Senseless ↠ Peter Parker

22

(Y/N POV)

Pretty, bright eyes.

"Mila?"

I froze up in terror. What was Happy thinking? He gave my identity away in just the blink of an eye.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, "do you know Happy?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I kicked Happy in the shin, begging him to swoop in and get me out of this situation. Luckily, it seemed as if Happy had a plan all along.

"I almost ran into this girl as she was crossing the street," he said, "I don't know who she is, but I was going to drive her home."

Peter sat up in his seat in excitement, his eyes glimmering in the dim car lights. I drew a sigh of relief and smiled at him, happy to see his face again.

"Happy, I know her!" He exclaimed, "running into each other was meant to be! See Happy? I told you we were meant to be friends!"

Happy rolled his eyes and turned his eyes back to the road, starting up the car. My heart was swooning at the thought of Peter thinking our meeting had something to do with fate, even though the aspect of destiny had been scientifically proven false.

Happy drove us down a couple blocks, and I could tell instantly we weren't heading back to the hotel. A few moments later, he pulled in front of the cafe plaza and parked the car.

"I'll be back to pick you two up in an hour," he explained, "and only and hour."

Peter and I got of the car, and started heading towards the fountain that was located in the direct center of the plaza. The water had stopped running for the night, but we could still hear the faint echo of the pipes underneath.

"Happy is a grumpy man," Peter told me, "don't worry about him. He's a softie underneath."

"I'm sure he is."

I smiled to myself, staring at the tiled floor beneath our feet. We had stopped in front of the fountain, and sat down on the edge. I could see the glimmer of Euros that had been tossed in, all of them in the hopeless thought of dreams.

"Why is there tape on your hand?" Peter asked, gazing at the black substance I had applied on my palm.

I remembered I had used it to climb down a fire escape, but Peter would find it suspicious if he knew the truth.

"I was just covering up a cut," I lied, "I think it's healed now."

"Do you need help getting it off?"

"I think I got it, don't worry about me."

I lifted my hand up to my mouth, and tried to rip it off with my teeth. The tape didn't budge, and it stood plastered to my fingers. I blushed sheepishly, embarrassed that I couldn't even get it off.

"Are you sure?" Peter asked, grinning to himself.

"Fine. I need help."

I stuck out my arm, and he grabbed my hand before placing it in his lap. He started to gently unwrap the sticky layer, before shoving the remainder of it in his pocket.

"Thanks," I whispered, the breeze hitting the exposed skin on my palm.

"No worries."

"You can let go of my hand now."

"Oh."

Peter stared down at our fingers, which were now interlaced. I don't remember him making an attempt to hold my hand, but for some reason it happened.

He pulled away his hand sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to do that."

"Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure? I don't want you thinking I'm being straightforward."

"Straightforward about what?"

"About holding your hand?"

"Ah."

I knew that wasn't what he really meant, but I knew better than to ask. We stared at each other for a second, before I looked away before the situation became unsettling. My thumb was twitching against my finger, and I kept bouncing my knees up and down.

I don't know why I was acting so strangely, I just felt like I was waiting for something. Something I had no clue of, but something I felt was going to happen.

"Actually," I mumbled, "your hands are soft."

Peter looked at me with a smile, and reached out for my hand. He held on tightly as he pulled me closer, an attempt to wrap his arm around me, but I pulled back.

I just wanted to hold his hand.

I hoped I wasn't leading him on, because Peter and I were simply friends. Best friends even, but maybe only in my perspective.

"The stars are pretty tonight," he pointed out, "I can see more of them than in Queens."

"That's because there aren't skyscrapers."

"I know, stop ruining the moment," he teased, "I was trying to compliment the sky."

"You're weird, did you know?"

"I've known since I was born."

I chuckled, and stared down at our hands. I could feel the warmth of his body pressed against my palm, and it made me feel calmer. I liked being with Peter, because I felt like time had stopped.

It was almost silent in the streets of Germany, which was a quick escape from the noisy hours back home. I looked back up to Peter, who was staring at me directly in the eye.

There was something about the way he looked at me, and it made my heart hurt. Maybe hurt wasn't the right emotion to use, but I couldn't figure out how to describe the feeling.

"You're beautiful, did you know that?" He said softly.

To any other girl, those words would have made them fall in love. Instead they sent me into a fit of panic.

"I have to go," I said, letting go of his hand, "I'll see you around, Peter."

I ran off into the dark city, afraid to look back. As the wind pushed my body backwards, I was persistent about getting back to the hotel.

When he said those words to me, it was like a million outcomes ran through my head. I couldn't lead him on like that; it was a danger to both of us.

If Peter and I became more than friends, sooner or later he'd figure out about me. I wasn't Mila Waters. I was Y/N Stark. And he was Spider-Man.

And the fact I had lied to him this whole time would crush him. I lied to him. I took advantage of him as a person, just. So I could prove something to my dad. I thought of him as a mission, not a real friend.

I couldn't do that to him.

I could feel my phone ringing through my purse, but I knew better than to answer it. I couldn't hear his voice begging me to come back, because I know I would. I needed to stay strong,

For the both of us.