Behind the Mask

Our first real fight was on Greg's birthday. I tried to ignore it all day, I tried to hold myself together, but it all came crashing down when I was only trying to help.

Peter battled his droopy eyes for the better part of Photography. He was so stubborn, looking for more good than bad in the people he was trying to rescue, only to find that there wasn't any good left. I couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a good night's sleep. He wasted time wondering what would have happened if he didn't fall for one trick after another.

It didn't help that the fan mail slowly backfired into hate mail. It got to the point where Peter asked me to stop bringing the shoeboxes home with me, and I did.

He wasn't the same. I couldn't expect to smile at his quick remarks or watch him breeze through his scientific nonsense without erasing over and over again. He was so thoughtful, and so precise, but much more clumsy.

On Greg's birthday, Peter was busy erasing at his desk. I made myself comfortable on his bed, my laptop propped up on my knees. I was supposed to write a paper about women in British literature, but a blank document was staring back at me in the most taunting way.

Both of my parents tried calling me a million times. Dad used his cell phone, Mom used hers, and I got a call from the house before the cycle repeated and repeated again. I didn't want to talk to them, not then. I hated that I was rolling right back into that awful routine of ignoring them.

I typed a bunch of random letters on the keyboard and then backspaced. "Peter?"

"What?" His voice wasn't harsh, and it wasn't meant to hurt me, but it wasn't like him to respond with something so meaningless, especially to me.

"Nevermind." I wondered what it would be like if he wasn't so preoccupied with proving everyone wrong. I thought that maybe I could tell him that it was Greg's birthday and I was using most of my energy to get through the day alive. He would understand if he wasn't so worried about Spiderman.

I felt my stomach tighten and let out a sigh to discourage pointless tears. I didn't want him to pity me, I just wanted somebody to talk to, like how he talked to me. He wasn't giving me the option, and it wasn't fair.

Peter let his pencil fall as he picked up his eraser again. He rubbed the page until I heard the rip and a jumble of curses that followed.

I opened my mouth to suggest that we both take a break, but I knew better than to suggest it when he felt weak. He flipped through the notebook to find a new page.

My phone vibrated on the bed next to me, and the caller ID told me it was Dad. I almost didn't press the green button in time. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Dad laughed a little, glad he finally reached me. "I've been calling all day. Too cool to call your dad back?"

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just...not a good day for me." I regretted using those words, because Peter tilted his head a bit to listen.

Dad sighed. "Yeah, I know. Your mother wanted you to come over for dinner. You didn't eat yet, did you?"

I stared at the empty pizza box at the bottom of the bed. "I had a late lunch." I half lied.

"Well, how about some cake? Mom's red velvet?"

It was then that I almost lost it. Red velvet was Greg's favorite, and the only reason Mom made it every year was because he wanted it for his birthday. All of us hated red velvet, except Greg, which made it strange for Mom to make a cake no one would enjoy eating.

"Um." I rolled my lips to dodge a frown. "I don't know about tonight. I don't..." I took another breath, hoping the crackling in my voice would go away. "I don't think tonight is good for me."

Peter leaned back in his chair when my voice started crackling. He removed his attention from his work and paid extra attention to me.

After a few more minutes of talking, Dad reluctantly let me go. I told him I loved him, and I knew Greg would have yelled at me for ditching them, but I just couldn't do it.

I dropped the phone and blinked my eyes. I sat up straighter and stared at the computer screen, begging for words to appear out of thin air.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" I felt his sincerity, but he didn't know how that question stung me to the core.

"No." I said flatly. I left it at that, afraid to go any further if he didn't force me.

There was a short silence. "Sorry, I just heard something about cake...your dad talks loud."

We both heard the sirens first, before they bounced off of the buildings out the window. Peter watched with a longing glow in his eyes, but he knew there was a greater chance it was a fake. He knew he would do more harm than good.

The dilemma frustrated him further. He ran his fingers through his hair and I worried he would pull it all out.

"Maybe you should just give it up." I'd been considering it for a little while, but this was the first time I actually said it out loud.

Peter looked at me for the first time in over an hour. "What are you talking about?"

I drew my eyes to the red and blue suit hanging in his closet, and then looked back at him again.

He still looked confused. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm not." I said, strangely composed. "It's changing you. Spiderman is changing you, and it isn't the good kind of change."

Peter practically waved me off. "I can't just pack the suit in a box and toss it under my bed, Olivia."

"Why not?"

He looked at me like I was so naive, so stupid for not seeing why. It was the same kind of look Chase would have given me. "It's complicated."

"I'm pretty sure I can keep up." The attitude was a defense mechanism from childhood. I used it with my parents when they acted like they knew everything.

Peter laughed now. It wasn't natural. "I can't believe you're serious."

"I can't believe you're treating me this way."

"What way?"

"This way!" I shouted, slapping my laptop shut. "Your back has been turned to me all day, you barely say a word, and I'm trying to help, but you're shutting me out!"

