Behind the Mask

It was just after noon when I found my way back to my apartment, and I was surprised to find it the same way I left it : an empty bowl of cereal in the sink, a damp towel hanging from my shower, and a hungover Chase draped across my couch.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I muttered to myself, slamming the door behind me. Chase didn't even stir.

I marched to the edge of the couch and shoved a hand at his hip. "Hey, get up."

His eyes squinted shut, and eventually fluttered open. "Hmm?" 

I grumbled at his fake innocence. "Get up. I want you out of here right now."

Chase lifted his arms over his head in a stretch. "What's wrong, babe?" He asked groggily.

"Chase, I'm not kidding. Get out." I pointed at the door to prove my point. 

He propped himself up on his elbows. "What's your problem?"

"My problem? Maybe it's that I had to literally drag you out of the Chief of Police's house last night because you were too drunk to do it yourself, or maybe it's because your nasty breath stunk up my apartment. Maybe it's that I had to go feed your dog this morning because you were here, passed out on my damn couch like a pig!"

He rose to a full seated position, trying to console me with his hands. "Hey, now, no need to be like that." I wasn't kind enough to loosen his clothes after he passed out, but his tie was dangling due to heavy sleeping.

I was choking back tears, and I didn't know why. "Chase, get out!" My weak voice betrayed me. "I don't want to see you again!"

He saw my eyes becoming wet and rushed to my attention. "Don't cry, Liv. I'm sorry, it won't happen again." He reached his arms to encase me in a hungover hug - he was only doing it to make me stop yelling at him. 

I stepped away from him, a stern and serious look in my watery eyes. 

Chase sighed, feeling the throbbing of his head, and slipped passed me. "I'll get in the shower so you can cool down."

I pounded my fist into his chest, his firm stomach halted by it. "I want you to leave." I dug my eyes into his to help the information get passed his thick skull.

It seemed to click, because he frowned and lifted his shoulders. "Fine. I'll leave. I won't come back."

I kept our eyes connected.

"I'm serious, Liv. I'm not coming back."

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm still waiting for you to leave."

He hated that I got the last word, and threw my door open. He kicked it closed, and the window sill shaking with the force of the slam was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

The window caught my attention, and I hurried over to it to let the beer fumes escape. I unlocked the latch and tried lifting it, but the stupid thing always got stuck. 

I locked my fingers around the handle and lifted it with all my strength, only raising the glass about three centimeters off the sill. I grunted in frustration, blinked twice, and Spiderman was on the balcony.

I gasped at the sudden appearance. "Oh!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Peter tugged his mask off his head. I could hear him through the small space the window allowed open. 

He observed the situation. "Need some help?"

My heart was still drumming, but I nodded eagerly.

He slipped his red suited fingers under the window and hoisted it up as if it were a cloud. He stuck his head in the opening and watched me. "You okay?"

I was bracing myself against the lamp next to the couch. I let it go and wiped my hands on my jeans. "I'm fine." I said.

He waited for me to say something else, resting his arms over the sill.

I had to start pulling myself back together. I didn't want Peter to see me like that again. "Um, you didn't hear any of that, did you?"

"Not if you didn't want me to." He picked at the cracking paint on my window sill. 

"H-how did you know my window was stuck?" I stuttered, realizing his timing could only be made by a stalker.

He dropped his eyes to his lap. "My spider senses..."

"Your what?"

He chuckled at himself. "I get this tingling sensation at the base of my skull when someone needs help, or if something's wrong." He rubbed his hand over the back of his head and laughed again, messing his own hair. "It's weird, but it really helps sometimes."

I watched how the breeze from the altitude blew his lengthy brown hair back into place. "No, it's...interesting."

He watched me some more, like a bird in a cage. It took me a minute to realize I was being rude. "Do you want to come in?"

"Do you want me to come in?"

I hesitated before answering. "I do."

He raised an eyebrow at my uncertainty, but invited himself fluidly through the window. When he stood upright again, he was no more than a foot away from me. It was still strange, seeing him wearing the spidey suit.

He crinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

I rolled my eyes and walked toward the kitchen. "Drunken cop."

He took a few steps in the same direction. "Sounds fun."

I ducked under the sink and searched for a can of air freshener. "If only you knew how much fun I had last night."

I stood back up with the can and faced him. He took my phrasing in a different, innapropriate way. "Please, spare me the details."

