LOUD MOUTH → PETER PARKER ✓

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Type Of Promise You Can't Break

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗: THE TYPE OF PROMISE YOU CAN'T BREAK

Two bad days in a row, one of which being Callie's birthday. And what with Harry's return and all the drama that accompanied it, she had barely had time to be in the Mayor's office doing her assisting things, which meant that the files she needed to go through were piling up somewhere in the building, waiting for her to take way too much sorting them out. God, she hoped her third day was a good one.

She woke up on time, feeling as though the last few days were simply copy and pasting themselves on top of one another, creating a confusing blur of easy mornings and tragic nights. The simply fact of the matter was that the current state of her life was giving her whiplash, providing her with hope one hour and stomping on it the next. Her heart was starting to get tired of it.

She really wished she got to see her mom before she left that morning. But as usual, she was long gone. No note. Birthday decorations had been taken down. She had spent last night's birthday dinner trying not to cry. She probably would have if it weren't for Lily, who let her squeeze her hand under the table any time she felt the tears starting to crop up. She suspected Lily had told her mom what was going on—she didn't ask, she didn't pry. Callie guessed she was grateful for it, but part of her wondered if it would have been better for her just to let it all out, tell her everything that was on her mind. Now it seemed like she wouldn't get a chance.

Callie got into her car, resisting the urge to pound her head on the steering wheel for a long, satisfying honk, and went to turn it on. The engine sputtered a few times and died down. Frowning, she turned the key again. The engine coughed a few more times and refused to turn on.

"Come on, baby," she murmured to her car, trying yet again to turn it on. It died out again. "Oh, come on!" she yelled, hitting the dash board. She buried her face in her hands, so fucking ready to bawl her eyes out. But she paused before the first tears could fall. This could not happen now. She had a job to get to and day to get on with. She'd call her mom, get the car fixed later. But now she needed to get to downtown on legs.

Hands clenched into the tightest fists she could manage before cutting into her own skin, Callie began her walk to downtown. Swinging would be faster, a little intrusive though in her brain said. She pursed her lips at that, trying so hard not to stop in the street and scream into the sky.

At least she was getting a good work out in. She was sweating by the time she got to the coffee shop, where she picked up hers and the Mayor's coffees. Luckily, Mayor Lewis would only drink hot coffee, meaning that she didn't have to worry about it melting on the way. It was Callie's iced coffee that sent freezing condensation running down her hand and over her arms, freezing her hand while the rest of her felt like it was melting in the sun.

When she did finally make it to the Mayor's office, she knew that she looked and probably smelled awful. Sweat had plastered her hair to her forehead and pooled at the back of her neck. She didn't even want to look to see how damp her collar was. She was disgusting, but she had a job to do. She got in the elevator with a man who gave her an odd look as she walked in. "Car trouble." she said simply as she got in the elevator, pressing the button to her level.

If, for once, she could make it past the lobby and into the Mayor's office, she'd be golden. If she could just once get past whatever distractions were awaiting her in the lobby, she could maybe, possibly get some work done. That was all she wanted. Something constant, something that had order. Something very much not wedding cake complicated.

The door opened to the lobby and, for a moment, no obstacles presented themselves. That prompted a real, genuine smile from Callie, who stepped into the lobby. Immediately as she did, she saw Peter sitting in one of the chairs up front. He looked up when she walked in, and her heart immediately dropped. He looked awful—not more than her, a different kind of awful. She gave him a wide-eyed look as he got up and headed towards her. "What are you doing? Wait, no, I think the question I should ask is what do you think you're doing, because I think sometimes you think you're doing one thing and actually doing something completely different, so my real question is what do you think—"