Chapter Text
The universe had a funny way of working. Sometimes, it seemed ironic, leaving you with nothing to do but shake your head with a disbelieving sigh. And sometimes, the universe, purposeful and downright cruel or just bluntly uncaring, sharpened into a deadly point cutting along your heart and laughing in your pain.
It felt especially serrated at school. You had never enjoyed it all that much, mostly because of how lonely the hallways felt, despite how fast they moved as shoulders hit against yours without care or apology. Your parents also required a lot of help around the house with their double and triple shifts, your already bruised shoulders feeling too much weight as you ran home right after school to be there for them. This didn’t leave much time for friends, and the world felt safer if you kept your head down, slinking into your seat while avoiding anyone’s eyes.
By the time your parents found better jobs, and you finally got the courage to pick your head up, everyone had already made their friend groups, none of which included you. You spent the first day of middle school eating lunch by yourself and walking home with quick steps until the door shut behind you. The days passed this way, weeks and months alone in an isolating school ready to eat you whole.
It wasn’t until an overcast Tuesday well into the year that your life changed, though you didn’t know it at the time. Outside the classroom, the clouds allowed the dirty spring snow to rest a few days longer in its shadows, but you could see tiny blades of grass fighting to poke through into the light.
You would never admit it, but you thought back to that day a lot, the moment you officially met your saving grace. Sitting in biology, you were grouped into pairs for a project. This wasn’t the first time, but they had all been different. You would get the assignment done, keep the talking to a minimum, and hope that saying less would make the days pass easier.
But on that day, the teacher called your name along with Peter Parker’s. You had seen him around school before, always with his cute floppy head of hair and goofy smile talking to his friends Gwen and Harry. You had grabbed the project sheet and sat at a table next to him, beginning to hastily write in your notebook a list of ideas for the project. You planned to just push it over to your partner at the end and let him decide, but before you finished, you saw the eraser end of a pencil tap the top of your notebook. And finally, after too long spent shielding yourself from the clouded sky, you lifted your head to look at sunshine come to life.
Peter grinned, tilting his head at you. “I was going to ask if you wanna brainstorm ideas, but it looks like you’re already almost done,” he said.
You looked between the notebook and him, stuttering, “Oh, um, yeah, we can brainstorm if you want. What are you thinking?” You held your pencil above the paper, ready to record any ideas he said. You felt the way your hand shook a little, not used to making actual conversation with another student or the way his gaze felt on you.
He listed off a bunch of ideas, some far too advanced for this class and others that actually sounded interesting. You two decided on a project based on the spherification process, turning different drinks into semi-solid balls that can pop in your mouth like candy. The way he waved his hands in the air describing the principles that made this possible made you smile, excited for something school-related for once.
As the bell rang, Peter began packing up his things, hastily shoving everything crumpled into a ball into his backpack. “We can talk more about it at lunch if you want – my friends and I usually eat near the back,” he told you, practically offering you a hand up out of the hole you sat in with just his words. He said, “They’re gonna love talking to you!” while waving goodbye.
You gave a weak wave, your voice not quite finding the words to respond before he was gone. Watching him walk out of the classroom, his backpack still open and papers nearly falling out, you smiled and let out a breath you had been holding since the start of the year.
You thought back to that day as the start of so much. Peter’s friends really did love having you around, all three of them waving you over to their table at lunch. Gwen made it her mission to become your friend, determined to get some space from these obnoxious boys. They made you laugh and smile until your face hurt, and you sat there grateful for Peter and his neverending kindness toward everyone, especially you.
Gwen asked about your favorite color, where you lived, and what pets you had. But Harry, with a cold cafeteria pizza in his mouth, asked, “Okay, but if you turned into a dragon, what would it look like? Because we’ve all chosen our dragons. Mine would be white on the bottom and dark on the top like a killer whale, so it couldn’t be seen by prey or enemies.”
You thought about the question, a tad worried he would take your answer very seriously, but Peter said in between bites of applesauce, “Harry, whales are colored that way so they’re not visible from the top or bottom. Who is going to see your dragon body from the top if you’re flying all the time?”
“I’m sure there’d be humans coming to hunt me while I’m on the ground feasting!” Harry proclaimed, and the two of them got into a very scientific discussion on the camouflage patterns of dragons, making you laugh while Gwen rolled her eyes.
Leaving the cafeteria once lunch finished felt… empty. Almost like the few days after a vacation somewhere new, and you had to adjust back to normal life. Before you left the building at the end of the day, the three of them found you and invited you to go bowling that weekend. That day, you ran home as usual, but this time in excitement to tell your parents about your new friends when they got done with work.
