Marvel And Melanated Imagines (ongoing)

friendly in the neighborhood | peter parker

The door opened on the second knock after a woman's voice shouted from behind it to 'hold on a second'.

You tried not to let your disappointment show when you smiled, Aunt May appearing in front of you in all her apron-wearing glory. She smiled back, hers a more genuinely-happy one and beckoned you in.

"I didn't know you were coming, otherwise, I would have ordered dinner instead of making it." Aunt May jokes and you laugh along with her, trying not to look as if you were sneaking glances towards a certain boy's room. You failed.

"Go on," Aunt May says with that smile of hers that spoke of nostalgic days, of remembering herself in your position. You sincerely hoped that was not the case. 

"He's his room and I haven't managed to get him out for the whole day; a project's due or something. Maybe you can get him out."

You nod, unsure, and walk to the door. You hesitate for a split second, wondering if you should knock or if it'd be pointless; this was, after all, your boyfriend but maybe a warning would be nice. Knock and then walk in. Catch him off guard. Don't give him a chance to lie again.

Deciding to do exactly that, you knock once, sharply, and open the door. You quickly slip inside and look around.

He wasn't there. Of course, he wasn't.

Was he ever?

You sat down on his bed, felt the soft fabric of his duvet. You leaned down, resting a body that felt too weary all of a sudden, smelling the soft scent that reminded you so much of him. How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel this broken?

You knew Peter wasn't even aware of it - he wasn't cruel enough to know about it and still do it. He was just oblivious and maybe that was worse, maybe the fact that he was too distracted to notice he was pushing you away made your heartbreak faster and harder than it would, were he to be as cruel.

Your eyes slipped closed as you felt that familiar sting in them, and you buried your face further into the pillows. Maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, the hurt will just disappear.

"Y/N?" You heard that familiar, gentle voice and froze. Oh. So, he was back. Finally. You didn't even hear the door open, though.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" A hand followed the question and you tensed. You couldn't help it; the comfort that hand once brought you no longer existed. That touch only served to remind you of all the touches he never seemed willing to give to you anymore.

You slowly sat up and shrugged his hand off, wiping your eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was only wearing a shirt but you didn't take it in. You didn't care. Suddenly, you didn't care if he was naked, if he saw your tears, if he wondered. Let him. It won't make any difference.

"Cocoa puff, what's wrong?" Peter asked, concern - actual fucking concern - in his voice, and that was the final straw. How dare- how fucking dare he act like he gives a shit after avoiding you for months? Without no explanation? Without no warning? Just there one second, gone the next?

You spun around on him and glared, eyes narrowed with the fire you've had burning in you since the beginning of all of this. Peter startled, eyes widening in his bewilderment, and he looked as if he was going to back up. He doesn't. It annoys you more, oddly enough.

"Really?" You hiss, "Really? You're just going to sit there and act like nothing's happened?" Your voice raises with each word until you're shrieking it but you don't care. So what if the neighbors hear? So what if Aunt May hears? All you want is to make sure Peter hears. He's the only one that matters, that's ever mattered.