Behind the Mask

They say you can't pick up broken glass without getting yourself hurt. But I refused to live the rest of my life that way, without trying my absolute hardest to put the pieces back together.

"Its not like I wanted to tell them, Peter." I didn't know how to make my point any clearer. "Don't you understand that?"

"This is exactly why I should have stayed away from you." He continued to mumble ridiculous things to himself. "I knew I shouldn't have even told you, but what were you thinking, giving all of that information away like it was your own?"

"I don't know, I guess I..." I didn't really have an answer -- as if I wasn't guilty enough. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Didn't you realize what you were doing?"

"Yes, but --"

"Then why? Why did you tell them the truth?" He looked eager to hear my answer, the answer I didn't have.

"What was I supposed to do, lie to the cops?"

"Yes! That's what you should have done, you should have lied. Did you lie about anything at all?"

His sarcasm irked me. "I didn't mention Chase's role in everything for obvious reasons."

Peter threw his hands in the air and let them slap down at his sides. "Right, turn me in but let the psychotic cop get away with attempted murder."

"He was standing in the next room! Do you really think they'd believe me anyway?"

"I don't know, but the point is you completely sold me out. I don't have anything left." He traced his fingers lightly over the curves of the camera on his desk. I knew I upset him. I just wasn't expecting to feel so horrible. 

He made me feel like I robbed him of his identity, his passion for living life. He acted like I killed a part of him, the most important part he had. I didn't want to think that way, but I did all of those things without even thinking twice. How could I do that?

Just when I thought he was calming down, he picked up the camera and shifted its weight in his hands.

Then he threw it at the wall with all of his might.

"No!" I let out a yelp as it collided with the wall and splattered like road kill. Now I felt sick to my stomach. Sick to the point of feeling nauseous. "Peter,"

"It's not about running away, it's about facing the fact that I'm not a secret anymore." He paced a very short distance, back and forth at a pace that gradually slowed. I held my queasy stomach with one hand and cautiously reached out to him with the other.

He spoke before I could touch him. "Go back to Aunt May's, please."

"I'm so sorry." I knew it didn't mean anything.

"Just go back to Aunt May's."

I gulped, worried he would raise his voice again. "I'm going to stay home tonight."

He laughed at my foolishness.

"It's a pain to get all the way across the city again." I added. "I'm tired."

He looked at me funny. "You won't sleep tonight."

God, he could read me like a book. "I just want to go home, Peter. I want to move on, and I can't do that without sleeping in my own bed."

"Then go. But you can't sleep there alone."

"Why not?"

"It isn't safe."

"I think I'll be just fine." I started marching toward the door, holding in my tears, but Peter somehow slipped in front of me. 

He watched my face, carefully twisting the lock on his door. "I won't let you leave."

The nausea in my stomach turned into butterflies. "Is that the only reason you came back? To make me feel terrible but only to run off again?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

He reached his fingers on top of his head, probably seeking comfort in hair that wasn't there anymore. "I never left, Olivia."

"You never--" I ran out of breath. "What?"

His back was pressed against the door when he shrugged and twitched his lips a little. "I couldn't do it. I've been sitting in this damn room for almost two days, and I still have no idea what I should do."

That was when I saw how deeply conflicted he was, and I forced myself to put the hard feelings aside. "You don't want to leave?"

"What good will that do? Just to disappear?" He stared past me, out the window to the city streets. "Maybe I should just give them what they want."

I wanted to yell so many things about how he should never even consider speaking to anyone anymore, let alone turn himself over, but yelling would only make things worse. "You know that's not an option."

He didn't speak.

"Peter?"

He chewed his lip, watching me again without really watching. He was thinking.

"Listen to me," I held onto his arms loosely. "Are you listening?" His eyes were clouded, but he was looking at me with a distant attention span.

I felt the warm temperature of his skin and slipped my thumbs over it, admiring the feel after being deprived for what seemed like forever. I looked at the spot beneath his chin that my head fit like a glove, and I longed to lie against him. I saw the fear and guilt and confusion pounding through him as he tried to think up a way to move on in his life, and I became desperate for his attention.

There was only one way I could distract him from thinking too much.

I slapped him hard across his cheek, but it probably stung my palm more than it hurt him.

It was sinful how quickly his eyes liquefied, first by shock, probably followed by interest, and then more anger. At least he proved he was conscious.

"Are you listening now?" I asked quietly, my own heart pulsating in my chest in time with my throbbing fingers.

He clenched his jaw and physically moved himself away from me.

"Don't walk away! I'm trying to talk to you!"

"I don't want to hear it, Olivia."

I gathered my bravery and kept going anyway. "Just because you're a superhero doesn't mean you can't take help from anyone else. Sure, I already screwed things up, but so did you. If I go back to Aunt May's, I'll be leaving you here to deal with it all alone, and I won't do that. So let me help you, okay?"

He seemed to almost buy it. "I can't drag you deeper into this."

"Don't you get it?" I stepped closer to him so there were just inches between us. "You can't scare me away, Peter."

"I have to! You are supposed to be scared out of your mind! Why do you keep coming back? It doesn't make any sense!"

"The world doesn't have a scientific answer to everything, Peter!"

He stared thoughtfully out his window, his warm breath fogging the glass a little. I couldn't talk any sense into him now. He needed to cool down first. Who would have thought arguing with a spider would be so difficult?

"Okay," I raked my hair out of my face. "I'll go back to Aunt May's. But I'm coming back in the morning."

He barely moved a muscle.

I pretended it didn't hurt me as much as it did. I twisted the lock on the door, but I didn't open it yet. I paced myself in walking back over to him.

I reached on my toes and kissed him once on the corner of his mouth. "I love you."

His throat moved as he swallowed, but again, he barely moved a muscle. I didn't waste time leaving now.

I made it all the way to the elevator and pressed the button on the wall. I looked back, wondering if he thought about being romantic and maybe he was running to catch me before I left, but the halls were silent.

I closed my eyes when it started moving, not because I was afraid but because I was freaking tired.

They snapped open when something rattled on the ceiling. My heart stopped, and now I was afraid the elevator would break again.

It didn't, it kept moving smoothly down the elevator shaft. I looked up at the emergency exit and realized the handle was rattling. I backed up against the wall and braced myself.

The exit door pulled itself open, echoing through the shaft. A blurry body dropped in through the hole in the ceiling.

I covered my mouth with my hands and gasped. Peter smirked at me, and I imagined myself as a melted puddle around his feet.

When I caught my breath, I started laughing. "What the hell! You scared me half to--"

He cut me off with a lovely and passionate kiss, the kind I'd been waiting for my whole life. Each of his thumbs caressed my cheeks, the rest of his fingers lost in my hair. I pulled at his waist to get him closer, as close as possible. Then I remembered he climbed through the elevator shaft to get here.

I squirmed away. "Eww, Peter!"

He held up his hands innocently. "What?"

I wiped my cheeks. "You touched me with your grimy elevator hands!"

He looked down at them which a frown. "Well we're already making out in an elevator, and according to you, it's 'unsanitary'."

I watched him watching me in the playful way I loved so much. He wiggled his fingers at me.

Oh, what the hell, I'll just shower later.