Sunset Secret (Peter Parker x Reader)

Chapter 35

if you like percy jackson, i've posted a percy x reader story called "Flower Girl" on my profile!!
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YOUR POV:
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A tear spills from my eye as I close the book, my bottom lip quivering uncontrollably. I squeeze my eyes shut, tilting my head back and inhaling as I try to stifle any other emotions. My heart beats faster every second, and I feel myself beginning to choke on a sob. Snapping my eyes open, I struggle for breath, this new finding overwhelming me so much that I feel as though I'm drowning. I quickly push myself off of my bed, stumbling to the corner of my room and sitting down in front of my keyboard.

I place my shaking fingers on the keys, closing my eyes and channelling my emotions. I start to play, barely hearing the notes as they go through one ear and out the other. I feel my heartbeat slow a bit, and my breathing returns to normal as I continue the melody. I don't even think about what notes I'm hitting as everything flows together, the sound of my blind composition filling my room as I slowly start to calm down. The music abruptly stops as I hear my phone buzz rhythmically on the desk beside me, and I turn on the seat, stretching my arm out to pick it up.

"Spider-Nerd :)" would like to video call.

I wipe my cheeks, taking a deep breath to compose myself before I press the green pick-up button. My best friend's face shows on the screen, and I force a smile on my face, only half of it genuine. "Hi!" I say, trying to seem enthusiastic. "Hey! Sorry, did I interrupt your practice?" I chuckle a bit at his concerned expression and shake my head, "Nah, you're good." He squints his eyes at me and tilts his head, worry passing over his features. I hold my breath, expecting him to ask about my tear-stained cheeks or if anything was wrong. "Can I hear you play?" comes instead, and I raise my eyebrows a bit in surprise. "Oh, um... y-yeah, yeah, that's fine."

PETER'S POV:
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(Y/n) sets her phone up against something so it stands up straight, and she turns to her keyboard. With the camera angle, I can't exactly see her face, but once she starts playing, I'm able to picture it clearly.

Her fingers move over the keys, a soft melody full of expression playing from the instrument. My eyes start welling up at the beautiful and heartbreaking tune, and I know that this isn't any old memorized piece. Classical works like Beethoven, Shostakovich, Bach, Mussorgsky, Saint-Saens, they all have their own style of composure. Whether it's mainly staccato or legato, the pedal pressed down the whole song or if it's even used at all, each of their pieces is unique to them.

This is her.

Her feelings and thoughts put into music, the crescendos and accentuations reflecting the very seriousness of what is her reality.

She's... confused. Lost. Hurt. Sorry. Terrified.

Mourning.

How do I know? Well, it's because I've felt the exact same way before. More than once, and I just didn't know how to express it.

I cried, I yelled, I wallowed in my sorrow, I mentally beat myself, blaming everything that had happened on me. I turned my pain into something horrible, unhealthy, and self-harmful. But (y/n), she's turned it into the opposite.

She's made it something beautiful.

Something pure, realistic, painful... but still lovely.

I wipe away a stray tear as the final chord softens, and she lifts her fingers from the keys, the song disappearing into silence. Turning to face the camera, she picks up her phone, slight relief written all over her face as it shows on screen. "That was amazing," I say, still feeling the effects of each note as they played through the speaker. "Thanks, but not really," she says, turning her head down in embarrassment. "Mr. Ross literally called you a prodigy today and asked the whole band why we couldn't be more like you when it comes to music, okay? So trust me, that was beautiful."

She chuckles a bit and lifts her head, and I can see the sorrow in her eyes. "Hey, (y/n)..." I start, not really sure how to approach the subject, and she nods, expectantly. I bite the inside of my cheek and sigh, looking into her eyes through the screen.

"Are you okay?"

Her lower lip quivers and she turns her head down, hiding her face. When she looks up again, my heart breaks. Her eyes are glistening and her usually happy face is contorted in pain and sorrow. She inhales, shakily, obviously trying to refrain from crying as she rapidly blinks and looks up to the ceiling. She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut.

"No," she chokes out, her voice making my stomach drop.

And that's all I need to make me say a quick goodbye, end the call, and grab my suit.

It takes me far more time to travel all the way upstate to the facility than I thought it would. I stopped on a few vehicles along the way, but I never expected a forty-minute drive to be an hour-long journey. But if it's because I need to make sure (y/n)'s alright and to comfort her, I would swing for much longer.

I jog around the side of the facility and climb up a wall, seeing a window with a guitar inside the room. I pull myself up to the small balcony and peer through the glass. My best friend is sitting on her bed, holding a white book in her hands. She seems to be constantly rereading a page, her glassy eyes repeatedly moving up and down. I raise my hand and knock on the barrier, the sound making (y/n)'s head snap up. She walks over and opens the window enough for me to crawl through, turning to me once she closes it. The second I take my mask off, she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her face in my chest.

I hug her tightly as I hear her shaky breaths and even the fast pounding of her heart. I tilt my head down, touching my lips to the top of her head as I gently rub her back. She pulls me closer, obviously needed to hold someone; to hear their heartbeat; to feel grounded.

Not like you're all alone, floating in space where everything you know and love is below you and unaware of your existence. And no matter how much you yell or scream or cry or pour your heart out, they still won't notice you. That's how it feels. Like you're lost and no one can help you. That's how she feels. Her life has been turned upside-down, and although I don't know what it is, I know that she needs this right now.

So I hold her for as long as it takes.

Whether it's two minutes or two days. Much longer if that's what she needs.

I'll wait.

Because I always wished that someone would have done the same for me all those years ago.