They saw the way you bounced up and down, words falling out of your mouth too fast as you spoke about Peter, Gwen, and Harry. When they offered to drive you to the bowling alley and meet the other parents, the weekend couldn’t come fast enough, even though you still saw them at lunch every day.
There had been bowling alley food and drinks, and the bowling itself was fine, but your parents got to see your toothy smile they hadn’t seen in a while as you laughed with your friends. Most of it had been at gutter balls, but then a thundering crash sounded from the end of your bowling lane, your head turning to see who nailed a strike that fast.
That’s when you first saw Uncle Ben, who high-fived everyone and yelled, “Still got it!” He came last to Aunt May, who you had briefly met, their hands entwining while Peter went up to bowl his turn. You looked at everyone there and suddenly couldn’t wait to start your life with these people.
The four of you spent the next years inseparable, always at one another’s houses. You never went over to Harry’s much, though you knew better than to pry, given how he tensed when speaking of his father. But you all loved spending time at Peter’s, doing homework on the living room floor together until the afternoon sun began to stretch into the evening. The family dinners were your favorite.
Sitting around the table, you listened to Uncle Ben (who had basically become everyone’s uncle) tell stories of young Peter that left you doubled over laughing and Peter with red cheeks, which just made him look even more adorable. Aunt May would hush Ben, telling him to stop embarrassing the poor boy. A few minutes later, though, she’d always find more cute childhood pictures to show the three of you.
Harry’s favorite was one of Peter in just a diaper covered head to toe in cake and blue frosting, and Gwen pointed out one of him sitting on a pony at some birthday party. But the pointy birthday hat had fallen over his eyes, giving him a bit of a unicorn horn. Your favorite, though, was one of Peter holding hands with two adults, swinging up off the ground with the widest smile you’d ever seen.
You assumed it was May and Ben in the picture until you saw the way Peter stared at the photo, like he was trying to relive that moment in his head. It had to be his mom and dad holding on to young Peter’s little hands, and you could only imagine how he felt. You weren’t sure what to do, so you just rested your head on his shoulder, breaking him from his faraway gaze for a brief second. His usual grin returned as Aunt May brought out her famous wheat cakes.
He clapped his hands together and licked his lips obnoxiously, making you laugh and hit his arm lightly. You never knew the beauty of wheat cakes until coming to the Parker's house, but you weren’t one to turn down breakfast for dinner.
Then, as night grew closer, there was always a heavy sigh weighing on you, a pull to stay there, safe, at home with them. But you’d lay in bed hours later, excited for the next day when you got to see them again, a chorus of their laughs playing in your head as you fell asleep.
When the four of you entered high school, not much had changed, at first. Classes were a bit harder, but you had each other to lean back on. You all eventually got your driver’s licenses and drove back and forth between houses and the school, taking turns carpooling there or to the skate park and mall.
One night, Peter was driving the four of you back from a late-night showing of some action comedy you had all seen together. You looked into the back seat, finding Harry and Gwen both fast asleep. Gwen rested her chin on her hand while Harry’s head hung forward, which was sure to hurt when he woke up.
Turning your gaze back forward, you notice the flickering orange light of lamp posts passing through the car. They glowed against the night sky, making the stars twinkle a little brighter. You looked left at Peter, watching the way the light reflected against his glasses. You weren’t sure how it happened so slowly, but he had grown so much in the past few years.
He was taller, making his body somehow look even leaner than before. You liked how his hair swooped backward now that he had learned how to style it as something other than a mop covering his eyes. He had finally grown facial hair, though it was just a little stubble running along his cheeks. He had grown up so lovely right before your eyes, and you hadn’t seen it.
His head turned to look at you, his dark eyes catching yours. You instead peered at the road, your face hot, certain he had felt your staring. His sly grin grew, and you just laughed a bit, trying to bring yourself to hate how smug he looked, but you had always loved that smile of his. It felt brighter than any of the stars or lights surrounding you.
In a whispered tone, he asked, “How’d you like the movie?” His eyes never left the road, but you knew he was paying attention.
You leaned back against the headrest and let out a quiet sigh. “It was fun; those actors are always so funny,” you told him, glancing back at his face. “Though I’m not sure I could hear it very well with your loud laughing in my ear the whole time,” you said, a smile evident in your voice.
He let out a hushed scoff, “It was not that loud. It was much quieter than those stupid comments you kept making.”
You faked a gasp, “Peter, you know you love my jokes, even if they are dumb.” You both laughed, and that’s why you always leaned over to him to say a silly joke, to hear that beautiful laugh. The car fell into a comfortable silence the rest of the way home, your heart feeling full and happy. You had wished, as always, to stay with them as he dropped you off at your house, but you just waved goodbye.