He was not as stunned by my outburst as I hoped. If anything, it fueled him. "I get that, but if you want to be realistic, you can't help me."

"Why not?"

"Because it's complicated!"

"Tell me!" I dragged out the demand to a beg. "Tell me why it's so complicated!"

Peter stood up from the desk and kicked the leg of his chair. It made a buzzing noise as it slid across the floor. "You don't get it." He said quietly.

"If you would just explain it to me --"

"I can't explain it to you! I can't just give it up, it's harder than that!"

"Peter, they don't appreciate you anymore!" I pointed vaguely out the window. "They don't want you rescuing them, don't you see it? You bring more crime and enemies than they need!"

"There are still people out there that need help, Olivia. People that the cops can't get to without me."

"They manage to figure it out everywhere else in the world. They don't have a Spiderman in every city."

"And you think it's okay to say that to me?"

"Why, isn't it? You're a conceited, thick-headed wonder boy that's only worried about his pride being damaged by some scummy criminals!" I surprised myself there, because I was saving a comment like that for Chase.

"So what does that make you? The washed up girlfriend that doesn't have anything else to look forward to?" His voice was apologetic, like he felt bad for saying it but kept his tongue rolling anyway.

Somehow in our disagreement, we managed to come face to face. I was standing on the bottom edge of the bed, a foot or so taller than him. He had grabbed hold of my wrists to enhance his point from earlier, and loosened his fingers without letting go completely.

Our eyes met as we realized it was our first real fight. Peter struck me to be one that didn't prefer to battle it out with hurtful words, but he proved me wrong there.

His eyes dropped shamefully and he buried his head in my chest, curling his arms around my waist. He squeezed me like a little boy would squeeze his mother after he had disappointed her.

I couldn't resist tangling my fingers in that hair. "Just one day," I leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "Just keep it on the hanger for one day."

He backed away from me so I could come down to his level. I swooped my legs out and landed on my bottom with a bounce on the mattress. He was taller than me now, tickling my shoulders with his fingers.

I stared at the wall behind him. "Greg would have been 25 today."

I heard the guilty sigh that I didn't want to hear. "Why didn't you say something?"

My lip quivered as it dragged itself into a frown. "I don't know."

When my cheek touched his shoulder and his hands rubbed my back, I let it all out. I cried the ugly cry, hard and hopeless. He stuck it out with me, holding me close until all that was left was the hitch in my breath.

Once I was quiet enough, he leaned close to my ear. "Will you stay here tonight?"

My pulse throbbed in my ears. "Sleep over?" I asked in a whisper.

He spread my fingers out on his knee. "Only if you want to."

Did I want to? Of course, who wouldn't want to spend the night with Spiderman? I wanted to say yes, but for some reason I was hesitating.

"No funny business, I promise." I heard the playfulness return in his voice. "Just a good old-fashioned sleepover."

I snuggled closer to his chest. "Okay."

. . . . . . . .

Day One began in the early hours of the morning. The sky was only dimmly lit by the rising sun, but I felt Peter roll out of bed. He slept on top of the covers with an extra blanket, while I was cuddled up under them. It was still too soon to sleep any closer than that.

I pried my sleepy eyelids open to see what he was up to. He started for the closet but stopped after a few steps. He stood there for a minute before he wobbled back over the bed and sat on the edge.

"Do you get up this early every morning?" My voice was scratchy, partly from sleep and partly from crying so much.

Peter almost flinched, not expecting me to be awake. "Yeah." He said.

I grumbled at the clock. "Haven't you ever heard of sleeping in on your days off?"

He lifted one knee up on the bed to turn sideways and face me. "I've never really had a day off before."

I closed my eyes again and pulled the blanket over my shoulders. "That explains alot of things."

I waited for the comment to sink in before I peeked at him. He smiled when my eyes opened, but it faded again.

"You're not going to pout all day, are you?" I was on the verge of whining.

"No promises."

I groaned extra loud and kicked the blankets off of me. I stood up, forming a dizzy cloud in my head. "Fine. I guess I'll have to entertain you all day, then?"

"If you insist."

I looked at the clock again. "I'm going home to get dressed. I'll be back in a half hour."

I marched on my mission to get myself together in thirty minutes. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew I had to do something to occupy him all day. I didn't think it would be easy, either.

When I knocked on his door before I let myself in again. I was early, and he still had ten minutes. I heard the shower running in the bathroom.

I banged on the door. "Hurry up, slow poke."

"Don't rush me." He joked back. It gave me hope that the Peter I knew would resurface soon.

I collapsed back on his bed as I waited for him to finish in the bathroom. I was starting to drift off to sleep again when the door cracked open, releasing the foggy steam from the hot shower. I lifted my head to look at him, just his head poking through.

"Close your eyes." He said.

"Why, are you naked?"

"No, but I didn't bring any clothes in here, because I thought you weren't going to be here already."

I surpressed a giggle. "So you are naked?"

"No, I just..." He huffed, jerking his chin towards the dresser. "Alright, make yourself useful and go over there and get me some clothes."

