forward on the countertop, and even though he’s a few feet away he still feels so close. “I-- I still think you’re perfect.”
Michelle swallows dryly. “Peter--”
“I know what you’re going to say, but just wait. I agree that what happened the other weekend was really terrible and it shouldn’t have happened. However, have you seen Gwen at school recently? She’s laughing a lot more and smiling whenever I see her in the hallway, and I think she even said ‘Hi’ to me yesterday during Decathlon. Maybe she’d be okay with it. With us.” Peter is so hopeful, his eyes so wide and begging Michelle to agree. She’s almost ready to. “I want to make us work, Michelle. I want the whole thing with you. The dates, the hand holding in public, the annoying PDA on the subway.”
Peter goes to take her hands, and she lets him. “I think you’re so amazing,” he continues. “I think you’re the most beautiful, loveable girl in all of Queens, and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I mean it, MJ. I love you.”
The water starts to boil. Peter breaks eye contact with her for a split second, but Michelle doesn’t move. She keeps staring at him, at the boy who has confessed his love for her twice this month, and she wonders if she should start doing the same.