Sliding Doors ⧨ Peter Parker

2 | The Interview

Y/N

_

"Tell me, would you fit in here?"

Everything seemed out of sorts. I couldn't tell if it was the shock still from my near-death experience, or that I genuinely didn't feel like I fit into my surroundings.

I was sitting in an office room- of sorts- but it wasn't anything like I'd expected. Of course, what more could I have expected from this job, it was insane. The walls were completely glass, and everything seemed to be controlling itself. A man sat in front of me, a greying beard underneath his nose and on his chin. He was wearing a sharp suit, no creases in sight.

I felt underdressed, considering the fact that I was wearing jeans and a pastel blouse. I would have dressed up, but the nicest thing I owned was a floor-length cocktail dress; there was no inbetween.

"Are we talking about backgrounds?" I asked, my right leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

"It's a simple question, answer it how you like."

I gulped, my brain racking with different things to say. I only had one shot at this, and I needed to make sure it went perfectly.

"Technically," I started, "no one really fits in anywhere. Everyone is interpreted differently to others, and currently, society's standards for fitting in to something are generated by people's own different beliefs. And considering that they are all different, no one can really fit in."

I let out a puff of breath, hoping it didn't sound like a rant. I was trying to sound philosophical, but it really wasn't me. The real me would have just said, no, I don't belong here. But I really want to.

But I doubt that would be enough to get this job.

"Well, that will be it then," the man said, clicking his pen, "we'll let you know."

"That's it?" I stammered, "I haven't even shown you my portfolio-"

"We won't need it. Thank you for coming in, y/n."

I nodded, disappointed. I didn't get the job, I could tell by the way he was rushing me out of the room. I stood up slowly, bending down to grab my backpack from the floor.

Slinging it over my shoulder, I made my way towards the door. As if the world hadn't hated me enough, I felt a sharp tug on the back of my leg, and I tumbled towards the ground. I landed with a loud thud, my computer sliding across the smooth floor.

Bloody hell.

_

The next thing I knew, I was sitting back in the office chair, an icepack on my head, and a bandage on my calf.

"I'm really sorry," I said, flustered. "I understand you all are busy, and this is a huge imposition-"

A woman in a white dress was attending to my injured leg, her ginger hair pinned tightly back into a ponytail. She was rummaging through a first aid kit, trying to find something I was unfamiliar with.

"How did you get hurt, honey?" she asked, stopping to look at me.

"It's a long story," I explained, "and it sounds really crazy, but on my way here, I almost died."

The man in the corner let out a chuckle, as if he didn't believe me. I didn't expect him to, it sounded strange coming out of my mouth.

"Well that certainly explains it," the woman said, "what happened?"

"I was waiting for the train, and some kids thought it would be funny to try and steal my things," I mumbled, staring at the ground, "and the next thing I knew I was falling onto the tracks."

"Well thank god for the person that saved you," she said, "I'm glad you're okay."

I remembered those honey-brown eyes. For a moment, I felt lost in the memory of that moment, laying on the ground as the train breezed past us.

"Actually," I recollected, snapping my head up, "it was really weird."

The man in the corner, who had interviewed me a couple minutes ago, suddenly looked up. I saw him glance at the woman, before crossing his eyes to look up at me again.

"It all happened so quick," I explained, "before I fell, I was alone in the station, and all of a sudden he appeared."

"What do you mean, appeared?"the man said, clearing his throat.

"He came out of nowhere, it was like I was falling in front of the train, and all of a sudden, I was lying on the ground, perfectly safe."

"How did he catch you? Describe it."

I paused, trying to remember what happened. But the only thing my brain could come up with was seeing the shadow above me and suddenly being safe. I played the scene over and over again, but I couldn't figure it out.

"I- I can't," I said, "all I remember was being pulled back by something and running into him. It all happened so fast, I don't remember."

"What did he look like?"

"He looked like a teenager. My age, with brown hair and brown eyes."

The woman snapped her first-aid kit shut, and turned to look at the man. He nodded at her, before rushing out of the room.

"What's going on?" I asked, "is something wrong?"

"No, you're alright," she assured, patting my shoulder, "we just need to get someone."

"Who?"

The glass door opened again, and the man came rushing back in. Except this time, he brought someone else with him. A middle-aged man walked in, tinted sunglasses at the brim of his nose. He was wearing a pinstriped suit, with gold cufflinks and expensive sneakers. I widened my eyes, trying not to panic.

"y/n," the woman said, "this is Tony Stark."