I sat up in the bed, crossing my legs. "Why should I?"

"Because I will cry if you don't." He was getting a little antsy behind that tease, and I loved it.

"Really?"

"Really."

I let him sweat it out for a few seconds before I gave in and walked up to the dresser. I followed his directions in which articles of clothing to choose before I handed him the small pile at the door. He closed it over again and the hot steam stuck to my face.

I walked aimlessly around his apartment until he came out fully clothed. "I'm bored." He mumbled through a toothbrush.

"Took you long enough to get ready." I mentioned. "How am I supposed to entertain you when you're in the shower?"

He paused his brushing to stare at me.

"Don't answer that." I said, blushing a deep red. What the hell is wrong with me?

He rinsed his mouth in the bathroom and was finally ready to officially start Day One as Peter Parker. "So now what?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, what do you want to do?" I didn't give him enough time to answer. "How about breakfast? My treat?"

Peter nodded a little, but his eyes were focused on the closet again. I reached for his hand and pulled.

. . . . . . . .

It was chilly outside in the morning. Peter offered his elbow to me and I slipped my arm through. He pulled me closer, and I would never be chilly again.

Peter was struggling to decide what he wanted for breakfast. First, it was just some coffee. Then, he decided he wanted a donut and orange juice. We both agreed on a stack of pancakes.

It was when we passed through Times Square that I saw it. The face, the perfect features, long eyelashes, and plump lips stared back at me in the form of a giant billboard.

"Oh, my God!" I stopped dead in my tracks.

Peter looked up as well. "Hey, isn't that --"

I was already on the phone, calling her. "Clara, you're in Times Square!"

"What? No, I'm..." She was interrupted by a yawn. "What time is it?"

"No, Clara, your picture! Why didn't you tell me?"

She was half asleep. "I thought you noticed. You work at Toys 'R Us, don't you?"

The billboard was right there, in the middle of everything. If it was there before, I surely would have seen it. Was I that self-absorbed that I didn't notice? "Oh, right."

"Look, I hate to hang up on you, but I got in late last night."

"Oh, right, right. Okay. I'll see you." I hung up, but still held my phone to my ear.

Peter still stared at the billboard. "What's her name again?"

I pocketed my phone, not appreciating the way he was staring. "Clara." She was modeling some brand of makeup, but I couldn't get over how I'd missed something so obvious.

"You know, that's another type of photography to get into." He told me.

"Taking pictures of models?" I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure that would be beneficial for my self esteem."

"No, you could take pictures of your friend."

"You mean you could take pictures of my friend." I tried to make him keep walking again. He was just being a guy, I wasn't going to think poorly of him for being attracted to beautiful women.

"What's wrong?" Peter eventually recognized my jealousy. "Did I say something?"

"No."

"Come on, what did I say?"

"Nothing."

"Olivia --"

"Let's just go get some breakfast, okay?"

Peter physically stopped me this time. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me once. I forgot all about Clara.

. . . . . . . .

I played with the mask before I asked him. "Can I try it on?"

He was flicking channels on the TV. "Knock yourself out."

I spread the opening and slipped my head in like a sock. It was like living between two fresh pancakes stacked ontop of each other. It was sticky and hot and dark and completely uncomfortable. "How do you even breathe in this thing?" My voice wasn't as clear as his was when he wore it.

I heard him chuckle. "You put it on backwards. Here," I felt his hands readjust the mask. I could suddenly breathe and see out the tinted coverings of the eyes. It was a little more comfortable, like a second skin I wasn't used to.

"Whoa." I said. I walked slow as I searched for the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I held my hair back. It didn't fit me as fluidly as it fit Peter, but I basically looked like Spiderwoman.

"Cool, huh?" He asked.

"It's amazing! It must be so fun..." I stopped myself, remembering that I was supposed to be helping him drop the superhero thing.

I felt for the edge of the mask to pull it off, but Peter brushed my fingers away. He pinched the fabric and started lifting it himself. He rolled it up until it revealed just up to the tip of my nose. I couldn't see anymore, and I held absolutely still.

He held my chin in his fingers and lifted it to touch his lips to mine. A warm sensation coated my entire body like syrup over hot pancakes. It was slow, thick, and irresistable.

When he pulled away, it just slipped out. "I love you." I was glad I couldn't see his face, because he didn't say anything. I started to blame myself for blurting it out when I knew it was way too soon for anyone to feel that way about someone else, but it was true. I loved him.

The silence was so unbearable. I couldn't even feel him touching me anymore, but I was too afraid to pull the mask off. I was too afraid to ask him to say something and end the awkward silence. I didn't even know if he was still standing there.

A round of sirens escalated as it got closer to our building. It was the first time we'd heard any all day. I blinked when the mask was swiftly pulled from my head. When my eyes refocused, Peter was standing in front of me dressed in his suit.

I looked him up and down and frowned a bit. He hesitated as he pulled the mask over his head and flew out through the balcony doors, shooting a web and slinging himself after the sirens.