Peter shakes his head again and turns around. I know what's coming and I'm too scared to think it but of course it is all I can think about. I can't believe he's going to do it. I feel tears well up in my eyes as he turns back to face me but he's looking past my shoulder.
I shake my head in return.
"Gwen, I'm so scared," He says, his voice is choked with emotion and his eyes are squinting a little like they always do when he's nervous. "Something big is happening...it's already happening and I need to stop it."
"It's not your job, Peter." I tilt my head upwards to try and hold back the tears.
Cupping my cheek, he brings my face back down and he shakes his head again "But it is. I had a part to play in it so it's up to me to destroy it and-"
"And you're breaking up with me." I state and take a step back from him; his hand falls to his side.
He looks away again as if the space between us is too unbearable.
So Peter is going through with it, he's letting me go. And I know, I know he feels like this is his responsibility but we're only seventeen and he is too young to just- deal with these situations.
"You can't be a part of this, Gwen. You'll get hurt because of me and I will never ever be able to live with myself if something happens to you," he lets out a shaky breath. "You are too important."
I squeeze my eyes shut. Breathe in and out a few times before opening my eyes and he's staring at me. His brown eyes are filled with pain, he's biting on his lower lip and I can't look at him a second longer without crying myself.
"I knew this would happen as soon as you told me that you were, you know. And I honestly don't know why I didn't see this coming sooner. I'm so-"
"Gwen, I-" Peter starts.
"-Angry with myself." I continue.
Peter steps towards me and I step back shaking my head.
"You can't do that anymore."
"I still love you." Peter says, running a hand through his hair.
Turning back to the restaurant where I see my family I say, "Goodbye Peter."
---------
The next few weeks involve Peter and I speaking politely towards each other during the seven lessons a week we share. It's been really odd and every time I look at him something clenches around my heart. I miss Aunt May too.
During these few weeks Peter has arrived at school with various bruises on his neck and around his eyes with complimenting scabs and cuts, which he has tried to cover up with long-sleeved shirts. But I notice. And of course I haven't been watching the news that has expressed the situation of this giant lizard roaming around New York City. Nor have I read any newspaper that has had Spider-Man on the cover.
Big Gigantic Stinking Lie.
There are times when I've been walking and I'll stop because I feel like I'm being watched. I'll look up but there's nothing. No Peter. I miss him so much.
"Uggghhhh I don't know." I shout at my laptop, frustrated.
I stand up and walk to my window where I can see the sun setting over New York. The sky filled with the most warm yellows and oranges. Beautiful.
I don't know how to end my stupid History essay; with a conclusion I know, but to be honest I have no clue what I've been writing for the past three hours. I'm just so distracted. I can't think properly.
I pull my hair up into a ponytail and change into my pajamas after accepting a hot chocolate from my dad. Mmm Marshmellows.
-----------
What the Hell?
I bolt upright and look around feeling disorientated. Great, I fell asleep on my desk chair with my head firmly planted on the desk. I look around trying to navigate the sound with woke me up.
Then I see what it is.
I run to my slide open door that overlooks the city and find Spider-Man leaning against the black, fire escape stairs. I push open the door.
"Peter?" I whisper.
It's only then when I'm right in front of him that I see.
His suit is torn across the chest, revealing a half a centimeter thick cut. More of his suit is torn at the neck and his mask is clutched in one of his hands. A cut stretches from his eyebrow to the corner of his lip, which is still bleeding and he's hunched over.
Two words register in my head then. Hurt and Blood.
I grab his hand clutching the mask and pull him inside, shutting the door behind me. I turn around and he's sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest with his back against the bottom of my bed.
I approach him slowly and kneel down beside him. I push his knees down so I can see his chest more clearly and I grit my teeth. It's bad.
He stares at me the whole time.
I grab a first-aid kit beneath my bed because I know him well enough that he will refuse to go to the hospital.
"This will hurt." I say.
I pull down the top, torn part of his suit until it stops around his hips and dab anti-septic wipes along the big gashes across his chest. He winces and I smile a bit. Next I attend to the wounds on his face with a more delicate hand, then with my free hand I place it on the back of his neck so I can tilt it at the right angles.
Once I've finished with the anti-septic I stitch up the smaller injuries and cover the larger ones with gauze and bandages.
"Thank you." He gives me a little smile but winces again.
I place two fingers on the cut near his lip.
"Your pretty face has taken quite a bash, Mr. Parker."
