↬ About Falling

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IT WAS SO soft and innocent, the way that he held you so close to him

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IT WAS SO soft and innocent, the way that he held you so close to him.

You were cuddled to his chest on his small single bed, your face nestled in his neck with his arms wrapped around you like an anchor to a boat in a harbour. It was almost lulling you to sleep, the dainty action of his callous but ever so loving fingers running up and down the length of your back. Occasionally, he'd draw his head back, only slightly, to press his lips to your forehead or your temple or your nose (the latter of which always made him grin because you would scrunch your face up in the most adorable way whenever he did).

Your eyes were closed, eyelashes resting elegantly against the tops of your cheeks, and your breaths were slipping from your parted lips in a calming melody. You could ever so faintly feel the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips that lay gently on his chest, the soft thuds giving you a sense of relief that he was still there with you. It was lovely, the simple nature of close contact with the boy you adored with everything you had.

God, how both of you wished you could stay like that forever.

It was just another day after school at Midtown. The afternoon sun was still sending honey-coloured bars through the open window, the sound of Queens alive beneath the apartment building reminding you of a world outside Peter Parker. It was a nice day, birds were chirping and you could faintly hear the sound of May listening to the radio in the kitchen.

And that's all it had to be like. Your relationship was simply sweet: the innocent kisses that left your body blushing with loving passion, the soft glances that left your hearts full, the calm days where cuddles and distant music were the only things that seemed right.

It seemed right even when you felt yourself slipping off his tiny bed only made for one. "Peter," You let out a quiet giggle, clasping onto his shirt with dainty fingers, "I'm falling off the bed."

Your boyfriend let out a laugh of songful harmony and it lightened your heart gracefully as you held on tighter to him, hoping not to let go. "No," He spoke in a whine, bleary eyes finding the amusement in yours, "You're warm. Stay." Then his arms were holding onto you tighter in an instant, his face falling into the crook of your neck. You could just about feel the childish pout of his lips against your skin, and you couldn't help but beam with endearment.

"I won't let you fall," His words were muffled against your neck as he shuffled back just so, tugging you further into the warmth and safety of his solace.

You barely heard them, but once you felt secure on the small bed, you unlatched your fingers from his plain tshirt and weaved them ever so gently through the dark chocolate of his hair. "Too late," You spoke in a whisper, almost breathless with the abundance of disillusionment. It was then that you realised. You hadn't fallen physically, not with the freckled boy there to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

No, instead, you'd fallen for him. So undoubtedly, inexplicably fallen head over heels for the boy that wore nerdy science pun tshirts and stumbled over everything he possibly could. Of course you liked him, he was your boyfriend and he made you smile even when you didn't feel like you could. But, this was different. This was your heart beating for him. This was the longing you felt to be in his arms whenever you could. This was the light that you felt in your being, of hope and all things great, whenever he was around. This was love.

When Peter heard the syllables shape the words so gracefully in his ears, he leant back to catch your eyes. They were bright, a light in them that had his heart feeling so full and gracious. He hoped that you meant what he thought you meant. God, he hoped.

"Y-You mean...?" His voice, a pitch higher than usual with coiling anticipation, trailed off into the serenity of the quiet room.

His hopeful eyes were trained on yours, and you couldn't help but catch your bottom lip between your teeth and nod bashfully. "Yeah," You breathed out, almost overwhelmed by the sudden realisation. "I-I'm in love with you."

You waited for the dreaded silence, the one that told you that you were moving too fast, that you should've just kept quiet, that you were both 16 years too young to understand what love truly was.

But, it was like no time passed at all. Because Peter was beaming so innocently and with such radiance over at you, his words spewing excitedly from his moving lips, "I'm in love with you, too."

And with such a soft smile, you fell back into his arms - alleviation timeless in your heart. You felt the pepper of kisses that he left on your shoulder, trailing with innocence up your neck and jaw to your lips. He pecked your inviting lips once, twice, a third time - falling short on the fourth when your giggles hit the shell of his ear and he was found smiling, so lovingly and with love, down at you.

About falling: too late, and for him.

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