Don't Look At Me Like That

The Argument

"Don't look at me like that. Please."
"Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were better than that!"
Peter looks at me with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His voice cracks when he speaks. "I know. I'm sorry, I just— I. . ."
I ignore the pain rising inside of me. "Peter! You're my best friend. I've never hidden anything from you. And you never trusted me with your biggest secret?"
He holds his face in his hands. No— no, I trust you, I just. . ." He breaks off.
"You've been Spiderman for almost a year now, Peter! When were you planning on telling me? Your aunt May knew, Tony knew, Ned knew! I wipe my wet cheeks with the palms of my hands. "I guess I just never mattered enough to you."
Peter visibly tenses. "No! You matter to me! You matter so much to me. Even if you hate me forever for not telling you, don't think that I don't care about you."
"What are you talking about Peter?"
He stepped closer to me until we were only a few feet apart. He spoke with his head hanging low, barely loud enough to hear. "Look, okay? I know that keeping this whole thing from you was shitty and stupid and I'm gonna make it up to you eventually. I really did think I was helping you." He looked up. "But please don't ever think that it was because I don't care about you. You are my best friend, and I've always. . ." He trailed off.
"Um. . .the point is, you know I love you. I've loved you ever since you came into my life, and I can't imagine being able to be happy if you stay mad at me. You and May and Tony are my only family, and it's weird and doesn't make any sense but it's the best thing in my life. You are the best thing in my life. I hate that it's my fault that you're crying right now and I really wanna hug you and tell you that everything is gonna be okay. But I can't do that because I messed all of this up. I'm just hoping you'll be able to forgive me."
He looked up at me, eyes big and full of tears. "I'm so, so sorry."
He grabs both my hands and pulls me towards him, into a chest-collapsing hug. I speak quietly enough that he wouldn't hear me if we weren't so close.
"I love you too Peter. And I promise I'm not mad at you." I pull out of the hug and look him in the eyes. "I know that we're going to get over this okay? But I'm just. . .I'm really tired right now and this is all too much to process. I need to go home." I release his hands and turn around, but not before I see the pain etched on his face. My stomach clenches, and I desperately want to turn back, but I don't.
He calls my name, and I hear his footsteps behind me, until eventually it stops. He doesn't come after me.
• • •
It's only around 10:30, but the winter means that the sun has been setting early, and it feels much later. Snow is falling heavily outside which represents my mood pretty accurately. Ever since my argument with Peter a few hours ago, I've been curled up on my bed, crying. I try to get my mind off of him, but it always goes back. I watch movies, listen to music, take a hot shower, and it doesn't work. I wonder what he's doing right now. It's late, he's supposed to be on duty. . .as Spiderman.
I still can't believe it. Peter. My best friend since like, forever. The one who got attacked by a rabbit in sixth grade. The guy that I kind of have a crush on, but we don't talk about that. Spiderman? It didn't add up at first, but now I guess it makes more sense. All the times that he's had to leave the room to answer a phone call from a blocked number, and then leave immediately? Probably some emergencies that required a super hero.
Woah. My best friend is a super hero.
Is he even my best friend anymore? Or did I just ruin our relationship completely? I should've just forgiven him. Why didn't I just stay with him. Oh god I'm such an idiot. He poured his heart out to me, and I left, because "I'm tired." That is the dumbest excuse I've ever come up with.
"UGHHHHH!" I throw my pillow at my wall, resulting in a yell from my mom downstairs, which I ignore. Maybe I'll just call him. I pick up my phone and get ready to click on his contact, but set it back down. I don't think he wants to hear from me. Or he could be asleep. Maybe it's better to just leave him alone for now.
My heart hurts, but I plug my phone into the charger and decide to turn it off for the night. I guess we just both need time to calm down. Even if what I really want is to see him right now.
TAP TAP.
What the hell was that?
TAP TAP TAP.
It's coming from my window. Oh my god, oh my god. Someone must be trying to break in. I don't wanna die.
TAP TAP.
My palms sweat and I'm shaking, but I jump up and search the room for a weapon. After realizing I have nothing but pillows and blankets in here, I settle for my blue lamp.
TAP TAP.
I'm scared. I find myself wishing Peter were here with me right now, Spiderman or not. But he isn't, so I gotta get over it.
My window creaks open slowly. Why don't I ever lock that thing? I'll add that to my list of dumb stuff I need to make up for.
A gloved hand is pushing the window open, and then a hooded figure steps into my bedroom. I unleash a battle cry that will probably wake up my neighbors from down the street, and run at him with the lamp over my head. "AHHGGEAEHHH!!!"
The figure screams back in return, a high pitched voice that sounds like. . . oh crap, PETER?
But it's too late, I'm already swinging, and my tiny blue lamp is whacking him in the forehead before I have the chance to stop it.
I hear a meek, "noOo" and then he falls to the ground.
"No, Peter, I'm so sorry!"
He pulls off his Spiderman mask from my carpeted floor, and he looks dazed. I can see the spot on his head where I hit him, but luckily I'm not very powerful, so it's already fading. He speaks in a groggy, confused voice that makes him sound like he just woke up from a coma. "No, no, I'm fine I'm fine."
I pull him to a sitting position and lean him against the nearest wall. "Peter, I thought you were a robber! Why did you come in through the window?"
When he answers me, his voice sounds clearer. "I'm sorry. I didn't wanna wake up your family."
I laugh. "Well, yeah, that definitely didn't work. I just hope my parents slept through all the banging."
He smiles, but then we both realize that we're supposed to be fighting. His face grows serious, and we stand up. Peter stays in the corner of the room avoiding eye contact, and I've edged over to the side of my bed. I push my legs into a criss crossed position and pull some hair behind my ear. I realize I'm still gripping the lamp in one hand and awkwardly set it on my nightstand.
Peter talks first. "Look, I know I should've told you the truth to begin with. I promise I wanted to tell you from the beginning, but Tony kept telling me it wasn't safe, so I didn't risk it. I know you're mad, but. . ." He trails off, not knowing where to go with the sentence.
A silence fills the room, neither of us looking at the other. "Peter, I. . ."
He looks up at me hopefully. I offer him an apologetic smile and gesture for him to sit next to me on the bed, which he does.
"Peter, I'm sorry too. It's none of my business if you decide not to tell me something, and I way overreacted. But it did kind of hurt to know that you told other people before me."
He looks down and I can tell he feels guilty. "If it makes you feel better, I didn't technically tell anyone. Tony figured it out, May walked in while I was in my suit, and Ned saw me crawl across the ceiling."
I burst out with a quick, breathy laugh at the thought of Peter crawling on the ceiling. "Well then you must really suck at keeping secrets."
He shrugs. "Ehh. . . yeah pretty much." His glances at me for a moment, looks away, then back at me. "Uhm, so. . .?"
I interrupt by squeezing him into a hug, and he hugs me back. It lasts a long time, but that's allowed when you've just made up after a fight.
"No more secrets?" I whisper.
He answers by squeezing me back. "No more secrets."