"Not like that, I mean it wasn't...I was being sarcastic." I felt my cheeks pulsing with embarassment.

His grin indicated that he was just playing with me. I lifted the can and started spraying the room with the scent of fresh linen.

Peter used his inhuman speed to catch a hold of my wrist in the air. I watched nervously as his brown eyes directed themselves to my hand. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." I said quickly, but not quick enough. He pushed up my sleeve and exposed the red and pink blistering skin hidden beneath.

His eyes connected with mine, forcing an answer.

I wiggled my hand free and set the can on the counter. "I burnt myself when I spilled some hot tea, it was an accident."

He continued to stare at me. 

"I'm clumsy." I added. My heart had yet to slow down.

I flinched at the sudden knock on the door. I stepped around Peter, the sleeve of his suit brushing my arm. I paused after taking a few more steps to turn around and tell Peter to hide, but he was already gone.

I found myself pouting and already annoyed by whoever was at my door. I turned the handle and opened it as far as the chain would allow.

"Liv, don't shut the door." Chase made sure I would follow his instruction by poking his finger through the tiny opening.

I was speechless, in denial that he was actually back again. 

"Can we talk?"

I traced my eyes down his body through the crack in the door. He held a small bouquet of yellow daisies in his rough hands. He probably bought them from the flower stand across the street.

Even though the right thing to do was clear, I didn't know whether I wanted to give him a chance. "What is there to talk about?"

"I don't want us to end this way." 

I huffed. "Where'd you see that, carved in the sidewalk outside?"

"Come on," He glanced behind him when a group of people passed in the hall. "Give me a break, here."

"You aren't good for me." I told him. "I'm sick of dealing with you."

He poked his hand through the opening just before I wanted to close it. I wondered what was stopping me from slamming his fingers. "I know I need help."

"You think?" I shoved his hand away.

"Olivia, I need your help." He said. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, and I never wanted to hurt you to begin with. I promise I'll change if you give me the chance."

I cursed myself for falling for him in the first place. I was vulnerable - I still am - and he literally showed up on my doorstep with a friemdly smile an a shoulder to cry on. It didn't help that he was the good-looking co-worker of my deceased brother.  

I figured if Greg found something good in Chase, he must be worth the struggle and frustration.

I had to give in before I broke down again. "I don't have any patience with you anymore."

"You won't need it." He insisted.

After another moment of contemplation, my good soul overthrew my senses and I unlatched the chain. I pulled open the door and there he stood, disheveled and presenting the perfect bouquet of flowers, like the fine gentleman I knew he was not.

When I continued staring, he set the flowers on a desk next to the door. He procceded to confidently step up to me and pull my chin into a kiss. I didn't respond at first, but he was such a good kisser that I couldn't help but kiss him back.   

I half smiled after he pulled away because I didn't know what the hell was right or wrong anymore. "These are pretty." I said, picking up the lovely selection of flowers to place them in a vase.

"Your favorite." He said proudly, and he was right. It was a bit surprising that he was right.

I opened a cabinet and started to fill a vase my mother bought me when I moved in. It got me thinking about her, and Dad as well. I hadn't spoken to either of them since...

"What's this?" Chase was pinching a bunch of red fabric with a smirk on his lips.

I assumed it was a dish cloth or something until he spread it out in the air. "Oh, that's...that's from, uh..." How do you explain the reason why Spiderman's mask is in your kitchen?

"This thing is authentic." He gawked at the realistic feel to it, because it was the real damn thing! "Is it yours?"

"No, a boy on the fifth floor." I spluttered. "He...I was babysitting him yesterday. He left it here." I was going to let Peter hear it later. How does Spidey forget his mask?

Chase discovered the opening to the mask and started to spread it over his head.

"No!" I shrieked, snatching the mask from him.

Chase held up his hands innocently. "What's the big deal? It's a toy."

"I don't want you to tear it." I moved the mask to a safe place. "It's very important to him." I emphasized my point, humoring myself a little.

Chase rolled his eyes. "There's a problem if the kid cares so much for a loser in spandex."

I rolled my eyes right back. I've never met a single police officer that liked the superhero, let alone idolized him. It was a pride thing, because the NYPD was supposed to be the greatest force in the city. Greg was never too fond of him, either. 

I was always neutral, but that had the potential to change.