WHAT STARTED WITH OCCASIONAL CHECK-IN TEXTS AND SMILES IN HALLWAYS, turned into conversations during passing periods and dinner invites. Over the course of a month, Peter and I started constantly texting. I'm not sure how he got my number, but I don't even care to know because his texts helped me a lot more than I'm willing to admit.

Peter:

Hey, I hope to see you at school today. I've missed seeing you around, and so have your friends :)

Emmie:

i don't think i can handle school today, but thank you Peter :)

Peter:

Of course! I can get some of your work and bring it by tonight for you.

    The first weeks after the accident were really hard. I didn't want to go to school because I'd have to face the reality that Lucía didn't go there anymore. And I definitely didn't want to go to the Sanctum either. It would remind me of how I should've had my sling ring so I could protect Lucía.

Peter:

Hey, how are you doing today?

Emmie:

not the best, but better than yesterday

Peter:

Well I'm glad you're doing just a bit better. Is there anything I can do to help?

Emmie:

honestly, i'm really struggling in algebra rn. would you want to like help me?

Peter:

Yeah of course! Meet in the library tomorrow before school?

Emmie:

thank you. see you then

    I struggled a lot in algebra and physics because I missed so much school so I was behind. Luckily my new friend was a genius, and very willing to help me out. We would meet before school, after school, and during study halls and he would re-teach the lessons I missed to me. My grades began to improve and our friendship began forming.

    Some days would be unbearable. The heavy weight in my chest would feel 10 times heavier and the guilt would almost make me nauseous. I started to realize that I needed to talk to someone. It made the pain more bearable little by little.

As much as I didn't want to dump my feelings onto Peter, he was my only option. Gwen wasn't much of a help with the grieving process, she had both her parents and siblings alive. How could she understand what I felt? I didn't want to bother my mom either. She was mourning too, and I didn't want to make her life any harder than it already was.

I started going over to Peter's apartment on days where I felt I needed to let it all out and on days that I needed a distraction. I began to hate being home because of the constant reminder of Lucía. Sometimes I would show up without warning, or text him before. Overtime, I began to enjoy the company

It was hard for me to open up and be vulnerable at first, but after Peter confided in me about his uncle, I began to feel a little more comfortable in letting my guard down around him. Still, it was a rare occurrence for me to break down in front of him.

"Hey." He greeted me one day when I showed up at his door. I inhaled sharply before I told him what I came here for. If I didn't say it now, I'd change my mind about saying it at all.

"Screw pretending I'm fine." I stopped for a second to recompose myself. "I-I'm not okay."

Internally, I cringed at the way my voice broke. The raw vulnerability I was showing Peter made my skin crawl and I wanted to retract everything I just said. But when his eyes softened and his expression filled with worry, I pushed away those thoughts. He took me into his room and sat at his desk chair while I sat on his bed.

"I just really miss her, Peter." I looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. "And it's my fault that she's gone."

"Emmie.." His sorrowful eyes met mine. "Don't say that."

"No, you don't understand." I shook my head, my eyes deceiving me. "I could have saved her. I-I didn't have my sling ring." He didn't respond and let me explain.

"I hid it for months because I am done with magic. And if I wasn't so selfish I would have had it that night and I-" I choked out a sob, rubbing my forehead. "I could have made a forcefield. I saw it coming! I saw it in slow motion, but I couldn't.."

"I couldn't do anything about it." I take a deep breath, trying to calm down and manage my hand tremors.

"God, I can't live with myself!" I stood up and began pacing the room because my breathing wasn't helping. I ran my shaking hands through my hair, on the verge of pulling it out.

"Lucía is dead! My sister died because of me!" As I broke down in front of him, Peter got up and made his way towards me.

"It's not your fault, Emmie." He calmly stated, his brown eyes capturing mine. He grabbed my shaking hands, in a firm but comforting way. "I know whatever I say will not convince you otherwise. But,"

As I stared into his eyes, I found that it was easier to breathe now. Focusing on the comforting brown of his irises, my breathing, and his words, helped slow my racing mind.

"I'm so sorry. I honestly don't have the words. But I care about you and I'm hurting with you."

And that was enough to help me get by little by little. I didn't want advice or half-hearted condolences, and if I heard "she's in a better place now" one more time I would actually scream. Somehow, Peter knew what to say all the time and he even knew when not to say anything and to just listen.

