eunoia || Peter Parker (Spider-Man: Homecoming)

10

Peter's heart plummeted at the sight of his best friend.

May took a slow step backwards, taking Peter with her. Out of his peripheral vision, Peter could see Mister Stark's worried gaze turn on him, protectiveness written all over his face. Peter might've appreciated the concern, had it not been for the fact that the daughter of the woman Peter had murdered was walking straight for him, expression blank.

If anything, it was worse than if she tried to kill him. Or scream at him. Or hurt him. Her face was void, emotionless. Her steps were empty. It was so, so much worse. Peter remembered what it had felt like after losing Uncle Ben, and May, and when he thought he'd lost Mister Stark. How he'd shut everything out, forgotten it all. Focused on not focusing on anything, not feeling anything.

Her hair was down, which was unusual in itself. It was just as dark and curly as he remembered, flowing down to her shoulders. The sunlight caught it, and every strand seemed to glow a brilliant gold. She wore her usual camo pants, baggy shirt and oversized denim jacket. Black converse over long, white socks. Clear-framed glasses, and no makeup.

It was too normal. Too sane.

"Peter," May said again, grip tightening around Peter's jacket.

Peter didn't know what to do. He just stood there numbly, May clinging to him. He couldn't even feel the pain anymore. All of him was just focused in on MJ, emotions fighting a very bloody war inside of him. The amount of hope and joy that filled him seemed almost enough to fight off the anguish and guilt. It wasn't, but Peter let himself believe it was.

He could remember all those long talks they'd had, before everything had happened. Casual conversations that would turn into debates that he'd lose every time, that would turn into philosophical chats. He could remember telling her about Thanos, after the train station incident. He could remember when, after the whole 'kidnapping' thing with Adrian Toomes, how Ned, Michelle and him had sat at Ned's place for hours and just talked, none of them needing to express their relief that the other was alive.

Even on bad nights, when he'd wake up not knowing where he was or who he was, he'd remember the day MJ had saved his life. The backlash from his kidnapping, when Peter had been in a coma. When he forgot all else, he could remember how much he fought to get back to her. To Michelle. How her voice had found him, and lead him back. The moment they shared once he had come back.

The drawing, the comforting, the reassurance, the encouragement, the friendly banter, everything. The moment after he'd killed her mom, when he saw her and truly began to question what was really going on. M. That letter, the only one that had resounded within in him throughout all the brainwashing and all the torture and all the killing and-

It was all Michelle. How had he not noticed that before?

MJ's hair blew in the wind, eyes trained on Peter as she walked up to him. Her stride never faltered. Her gaze never looked away. Peter didn't realise a tear had fallen until he tasted salt on his lips. Call him cliché, but everybody around him fell away; disappeared. There was a reason why all the books said that-because it was real. Nothing else mattered at that moment, apart from Michelle Jones.

He detached himself from May, taking the most hesitant of steps towards the girl. He felt winded, but he couldn't tell if it was because he still had trouble breathing without an oxygen mask, or because of something else.

She was so close now. Peter could see every faded freckle on her face, every eyelash, all the different colours in her eyes. Of course, she was still a couple of meters away, but enhanced senses and all...yeah. His heart was beating so fast, he could feel it pulsing in his fingertips.