And just like you didn’t know that day you met Peter would change your life around, you didn’t know you were in the best times until they were over. As high school continued on, you began to see less and less of them over time. It started with a missed lunch here, a movie night cut short there, but each time one of you wasn’t there, you felt it.
You still tried meeting up for lunch and after school, but Harry threw himself into his studies (which you assumed he did to impress his father). You tried to console him and help him with homework, all of you did, but he withdrew into himself more and more with each passing day. He joined study groups, after-school programs, and tutoring until it became just the three of you then.
Until Gwen slowly shifted toward the student org she ran – the women in science club. She became president in no time and ran it beautifully, as you knew she would. You helped her make some flyers for events, and she still joined the lunch table once in a while, but you saw her with her club friends more and more often. Your side felt empty and cold without her leaning into it while trying not to spit food everywhere from laughing so hard.
And then it was two. You still enjoyed throwing cold fries and stale bread at Peter, sometimes still visiting his house (which you teased Peter by saying it was only because of his aunt and uncle). But at the lunch table, he would sometimes just sit there with his head on his hand. Sometimes, he’d stare into nothing, and sometimes, you’d catch him staring at MJ Watson sitting with her friends, most of them also in the theater program.
It wasn’t until Peter joined the photography club and started trying for that Daily Bugle internship that you really felt lonely. He’d run past you in the halls, yelling, “I can’t make it to lunch today!” just about every other day.
You found a couple of other students with similar interests as you, but they weren’t Peter, Gwen, and Harry. They didn’t make you forget your own problems at home or bring homemade wheat cakes during finals. It hit particularly hard on a cold Tuesday, the day you found out the news.
You didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but you had a sickly, gnawing feeling in your stomach as soon as you got to school. You texted Peter about plans for after school, but he didn’t return it. You searched for him around school, hoping to find him in his classes, but he was nowhere to be found. It was so unlike him to up and disappear without at least mentioning something, and he didn’t answer any calls either. You finally tracked down Harry and Gwen at lunch when you couldn’t take it anymore.
You grabbed Harry by his sleeve and dragged him over to Gwen, where you interrupted her conversation, motioning her to follow with a pointed look. With a small huff, she got up after the two of you. Harry asked, “What is it?”
The three of you stood so close, and you could feel the heat coming off their bodies. It felt particularly hard in your stomach to remember you hadn’t been this close to them in a while. You breathed out a long sigh and grabbed their hands, squeezing them while saying, “It’s Peter. I can’t find him anywhere.”
That hard weight in your stomach sunk deep when you saw their furrowed eyebrows as they looked at each other. Gwen spoke up, “So?”
You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and said, “I don’t know, he’s not answering my calls or anything. I just have this horrible feeling that something’s happened.” You knew it sounded melodramatic to them, but it was Peter. You all knew he’d be there for you if it was the other way around. At least you thought so, but everything else was changing…
You pulled at their hands, urging them to follow as you said, “Come on, we gotta go check his house. Check in with May to see if she knows anything.”
They started to move, but their steps stuttered and eventually dropped your hands. Gwen and Harry looked back at their lunch tables and at their new friends – friends they might now know better than you guys know each other.
Gwen spoke up first, softly saying, “We can’t just skip school like this. I mean, he might not even be there, or there might not even be anything wrong.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, he could just be sick for all we know. I can’t really risk getting in trouble right now,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “especially with how my dad’s been lately.”
You shifted back a little, your heart beating hard against your chest, the pounding ricocheting in your ears. “Are you serious? Guys, this is Peter. We wouldn’t do that.”
Gwen just said, “I’m sorry,” as she grabbed your hand and gave it a single squeeze. “We’ll swing by after school.” She bit her lip and corrected herself, “Actually, after the club’s meeting.”
You just pressed your mouth tight and turned around toward the Parker house, your home at one point. It wasn’t too far from school, and if nothing was wrong, you could make it back without missing too much.
Any explanations you were rehearsing in your head about why you randomly showed up at their house disappeared when you saw the cop car outside the porch steps. Running to the door, your whole body felt on edge, like it was building up to the teetering drop-off of a cliff. You knocked on the door, every second passing feeling much too long.
When the door finally swung open, any air in your body left at the sight of Aunt May with red eyes and a crumpled tissue in her hand. She broke down, throwing her arms around your shoulders while sniffling, “Oh, dear…”
You hugged her, rubbing your hand along her back and fearing that something had happened to Peter. Unsure of what to do about the shakes coursing through her body, you just stood there, holding her upright. Usually, it was her consoling you kids.
