G R A Y C L O U D S - T A S M「2」

F I V E

- LOVE IS TORTURE -

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Liz has always been a suspicious person, this trait only multiplying a tenfold once buying an apartment and living alone. Every noise, every flicker of random light, even off shadows would be cause for her heart rate to increase.

     With nothing clad to her body beside her underwear and large t-shirt, Liz walked cautiously out of her room with a can of all-purpose cleaning spray in one hand and a rolled up magazine in the other. What she'd do with these, she wasn't quite sure.

     A slight tapping against her unclosable window made her footsteps towards it become shaky and frantic. Presumably the sound emitted from something like a branch of a tree hitting the glass over and over, or even drops of rain from last nights storm still lingering in the trim of the building. But again, she was paranoid and she wasn't going to catch a wink of sleep if she didn't know exactly what was making that noise.

     It also didn't help her fear as she could not for the life of her see the other side of the window in the darkness of the late, late night.

     Her eyes were wide, breathing labored as she tightened her grip around the magazine and reached for the rim of the window, only for it to start opening on its own.

     She let out a frightened scream as she backed away, dropping the can of cleaner to the ground out of fear as she swung her arm about drastically with the magazine shakily still in her hand.

     "Whoa, whoa, whoa! It's just me!" She opened her eyes, surprised to hear Peter's voice clearly, without being muffled by his mask.

     "Peter? What the hell are you doing here?" She whisper shouted as she threw the magazine in his direction out of irritation, the thing making it only a few feet before it fluttered to the ground in between them both.

     With his shoulder and back searing in pain from the newly open wound and slash across his ankle, both he'd obtained only an hour prior, he didn't know where else to go. Yes, he had his own home. Yes, he had a supernatural ability to heal on his own, but he wanted to see her. Needed to, actually.

     "Sorry, I—"

     "You can't just come over here whenever you want to, we're not together anymore—" Amidst her rambling, Peter stumbled through the window with a pained hiss as he stood unsteadily on a more than sore ankle.

     "What's wrong?" She approached him with her eyes glued to his ankle, quickly trailing up to find his suit had been ripped and his skin painted red with his own blood slowly seeping out of his shoulder. "Peter—"

     "I know. I'm sorry, I just—" He didn't know what to say. He was speechless under her bright eyes that stared into his own with concern. He didn't think the effect of her eyes would be so great as time passed, deprived of the most beautiful blue imaginable.

     "It's been a long night." He offered a small grin and a minuscule laugh as he tried to make a joke, a groan at the stinging of his back following his attempts to calm her.

     "Peter." She muttered his name under her breath like she was disappointed. Of course, she was never actually upset with the fact he was quite literally saving the entire city, but she was however sad to see the result of such actions. Spiderman may seem invincible but under that suit was Peter Parker who always seemed as fragile as a baby.