PARKER ⌁ peter p. imagines

letting go

first imagine i've written with
spiderman included!! yay
(well like half spiderman but whatever)

____

When you're not on your phone or watching movies at two in the morning, you're sleeping. Today was one of those days when you chose to close your eyes and avoid sleep deprivation. Of course, it was disrupted by a light knock at your window.
There was only one person that would show up at your house this late.

"Pete?" You opened the window to let him in. He was limping, and there were bruises and scratches and blood. "Jesus." You sighed, taking it all in.

"I know," He half-smiled. "You can't believe I look this good after getting my ass handed to me." He joked, trying to laugh but just ending up hurting himself. With your help, the boy sat down on your bed as you went to retrieve a first aid kit. You always had a few ready. This situation was one you knew all too well. Stripping the tattered up suit from his body, you hung it over the headboard and sat on a chair in front of him. Peter hissed at the sting of peroxide against his wounds, but was thankful that you were always there to help him.

The whole time you were cleaning him up, you were thinking about how many more times you'd do this. Help him crawl through your window, clean his wounds, watch him in pain.

After wrapping him up with gauze, you decided to tell him the truth. This should've happened a while ago. You pulled your lip between your teeth.
"I can't do this anymore."

He scrunched his eyebrows
together in confusion, sitting up with
his hands on the bed. "Do what?"

"Watch you hurt yourself."

He cracked a smile, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, trying to reassure you that he was fine. "I'm not in pain, baby."
He was lying.

"Really?" You lightly poked a bruise on his
shoulder blade, causing him to wince.

He sighed, looking up at you. He didn't want to have this conversation. "y/n, I can't stop being Spider-Man. The neighborhood needs me, Mr. Stark-"

"Peter," You intertwined your fingers with his. "The world needs you." You smiled sadly. He knew where this was going. "I support you. I support you as Spider-Man, as Peter, whoever and whatever you want to be. You put yourself in danger for other people, and that is the most courageous thing anyone can do. But if I continue on like this-" Your breath hitched in your throat. "Peter, the last time you came through my window at two in the morning you had cracked ribs. Cracked ribs!" Your voice was wavering. "I do not want to be the one that finds you dead in an alleyway. I will not be that person."
Peter's head hung low, almost as if he was ashamed of himself.

You placed your hand on his cheek, his head lifting to look at you. "You did nothing wrong, Pete. Absolutely nothing. You are the bravest person I know, and I love you."

His face was etched with pain and confusion.
"If you love me, then why are you doing this?"

Hearing that made your heart break. You never wanted this to happen. You loved him. But you needed to let him go.

"I'm letting you go." You whispered.

"That's bullshit!" He scoffed. "You're not letting me go, you're giving up."

You tried so hard to keep calm, try to understand his point of view, but it didn't work. With your fist balled up on your side, you stood from the chair, looking down on him. "You wanna know what's bullshit? The countless times I cleaned you up, bandaged you, took you all the way to Tony's instead of the hospital because you said so. All the restless nights of helping you fall asleep because you were scared to. And especially every time you came into my room sobbing and I, me, spent the whole night hugging you and calming you down. That, is bullshit."

"I never asked you to do any of that!" He shouted.

"I did it because I love you, dumbass!"

The two of you stood in a stunned silence.
You hadn't said that to each other yet.

You shut your eyes tight. "I can't do this."

Peter took your hands in his. "y/n-"

You slid your hands out of his grasp, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

"Being is Spider-Man is a death sentence. And I will not be here to witness it." Peter was devastated, to say the least. "You can sleep here tonight." You said. And with a final look back, you left.

The next morning, you snuck back into your room to grab some clothes, but found the bed empty. You walked over to the foot of the bed where a sticky note  lay on the comforter.

I understand where you're coming from,
I just hope one day we can be friends
- maybe even BEST friends- again.
Thanks for being a great girl.

                                 Sincerely,
                                                       Spider-Man

Gotta go fulfill my death sentence ;)