Spider-Man Imagines I

Definition of Perfection (Part Two) | Peter Parker [TH]

Sitting in class next to Ned, you sighed. The teacher was ranting on about a topic you couldn't care less about (and couldn't understand). It was just the cherry on top of your oh so perfect day.

Rubbing your temples, you tried to work out the stress that was making your head throb. Ned glanced at you and nodded in understanding.

And Peter just wasn't paying any attention to class at all.

He was still staring at you, and he was trying to figure out just why you would think those things about yourself. He couldn't understand it. When he looked at you, he never thought any of those things.

You caught him staring. He blushed red and looked down at his blank sheet of notebook paper. He picked up his pencil and pretended to write. By the end of class, he only had his name written at the top corner.

...

At lunch, you groaned at the red heart cookie on your tray. Everyone got one for free. Ned picked up his heart shaped cookie, iced pink with red sprinkles, and took a big bite. Peter did, too.

You poked at your bowl of Jell-O with your spoon. Peter frowned, sprinkles falling out off his mouth. He wiped them away.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said. "It just sucks, Pete, cause I brought up all of my feelings and whatever, so." You took a bite of Jell-O and shrugged dramatically. "Whatever."

"___," he said sadly.

Ned swallowed a mouthful of cookie. "Can I have your cookie then?"

"Dude," Peter said, elbowing Ned.

"No," you said. You picked your cookie up and took a bite. "Like I'm gonna give you my free cookie." You stared at your tray while you chewed.

Peter's frown deepened and he looked at you. When you looked up again and saw him staring, he swallowed. You were already shaking your head at him.

"Don't look at me like that," you said.

He looked away. "I'm worried about you."

"Worried about me?" you asked. "Because of what I said?" You rubbed your eyes. "Pete, I'm fine. Really."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because-"

"Please don't do this," you said. "Please? I didn't tell you guys that just so you could feel bad for me. I was just talking, okay? And-" You swallowed. "I'm fine. So stop just feeling bad for me just because I am the only one here that hasn't dated anybody."

Peter didn't look at you, but you could still feel that he was feeling for you. You were getting annoyed. How many times did you have to say that you were fine before they got the hint that you were fine?

You picked your cookie up, gave a half angry sigh, and dropped it on Ned's tray. "There," you said. "You can have the cookie, Ned."

He looked after you as you got up. "But you took a bite out of it!" he exclaimed. When you left, he looked at Peter. "What's wrong with you? You know you can feel bad for her without letting her know. She hates being babied."

"I know," he mumbled. He swallowed. "But, I, uh... want to tell you something." He looked at his best friend and pressed his lips in a tight line.

...

You walked through the hallway, frowning down at the ground to avoid the heart cut-outs. You were being dramatic. You knew that. And Peter was just a good friend-

And maybe that was it.

He was just a good friend.

And you were the stupid, lovesick girl that sometimes wished he could see that you two would be a great match.

But Peter was the kind of guy that went for girls with great qualities. Liz was super smart. Gwen was super sweet. And you? You were dramatic. And sad. And annoying.

Gosh, were you annoying.

You went outside and sat down on a bench. It was cold and you didn't have a coat, but you didn't want to go inside and breathe in the stuffy heat.

You were growing so tired of yourself, which was only getting easier to do, because you constantly got trapped in your thoughts.

Like-

Why didn't anyone ever have a crush on you? Why were you the only one? Why did you feel the desire to have a boyfriend so bad? And why did you have to fall in love with Peter a little more every time you looked at him?

"Ugh," you groaned, dropping your face in your hands that were too cold. Your fingertips were starting to burn.

"Hey, there you are," Peter said. He sat down next to you, coat not on but in his hands. He handed it to you. "I had a feeling you came out here without your coat on." He gave you a half smile and scooted close.

"Thanks," you said, pulling the coat around your shoulders. "Pete, I'm sorry for snapping at you. I didn't mean it. But I don't like-"

"Being babied," he finished for you. He nodded and smiled. "I know." He nudged you. "I didn't mean it. I really didn't."

"I know," you said. You huffed. "It's so easy to make myself sad, Pete." You pressed your lips together and then looked at him. "Why is it so easy?"

He stared at you. He didn't know how to answer your question, but stuck on the tip of his tongue was everything he wanted to say. Things that would (hopefully) make all of your insecurities flutter away and never come back.

But he didn't know how to say them.

He never knew how to say them.

So he just nudged you again, smiled, and said, "Let's go inside. Your cheeks are turning super red."

You stared at him like he just disappointed you, and he felt a little sick. You were waiting for an answer so you could know why you were making yourself so sad - and he didn't answer.

You nodded and stood up, handing him his coat. You walked a little ahead of him.

Why couldn't he give you an answer?