Far From My Home [COMPLETE]

Chapter 2: Breath and Silence

Y/N's POV

Shawarma.

Hershey's.

Fudge.

No, I'm not ordering food. This is not good.

The press is getting a little too excited; and I can't do anything about it.

I watch as they ask all these questions that just tear at his already open wounds. 

I know that the whole thing went off the cliff when I heard two words that always hurt Peter, no matter who they're coming from.

Iron Man.

I could see his breath catch, even from the other side of the room. I see May come out of the backstage, a worried look on her face. I'm sure my facial expressions mirrored hers, but probably with a twinge of indignation.

I hear Peter hastily excuse himself, and he swings out of the open skylight.

May glances at me understandingly before taking charge to deal with the unsatisfied interviewers. 

I just hope he's okay.

Without really thinking it through, I immediately rush out of the building. I round a corner and start up the fire escape.

In heels.

I'll admit, not my smartest decision.

I don't know how I know he's on top of this building; I kind of just have a feeling. Like a Y/N Tingle. It only works on Peter-related things, though.

Holy Hershey's, I need to work out more.

Winded, I finally reach the roof. Before taking the last step, I make an executive decision and get rid of that stupid safety pin. I quickly check to make sure it's still classy and not trashy, take a deep breath, and proceed.

As I suspected, I see Peter crouched down, mask off, and starring at a graffitied brick wall in front of him. Guess who was depicted in this elaborate street painting?

Nevermind, don't. We all know who it is.

I step off the staircase, my shoes clicking against the cement. Peter jumps to his feet when he hears my footsteps, his mask automatically covering his face again.

"It's just me," I say softly, knowing he'll hear me no matter how quiet my voice is.

He lets out a breath I didn't know he was holding, and his mask disappears.

I wish I could say it was a happy sight, but I'd be lying.

He's been crying. His eyes say it all.

He doesn't speak, he just looks at me with his puppy dog eyes, clenched jaw, ruffled hair.

I don't speak; I walk towards him slowly, almost hesitantly. He looks down, ashamed of his tears.

I speed up, only stopping when I'm a breath away from him. Cupping his wet cheeks, I lift his face, forcing his eyes to meet mine. 

My heart breaks at the sight. I let my hands slide around his neck and he melts into the embrace.

I hold him close to me, as close as possible, and rub circles into the sobbing boy's back.

He hunches over to press his cheek against my shoulder, and I feel the hot tears fall onto my bare skin. 

Silence. 

Just silence.

Whether it's comfortable or not, I couldn't tell you.

All that matters is the broken boy breaking down further in front of me.

No words. No distractions.

Just me, him, and a busy night in the city.

I focused on that; the sounds of the night, rather than the painful whimpering.

The cool night air tickles my face, forcing me to acknowledge my own tears. When his shaking died down, I loosen my grip a little, but don't let go. I'll wait for him to let go.

Turning my head, I place a soft and elongated kiss to his temple. I hear his breath hitch when my lips meet his head

I will never get over how amazing Peter is. I will never take him for granted. It's not fair, all that's happened to him. Such a beautiful person shouldn't have had to deal with such horrors. He's the strongest person I know, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he can lift about 2 tons.

I feel relieved to finally admit that I have someone I can trust completely.

Gradually, I feel his grip on my waist loosen. His hands linger on my hips and he pressed his forehead to my sternum. I try in vain to slow my heart, but I quickly abandon the attempt. I bury a hand into his forest of chocolate curls, gently and silently telling him he can stay there. I feel his hot breath against the exposed part of my chest, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the breeze. 

Well, maybe a different kind of breeze.

I shove aside my thoughts, knowing that Peter's are far from where mine were.

"Y/N," a small, raspy voice speaks, and it would've startled me had it been for the underlying sweetness in his tone.

"Hmm?"

"I have something to tell you-"

Cool, a cliffhanger for a short, and pretty bad chapter. 

Totally was not trying to drag it out…

Yeah, there's no fooling y'all. Next chapter will be better, I promise.

Love you guys 3000 <3