She pulled back, looking at you for a few moments before inviting you inside. You peered past her to see a police officer sitting at the kitchen table talking with Peter, who also had teary eyes. You knew better than to interrupt their conversation, but you couldn’t contain your relief and went running to him, enveloping him in a hug so tight it knocked the wind out of him.
“Peter, I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You felt his hands wrap around you, but they were wavering. You pulled back, looking between him and the cop.
You heard May’s soft voice from behind you say, “It’s Uncle Ben. He was attacked last night, and,” her voice wavered, and she had to take a deep breath.
“And he was murdered by some monster.” You whipped your head back around to look at Peter, his hands balled into fists that he pounded into the table. Your eyes widened, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. A million questions raced through your mind as tears began to form.
The police officer motioned for you to sit down, moving the box of tissues closer to you. You took them as he explained some of the information they currently had on the incident. Your eyes glazed over as you listened, your body unable to keep up with everything while trying to come to terms that you wouldn’t get to talk with Uncle Ben again.
Peter exhaled a long breath beside you, and you moved your hand on top of his. You tried tracing small circles on his skin but felt his muscles tense. You lifted away from him, just barely ghosting over his hand. You turned to look at him, his face looking tired and his hair tangled from running his fingers through it repeatedly, but he refused to look back at you.
It wasn’t until the officer left that you even remembered Gwen and Harry. You turned to Aunt May, your mouth opening and closing before saying, “Is it okay if I tell the others to come over? I think they’d want to know, but it’s okay if you want to just be left alone.”
She gave a sweet smile and her eyes crinkled. “Of course, they’re family.”
You smiled back, warmed by her words even if it hadn’t felt like much of a family for a while. You texted them to get to the house as soon as possible, forgetting about clubs and school. You were afraid they wouldn’t answer or tell you that they couldn’t make it, but Harry texted a minute later that they were on their way.
May had been busying herself with tidying up the place and shooed you off when you offered to help. You let her be but felt strange as you saw Peter, who hadn’t moved in ages. You knew his mind was reeling, that look in his eyes only present when he was determined to solve something. It weirded you out a little, but there was a knock at the door before you could say anything.
You rushed to it and ushered Gwen and Harry inside. The next few hours passed in a blur of deep grief and reminiscing as the five of you tried processing everything. You repeated what the cop had told you, breaking down a few times at the unfairness of it all.
The three of you offered to help May and Peter out in any way you could. Gwen was already making a grocery list for them while Harry got to work on things they needed to plan the funeral. You vowed to come over every day for anything they needed, half-joking that you needed to keep Aunt May from cleaning the house so much it’d feel like living in a department store showroom.
She just laughed, pulling you three into a long hug. Gwen and Harry eventually got up to head home, promising they’ll bring everything tomorrow. You were quietly talking with May, about to leave as well, when you saw Peter finally stand up. He pushed his chair out far and walked toward the stairs with heavy steps and a clenched jaw. With furrowed eyebrows, you excused yourself and followed him upstairs.
“Peter! Peter, wait. Are you… okay?” You shook your head. “I’m sorry, that’s a bad question. I meant, can I help? Did you want to talk?”
He stopped right in front of his bedroom, turning to look you in the eyes for what felt like the first time in months. Maybe it was. He sighed and rubbed his hands across his face, his fingers curling into his skin as he let out a long groan. “No. I don’t want to talk. Thanks for the help and everything,” he said, his eyebrows raised and voice growing strained, “but I’m good. Just… I’ll see you at the funeral, okay?”
And before you can even respond, he walked into his room and shut the door hard enough to make you jump. You heard a quiet “sorry” from the other side, and then… silence, something you would grow accustomed to over time.
You came back every day with Gwen and Harry as promised, but you rarely saw Peter while helping with funeral preparations. You barely got to talk with Peter and May at the dreary funeral later that week, their minds occupied with grief and welcoming the many people that came from all over for Uncle Ben.
For the next several months, over the chilly winter season, you felt so far away from Peter. He came back to school the following week, but just his body. His mind was always elsewhere, his eyes staring at nothing when at one point, they seemed to hold everything. He skipped most lunches, but it felt just as lonely when he did join you. Harry and Gwen would sit by you guys when he showed up, but all conversation would fall flat as he only spoke a few words at a time, if at all.
You still visited their house occasionally, mostly to check up on Aunt May at that point. Winter rolled around before you knew it, and you tramped your way through the snow to bring some gifts to them. May brought you inside, taking your coat and pushing you toward the fireplace. You laughed, happy to see that she seemed better. Despite your protests to rest a little, she had been pouring herself into helping at the local soup kitchen.
“It keeps my mind and body busy. I’ll be okay,” she said, bringing you in for a hug and asking, “Now, dear, did you bring all these for us?” She gestured to the presents.