I owe Peter the world, because if he wasn't here for me, then I don't think I'd get through this at all.

.•¤۞¤•.

EVENTUALLY I STARTED GETTING BACK INTO THE FLOW OF SCHOOL. But it was also my junior year of high school and school work began getting tougher and tougher, not to mention the dreaded SAT's in the spring.

One Thursday night I was up pretty late trying to study for a history test that I put off until the night before. No matter how hard I drilled the material into my head with the help of quizlet, I wasn't seeming to grasp the concepts. I began to give up and started spending more time scrolling through social media than spending time studying.

After who knows how long, I looked up from my phone and at my alarm clock. 1:49 am its blaring red letters spoke to me. Shit, I didn't realize I had been on my phone that long. I decided I needed to get ready for bed, but before I did that I just need to watch one more tiktok.

One turned into two, and two turned into ten, and ten turned into I don't know because a fast tapping noise was coming from my window. I looked toward my window frantically expecting a bird to be there. And oddly enough this bird was shaped like Spider-Man.

I got up and quickly opened the window wondering to myself: What the fuck?

"Hey, uh-" Peter started after he had pulled his mask off.

"Holy shit!" I cut him off once I saw the bruises and cuts on his face and blood seeping out of his suit. "What happened to you?!"

"You should see the other guy." He groaned as he maneuvered his way into my room from my small window. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, it's just your apartment was closer than mine and I didn't know how bad it was.."

"No, no, it's fine." I reassure him, looking frantically around my room spotting a pile of laundry in the corner. Of course Peter Parker waltzed into my bedroom when my room was a mess. "Umm, I'll be right back. I'm gonna get something for that."

I left Peter in my bedroom to go rummage through the medicine cabinet to hopefully find a first aid kit. I didn't even know if we had one, but luckily I found one stashed away in the very back of the cabinet. I quickly tip-toed back to my room, careful not to wake my mom. She'd be livid if she found a boy in my room at 2 am.

I came back to find Peter sitting on my bed, looking intently at an Olivia Rodrigo poster hanging above my dresser.

"So, what exactly happened?" I asked as I made my way to him, first aid kit in hand.

"Bank robbery." He explained as I looked at the contents of the kit. "They put up a pretty good fight, but nothing Spider-Man couldn't handle." We both smiled.

I looked at his face, examining the cuts and forming bruises. It didn't look like anything major. The bigger problem was the blood seeping out of his suit on his chest and abdomen. I froze for a second when I realized he'd have to take off his suit in order for me to get a good luck at the cuts.

"I'm no nurse, but I think you're gonna need to uh.. take off your suit.."

"Oh.. right." He said awkwardly, a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. He pressed the spider emblem on his chest and it released his suit, letting it fall just above his hips. As my eyes searched for the cuts and bruises, I couldn't help but stare at his ridiculously toned body.

Oh my god. Peter Parker is in my room in his boxers.

and he's ripped.

"Emmie."

    "Uh, right." I snapped out of my daze as I began cleaning his wounds. He hissed at the burning. "Sorry." I cringed

    "You didn't have to do this." He said as he looked towards the ceiling. "You could've just kicked me out."

    "Kick you out? No, never." I replied as I continued fixing him up. "You've been here for me for everything I've been dealing with lately. It's the least I could do."

    As I put the last bandage on him, I looked back at his face to find that it was already staring at mine with a wide-eyed expression I've never seen before.

    "Does it feel okay?" I asked, worried I did something wrong.

    "N-No. It's good. Thank you." He tripped over his words, giving me a reassuring smile.

    "Take it easy, okay?" I instructed as I put everything back into the kit. "Those cuts were pretty gnarly."

    "I've got super fast healing powers." He shrugged with a smug expression.

    "Of course you do." I smile.

    "You know, you're on my mind, Emmie." He said out of nowhere. "I'm really glad you're doing better."

    I gave him a polite thank you and helped out the window before he thanked me again and said goodbye. I watched him swing away, thinking to myself: Have I actually been doing better, or have I just been pretending?

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ik peter dropping into her room for emmie to clean up his wounds is such a cliché, but i'm a sucker for that. it's so cute I can't help it

we're getting near the end of this book, and I'm already working on the sequel as we speak.

thank you guys for all of the love and support. idk what I'd do without you guys <3

CJ