Spider-Man Imagines I

A Million Dreams | Peter Parker [TH]

Peter always laughed when he was with you. Your jokes never failed to bring the biggest grin on his face. You were so funny, and even being in your presence made him happy.

You were his everything. Ever since you were small and he was the little neighbor kid with no parents and a pair of glasses thick enough to make his eyes look twice as big, you were his everything.

Because Peter never had much, but when he had you, none of that mattered so much.

So he didn't have money.

You never made him feel bad for not being able to afford things.

So he didn't have parents.

You didn't pity him for it.

So he wasn't the coolest kid in school.

You never grew embarrassed of him.

It was just you and Peter, from the age of five to the age of eleven, never leaving one another, always together, always laughing -

Until-

"Peter, I'm moving," you had said, your hands wringing together.

He pulled the handful of cheese puffs from his mouth. They slipped out of his fingers and dropped on the floor, rolling around his legs.

"What?" he asked, sucking in air as if he was recovering from a physical blow to the gut.

"We're moving," you said, only this time, your voice broke. Tears slipped through your eyelashes. "Daddy is moving us all to Ohio. I don't want to go."

"When?" he asked. He had tears in his eyes as he pictured life without his best friend.

"Next week," you answered.

At the same time you pushed yourself forward, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you to his thin, bony chest, the top of your head smashing against his chin, making his teeth clank together.

"Peter," you sobbed, "what do I do?"

He pulled back and took your small hands in his. "Let me show you something."

He took you out of his bedroom and through the living room, where Uncle Ben and Aunt May were watching tv. After sneaking out of the apartment, he took you up the brightly lit staircases and to the eleventh floor, the very top of the building, where the dusty red door of an apartment was propped open.

He nudged the door so it swung open, the light from the hall flooding onto the dark floorboards.

"It's abandoned," he said, stepping in. You walked ahead, eyes wide at the sight of old furniture, open windows with no blinds or curtains to hide behind. "Cool, huh?"

"Wow," you breathed. You grinned. "Like a clubhouse!"

"Yeah," he agreed, smiling. He stepped up to the windows, where the dim lights of dusk shown in with the brightening lights of the city. "I close my eyes and I can see the world that's waiting up for me, that I call my own."

You turned your head to look at him. He peeled his eyes open and looked at you, smiling.

"Through the dark, through the door, through where no one's been before - but it feels like home."

His hand found yours.

"They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy. They can say, they can say I've lost my mind. I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy. We can live in a world that we design-"