Spider-Man Imagines I

I Wouldn't Miss It For The World (Part Three) | Peter Parker [TH]

Peter had barely gotten through the front door before Aunt May was tapping her foot, her face twisted up in a disappointed frown. He simply raised his eyebrows at her, popped one earbud out of his ear, and she went off.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, why did you lie to ___ about me being sick?" she scolded. His face paled and he opened his mouth. The look on her face made him snap his jaw shut. "Not only that, but you promised to go to a concert you had no intention of going to just to hang out with other friends! What am I going to do with you? You disappear all of the time and you're hanging out with people that aren't ___! She's such a sweet girl, Peter, why would you hurt her like that?" She stopped, breathing heavily.

Peter felt sick to his stomach. "D-Did ___ come down here?"

She nodded. "That sweet girl brought me homemade soup and bread because she thought I was sick. She didn't even get mad when I told her the truth, or what I know as the truth. She just looked absolutely heartbroken."

Heartbroken.

Peter felt the same. His bag slipped off of his shoulder, jerking his arm as it hooked on the crook of his elbow. He dropped the bag to the floor and blinked away sudden tears that overcame him.

"Did she say anything?"

"Not much," May said softly, shaking her head. "You hurt her badly, Peter. I don't get it. Do you not want to be friends with her? She's such a good girl... I always thought you two would, you know... end up together."

"I-I want to be her friend and I want to be more b-but Flash Thompson is her brother and I don't want to ruin their relationship and possibly have him hate me even more."

May shook her head and dropped it, tucking hair behind her ear. "Peter... that doesn't mean you should ever try to leave her like that," she whispered. "You were her best friend. Best friends don't leave each other like that."

"What should I do?" he asked, looking and sounding helpless.

"Apologize," she said, "and explain everything you haven't told her. I mean it, Peter. Everything."

"She'll never believe me," he croaked. "She'll never forgive me."

"That doesn't matter," she said. "You can't just leave her like this."

...

Peter sat on his bed, his phone in his hands. His thumbs tapped wildly on the screen, spewing pleading message after pleading message that you would just leave on read.

He didn't know what all to say. Everything he typed felt lame. None of it was enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

___, I am so sorry. Please let me explain.

I get that you're mad.

You probably don't want to talk but I need you to know that I never wanted to avoid you.

Please say something

___ please I know you're reading these please

He didn't receive one answer. He waited all night for a reply. When he dozed off for the night, he woke up every hour or so and checked his phone.

Peter had never felt so horrible.