“Oh, yeah. Hanukkah presents for you and Peter,” you responded.
“I completely forgot. I’m so sorry,” she said. When you waved her off, she offered, “I did make dessert. Is that good enough?”
As soon as she said it, you smelled the wheat cakes from the kitchen. “Oh, May, that is more than enough. Thank you.”
“Great, let me just call Peter down,” she said.
While waiting, you looked around the house. It was a little messier, but not too much had changed, though it felt emptier, colder with only half of you there. The air changed just slightly once Peter walked down the stairs, his head down in his phone.
Despite everything, it still felt like a breath of fresh air whenever you saw him, like everything was going to be okay. You wished you could make him feel the same way. As the three of you sat down, May uncovered the pile of wheat cakes, the lid still keeping them warm.
You and Aunt May made talk here and there about classes and the weather, but once your stomachs were happy and full, she nudged Peter’s side. “Peter, it looks like we have some special gifts. Do you want to open them?” she asked.
She sounded like a mother speaking to a child, but it got him to finally look up at you and say something. “Oh, thanks.”
May scoffed at his answer and reached for a small present with her name scribbled across it. She opened it up and laughed, seeing the packet of homemade coupons you’d made. She flipped through it, pointing out some funny ones like “Free dad joke.” But she gasped when she saw others that you had snuck in there, like real coupons for people to come professionally clean or cook for them a couple times a year.
You said, “Gwen and Harry also chipped in for those; they’ve just been pretty busy lately.” A sorry smile spread across your face.
“This is so wonderful, thank you. It will be such a relief to get this place back in order,” she told you, squeezing your hand as she said, “and back to normal.”
You squeezed back, then said, “This one is for you, Peter, though I’m sure both of you will love it.”
Peter took the larger present, unwrapping it a bit haphazardly. He pulled the gift out, revealing a photo album. On the cover, it held a picture of all of you from years ago: Uncle Ben and Aunt May standing in the back while Gwen hopped on Peter’s back for a piggyback ride, and you and Harry were holding up “bunny ears” behind each other’s heads. You had set up a self-timer to get this one, and although it was chaotic, it was the best one you got. And it had always been your favorite.
You spoke up, pointing out pictures as Peter flipped through the pages. “It’s got all of our photos from over the years. There are some of us at the zoo, and there’s one of us hanging up Halloween decorations. Uncle Ben always hated that scarecrow we put up,” you said, laughing at a photo of him posing angrily next to it.
You heard May sniffle as she said, “Oh, it’s perfect. I can’t believe you kept all of these.”
Smiling back at her, you’re thankful they like it, though you noticed Peter getting that faraway look again as he stared at each of the photos. You patted his hand and said, “I left some open spots in case you wanted to add any other pictures. I think it’s missing one of you covered in frosting.”
A small grin graced his face, and it felt like the clouds had opened up just a little, letting in the smallest sliver of sunlight in. He talked about some of the other photos, the three of you reminiscing about all the great times.
As the night wrapped up, you gave both of them hugs. When you pulled away, though, you saw Peter return to that person you no longer knew. And you stared at him for a moment before waving goodbye, stepping out into the dark, snowy world, not knowing that was one of the last times you’d see him smile at you for years.
Months passed in a blur until a couple of weeks before the school year ended. You hadn’t seen much of Gwen, Harry, or Peter in a while, part of you just accepting this change. It hurt looking over at them and seeing their wide smiles with other friends, so you did your best to ignore them and keep your head down, like old times.
That was until everything came to a crashing halt. One morning, your parents announced that you would be moving at the end of the school year, across the country, where you would finish your last two years of school. They had gotten new jobs and could get a bigger house, finally giving the family a good life, as your father had put it, but you couldn’t care less. It felt like a punch to the gut, their words lost on your ringing ears.
You left the house early, your eyes filled with tears. You tried calming your erratic breaths in and out, but they didn’t want to cooperate. You found a park bench to sit on, staring at the grass against your shoes so no one saw your bloodshot eyes. And because it was so sunny out. There were so few clouds in the sky, the blue so stark against the piercing sun. It didn’t feel right for the birds to be singing, people cheerily chatting, and the sun to be so bright on a day like this. On a Tuesday.
You eventually made your way to school early, unable to sit with your tears much longer. Before the bell rang, you stood outside the school entrance waiting for them. The couple of people that would care, that needed to know.
You found Harry first. He sluggishly walked toward the school, headphones on and mind unaware of the world. You rested your hand on his arm, startling him from his daze with a small gasp.
“Hey!” you said with a small wave. He greeted back with a nod, looking at you expectantly, and the silence felt stifling. Clearing your throat, you asked, “I, um, hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today? I have some news, and we could hang out at Peter’s like we used to.”
