His mask is off, his head is resting against your window but looking down. Spider-man is sitting on your fire exit, just outside your window. Or so you’re trying to tell yourself.īut you freeze in place, barely a step away from the window. The fresh air will clear your head and tomorrow will be a better day. You feel ridiculous for feeling like this about someone who clearly hasn’t spared you a single thought since saying goodbye. So after enjoying the fantasy in your mind for a long, long time, you feel a few stray tears falling down your face. But it’s all in your head and you know it, deep down you do know it. You’re both lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing at each other, locking eyes, kissing again. He’s smiling, he’s leaning down to kiss you. You swear you can see Peter standing right there in front of you, hand stretched out towards you, asking you to dance. When the fourth shot hits the back of your throat, you’re positively wasted, and you are loving it. And you haven’t indulged in a long time, so it’s going straight to your head… But the alcohol is burning so good down your throat. So you deserve a drink.ĭo you deserve four drinks? Maybe not. And you dropped your coffee on your laptop this morning. You haven’t been able to call your mum, because she’s on holiday. You had done so well, not drunk texting him even once, given your record.īut today is not a good day. He just kept leaving you stranded, with no explanation, no apology text, nothing. But he was sweet, and thoughtful, and hot. It’s not like you had been together (if you could even call it that) for that long. You were embarrassed at how much it had affected you, ending things with him. Peter Parker ghosted you for the last time 6 weeks ago, give or take a few days.
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