MAGIC TRICKS [PETER PARKER]

SEVENTEEN

"WE NEED TO TALK."

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes flickering away from my face. I had been wordless up to that point, dabbing at the dark purple bruises on his neck with a makeup sponge, slathering concealer and foundation on his skin to cover the wounds. We had just arrived back at my apartment, after a brief overlook from Christine, and Peter wanted to cover up the bruises before May saw them and got too worried. We hadn't said a word since our arrival.

"About what?" asked the boy after my statement. I cast my eyes to the ground, lowering my hands from his neck. "I... I need you to talk to Mr. Stark... I need him to help me," I pleaded.

From the look on Peter's face, his furrowed eyebrows and confused eyes, I could tell he didn't understand what I wanted. "Well, m—maybe I can help you—"

"No, Peter..." I sighed heavily. "I need him to fix this." Gesturing wildly, I looked away from his face as it became stoic. "I need him to fix me."

He stared for a good while, brown eyes calculating. "No."

I blinked and my eyebrows pinched together. "No?"

"No," he repeated, firmer this time. Peter stood, as if sensing an argument brewing like a storm, "No, I'm not doing that."

My mind was spinning. The caring, girlfriend part of me sympathized with him- I knew he felt as if it was his fault in the first place. I knew he wanted to do whatever else he could to protect me. Yet still, the selfish part of my mind was revolting. Unfortunately, the latter took over.

"Pete- Are you serious? If Christine hadn't been there, you would've died," I spat, anger bubbling in my chest at his unreasonableness. "You can't really expect me to just sit there and watch you— I... I can't do that, you know that."

His head was shaking from side to side before I could even finish my sentence. "I can't just sit and watch you die either, Nadia. Not again," cried the boy. I clenched my jaw. "Then help me fix this, Peter."

"No!" he exclaimed, frustrated, running his fingers through his messy brown locks. His cheeks were starting to turn red. "No, no, I-I'm not dragging you back into this—"

"You need help!"

"You are helping! By staying out of the way and safe, that's one less person I have to worry about!" Peter was visibly upset, his mouth turned in a stern frown. I felt my lip trembling and I looked away from him, gripping the handles of my chair to keep myself from bursting into tears. He didn't know— he didn't know what it was like to feel useless. He didn't know what it was like to watch the one person he cared about more than anyone in the world be so close to death that they were slipping through his fingers like dust in the wind. He didn't know what it felt like to be useless.