He breathed in through clenched teeth, squinting his eyes a bit. “I actually have a study group after school today. Maybe tomorrow?” he offered.
You bit your lip, some sort of emotion building in your throat, but you just agreed, saying, “Yeah, we can try that.” He nodded, putting on his headphones and leaving, barely a goodbye falling from his mouth.
Gwen came next. You felt unsure as she walked in with some other science students, but you were determined to tell her. Just like Harry, she offered an apologetic smile. “Today and tomorrow are fundraising events for the org. Maybe Thursday?”
You sighed and nodded your head, your chest welling up even tighter. Through the sea of students, you craned your neck to find Peter. Maybe he would at least say something to change this day around.
You caught a glimpse of his bouncing brown hair above everyone else, a smile spreading across your face at the sight. Taking quick steps over to him, you tapped his shoulder, but he didn’t stop moving. All he said was, “Oh, I won’t be–”
“Be at lunch, I know,” You said, cutting off his daily mantra. “This is about something else. I have some news I gotta share with you guys, but Gwen and Harry are busy until Friday. Would you be free then for all of us to hang out?” you ask, your heart filled with so much hope, pleading for him to say yes.
“Um…” he said, not looking at you. He finally stopped as he got to his locker, distractedly putting away notebooks and grabbing other ones. “Friday, Friday. This Friday? Uh, oh, actually I can’t. I have plans Friday,” he mumbled, closing his locker.
You’re about to open your mouth and ask what his plans are when he whipped his head to the side and stared with a smile so wide you thought he’d hurt himself. And in that brief moment, you felt that your heart was nearly going to explode from how happy he looked, a peacefulness you hadn’t seen in so long.
As you turned your head to follow his gaze, your heart instead deflated a bit. He stared head over heels at MJ walking toward the two of you. He said, “Well, actually, there are my Friday plans.”
You pursed your lips and nodded. In a hollow voice, you asked, “Next week, then?” You pushed your fingernails into your palm to distract yourself from the dam about to burst inside you.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. You were almost positive he didn’t even hear what you said, and you turned to walk down the hallway before he could utter another word. You even tried texting them later that day to confirm plans but received vague thumbs-up emojis or a “K.”
And it was on that too-sunny Tuesday that it felt that your friendship with them as you knew it had ended. You thought about texting them a million times, but you were tired – tired of being the one holding on so tight when they would rather let go. So you didn’t tell them.
Those last few weeks at school seemed like it had all those years ago. Your eyes barely seemed to leave the ground, and you stayed up in your room more often than not when you got home every day. You slowly began packing up the house, the walls and floors looking so empty as the day you would shove your life into a car grew closer.
And though you were still sad or angry or both at your friends, a few days before you left, you were determined to say something to them about your departure, about this end of an era that had already ended. You planned to stop at their houses, one by one, and say goodbye. You wrote up some letters in case they weren’t home to explain your feelings – to Harry, Gwen, Peter, and Aunt May. It somehow felt better than sending off a text or a voicemail since they rarely answered calls anyway.
You first went to Harry’s, the enormous house standing menacingly over the city. You hadn’t expected him to be home, probably at some study group or event his father required him at, and you were right. Instead, a woman who worked for the family answered the door and let you know that Harry was occupied elsewhere.
You handed her the letter with his name neatly printed on the envelope and thanked her for passing it along to him. You mostly had written about what you hoped for his future life, that you would be sad to miss out on seeing the incredible person you knew he was meant to be. You reminisced here and there but tried keeping it light.
As you said goodbye to the woman, you saw a man pass through the hallway. His tall figure turned to you, and you knew it was Norman Osborn staring indignantly at you. And then the door shut, and you turned around with your heart in your throat.
You arrived a bit later to Gwen’s house, and the realization that you were hoping she wasn’t home had you biting your lip. She had once been so happy to have a girl to be friends with, and it had sometimes been hard seeing her have so many that weren’t you. As you pulled up to her street, your stomach dropped a little at seeing how many cars were outside the house.
Knocking on the front door, you found that not only was Gwen home but so was nearly the entire women in science club. Her father opened the door, a look of shock and happiness on her face. “Oh! What a sight for sore eyes! Come in, come in. I didn’t know you were part of Gwen’s club.”
Your words didn’t come easy, but you stumbled out, “Oh, I was actually just here to talk to Gwen, but she seems busy.” You looked past his shoulder and saw her standing in front of the other women, looking like she was practicing a speech with a tall stack of notecards. “Would you be able to give this to her?”
You handed him the envelope. It had her name and some small doodles on the outside. Her dad nodded, taking the letter and giving you a smile before you walked away. Back in your car, you closed your eyes for a few moments and let out a long breath. Most of what you had written was about your happiest memories with her and some of the pride you felt at seeing her become so successful already, not that you were surprised. You had also enclosed a purple hand-pressed flower that you two had made years ago, the rest of them now packed away, as you couldn’t bring yourself to leave them.
And then, you found yourself in front of Peter’s house, parking in the same spot on the street as you always did, only doing so usually felt much happier. Your heart beat in time to your rapid knocking on their door, but it calmed the second your eyes fell upon Aunt May. With an excited “Oh!” she immediately pulled you in for a tight hug and invited you in. Stepping across into the house felt like coming home.
She got to work on offering drinks and snacks as she always did. “I have time to make these fancy snacks now since I don’t have to spend time cleaning. Thank you again for that; it truly is a gift that keeps on giving,” she said, patting your back. “It’s been especially nice since Peter hasn’t been around as much lately to help out.”
Your eyebrows raised, concerned that he had been absent from both school and home. “Speaking of Peter, is he here at the moment?” you asked with a bouncing leg and fingers tight against the letters in your lap.
Her voice sounded quieter, though you hoped it was because her back was to you. “No, he’s out somewhere. Sometimes it’s with that sweet girl MJ, but sometimes he’s been elsewhere,” she said, turning to look at you. “He won’t tell me what’s going on, but he’ll come back bruised, and I’m afraid he’s in trouble. You haven’t seen anything at school, have you?” You shook your head, eyes cast down at the table as you traced a finger along the wood grain. “No, I haven’t really seen much of him there. Is he okay?”
She sighed, putting her head in her hand. “I think so? But I really don’t know with that boy. After Uncle Ben… he’s changed.”
Giving a small nod, you cleared your throat and said, “He’s tough. I’m sure he’s taking care of himself. I, um, I just came by to tell you guys the news. My family is moving, and we leave in a couple of days.” You finally bring your gaze to look at hers, and you almost wish you hadn’t when you see the way her face dropped.
“Oh, dear,” she whispered before crossing the room to you and holding you. The tears that had held in for weeks finally let loose as she wrapped her warm arms around you. She let out quiet shushes and rubbed your back. You eventually pulled back, and she took your hands in hers. You stared down at the sunspots and loving wrinkles adorning the back of her hands and up her body.
Your tears turned to occasional sniffles, and you handed Peter’s letter to May, asking her to pass it along to him. She carefully took it, her fingers rubbing against the ink of his name with a frown. “I’m sure he will love the letter, but I will make him call you. You deserve a real goodbye, love.”
“It’s okay, May. We don’t really talk much anyway, so I think this is a fine goodbye for us,” you said, your teeth chewing on the inside of your mouth. It turned into a small smile at thinking of what you had written. It was filled with old memories that made you laugh, but it also held your confession and gratitude for how Peter forever changed your life. It was a sappy letter full of love and regret, and you were glad to not have to say any of it out loud.
You were drawn from your thoughts as May spoke up again, saying, “You know, I really do love this Mary Jane. He seems happy with her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect you and him to be together one day.” When you just looked at her with a blank face, she said, “He looked at you with what can only be described as love. Uncle Ben used to have that same look.”
Her words knocked a breath from your chest, and you were too exhausted and unhappy to really entertain the thought of Peter liking you. You were leaving, and that would be the end of it. May, sensing your quiet internal battle, stood up and got to work in the kitchen. While taking out the ingredients, she said, “How about one more batch for old time’s sake?” The two of you ate the wheat cakes in content silence, and you looked at this woman who had become your own aunt, practically your mother, and knew that’s where Peter got his unending kindness from.
A few days later, your family began packing up the car and a trailer of course, of course, on the Tuesday after school ended. Your dad hoped to make it to your new home by the weekend and get settled by that Monday. Sweat pilled on your forehead as you lifted box after box. You were thankful for the heat and work to do to distract yourself from being washed away at the sight of your emptying house.
After setting another box labeled “FRAGILE” into the trailer, you turned around to find Gwen pulling up, tires screeching as she parked crooked and raced out of the car. Her voice rose high as she shouted, “What is this?” She ran to you, holding the letter tight in her hands. “I mean, you’re just up and leaving?”
You opened your mouth to answer but closed it as a sleek car pulled, one you recognized as Harry’s. He popped out of the car, his eyes locked on yours. He was out of breath and his hair wild as he approached the two of you. You had written the time you were planning on leaving but couldn’t help but feel sad that they didn’t read the letters until right before you were meant to drive away.
Harry looked at Gwen and the letter in her hands. “Oh, you got one too! So this isn’t some terrible joke you’re pulling on us?” he asked in disbelief, his eyes scanning over the trailer and boxes.
You played with the hem of your shirt and looked anywhere but them, afraid it would let everything loose. “I tried telling you guys earlier, but…” you said and let out a long breath. You debated letting all your anger and tears out, but you couldn’t destroy everything right before leaving, so you sugar-coated it. “We never got together, and you guys were pretty busy. I just thought it’d be easier this way.”
As Gwen pulled you into a hug, and you soon felt Harry’s body join in, you whispered, “I’m going to miss you guys.” You willed yourself to keep it in, to just focus on the way Gwen’s hair brushed against your skin and the way Harry’s breath tickled against your ear, and the fact that they showed up to say goodbye. You tried to sear this moment in your mind.
When the three of you pulled back, they offered to help you pack things into the trailer. Your parents were ecstatic to see them, inviting them in for some car ride snacks and bottled water. In an instant, you were back in middle school again, cracking jokes and messing with each other.
A little bit later, you found yourself outside trying to pack a lamp at just the right angle with Harry. It was just the two of you out there, Gwen inside helping your parents grab the very last things. You finally got it to fit perfectly and high-fived each other with wide smiles.
As his grin faded, he cleared his throat and said, “I came to say goodbye, obviously, but I also wanted to say thank you.” At your furrowed eyebrows, he continued, “Thank you for what you said in the letter, I mean. I can get pretty lost in my own head sometimes, and I’m grateful when you bring me back.”
You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing you didn’t have to say anything. He knew you’d always be there for him. Gwen and your parents came back out, and it was time. She came and gave a final hug, weepily saying, “You better send us pictures of out west, or else.”
It gets a teary laugh out of you, and you responded, “As long as you send pictures of you as valedictorian or the president of the U.S., whichever happens first.”
The three of you said your goodbyes, and it took a bit long to finally let go. In the embrace, you still peered out on the street, looking for one last car to show up. But it never did. You eventually got into the car and waved at Gwen and Harry as it pulled away. Trees and grass and buildings and people you had come to love passed by in a blur. You let out a long sigh, thinking of whether your letter to Peter just wasn’t enough for him to show up.
Peter,
I hope you’re doing well.
I feel like I should know how you’re doing, but it seems lately that we are on two different islands, like there’s an ocean between us or something. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic for describing our friendship, but I wish I could’ve visited your island more often.
Would it be dramatic to say you changed my life? I hope you remember that day we were paired up for that science project because I’ve never forgotten – not the way Dr. Pepper exploded all over you or the way you invited me into your life. The Parkers became a second family to me, to all of us, and I could never repay you for that kindness.
I’m sure by now you have that classic Peter look of confusion on your face, wondering why this letter feels like a goodbye. Do you know that one Winnie the Pooh quote that goes “How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” In looking for a bit of the bright side in this dark sky, I guess the distance between us has made saying goodbye a little less hard.
The bottom line: I’m leaving on Tuesday, sometime before noon. We’ll be across the country by the weekend, and I’ll finish up school there. I planned to tell you all in person, but I guess we never quite found the right time. Between you and me, I still think about how our friendship could’ve been. How we ended up here. What we could’ve done differently to get that happy ending.
I hope you come to say goodbye or at least harass me while I pack my stuff. I miss the way things were, Peter. How it felt so easy for the four of us, how easy you made my life. But our friendship doesn’t feel easy anymore, and I’m not sure I can keep our friendship alive by myself. Hopefully, I’ll be here for you again when you come back to us.
I still wonder where you went after that night, mentally I mean. I’m so sorry about everything with Uncle Ben. He truly was a beacon of light, and I still see that in you. And though you never talked to us about it, I sincerely hope you figure things out someday.
And also figure out how special you are. You truly have a gift to be shared with the world. Can’t wait to see you in the news one day. Go easy on yourself, and please give Aunt May some extra hugs for me while I’m gone.
You had drawn a quick heart at the end with watery eyes and attached old photos of the group, your favorite memories scribbled onto the back. You hoped the tears that had fallen on the page were dry now and unnoticeable.
The welcome sign to the next city flew past the car, and you laid back against the headrest. You guess all it took for your friends to reunite was your leaving, and yet it wasn’t enough for Peter to show. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. In that bumpy car ride, leaving your home and a piece of your heart there, you promised this would be the last time you let Peter make you feel this way.
And you didn’t know it until years later, but Peter did show up. His ratty car sputtered onto the street and parked halfway in the grass, the other half making it in the driveway. Neither you or your family were there, your car having left just an hour earlier. But you had already blocked his number in your determination to keep him from breaking your heart again. As your eyes stared out the window, watching the way the world passed by, you refused to look back.