Behind the Mask

It was nice to sit through photography with a freshness I didn't have before with the hangover. The class was still a bit boring, especially since the lecture was on proper lighting. It was something I subconsciously looked for when snapping photos. I didn't need to learn about it all over again. I decided to distract myself with the bounciness of our instructor's hair.

Peter still came in late. This time, he caught my eyes and smiled at me with a raise of his eyebrows. Someone in front of me turned to find the recieving end of that smile, so I kept my head low. I raised them again after a second or two, finding a new distraction in Peter. He set his backpack down on the floor beside his chair and shrugged off his coat. I watched his shoulder blades roll in the process beneath his t-shirt. I found it funny how clueless everyone was, unknowingly sitting in the same room as New York's favorite hero.

It was enough to boggle me for the rest of class. At ten, I slowly gathered my things on purpose, waiting to see if Peter looked back at me again. I dropped my notebook off of the desk, and noticed his shoes when I stood back up.

"Well?" He asked expectantly.

My stomach rolled. "What?"

"Did you sell it online?" He was joking with me, but I was slightly confused. "The mask." He muttered, close to my ear.

"Oh!" I chuckled nervously. "No, I - it's on my kitchen counter."

Peter nodded. "Right. How's your hand?"

I pulled the sleeve over the pinkness. "Fine."

He shifts his head to the side, finding no one left in the classroom. "I have a backup mask, but I need the real one back."

"Okay." I said right away. "Do you want to stop on the way home?"

"The sooner, the better."

On the way out of the building, we walked past a convenience stand. Each of the bold newspaper headlines sported Spiderman's name, but not in a good context. I slowed my walk to read some of them.

Peter stopped as well, snickering at the words. "People believe anything."

The papers claimed that Spiderman's "haters" were climbing in numbers, and planning revenge. "You're not concerned?"

"No." His answer was so certain that it was hard to argue it. "Why should it matter whether people like me or not?"

We continued walking before I spoke again. "I guess you're right, but those people are dangerous. They want you dead." They were all already criminals, angry with Spidey for getting in their way. I didn't think they would miss the chance at ending him.

He shrugged again, completely at ease. I guess if it didn't bother him, it shouldn't bother me.

Peter coming to my apartment with me wouldn't have been a problem if Chase wasn't in my kitchen, making himself a sandwich.

I faltered my step when I walked inside, but remembered to act natural. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

Chase paused in the middle of smearing mustard on his sandwich with a butter knife. His eyes were focused on Peter, behind me. "I have an hour lunch break today." He dropped his knife to kiss me on the forehead. "Who's you're friend?"

I spun and found Peter still idling in the doorway. He half smiled and took some cautious steps forward, offering his hand to Chase. "Peter Parker." He said evenly. I imagined he was getting a kick out of Chase being a cop.

Chase's navy blue police uniform always made his shoulders look broader and his arms look thicker. I noticed the tighter grip on Peter's hand, and prayed Chase wouldn't start anything.

"He's just here to pick something up." I snaked around Chase to snatch the mask, and tossed it to Peter.

Chase huffed. "Babysitting the kid on the fifth floor, huh?"

I had forgotten about that spur of the moment excuse. "Yeah..." I hurried back over to Peter and pressed his shoulders to get him moving. "I'll see you later, Peter."

"Now, where you running off to?" Chase took an oversized bite of his lunch. "Maybe he wants a sandwich."

I was ready to strangle Chase. He knew this was getting on my nerves. Peter got this creative look in his eye, and it worried me more than Chase did.

"Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to grab some coffee, or something? Down the street." Peter completely ignored Chase's presence.

"She drinks tea." Chase snorted, seeing Peter's attempt of asking me out as pathetic.

I didn't know what came over me. "Sure." I agreed, regardless of my distaste for coffee. Neither of them expected me to answer that way.

"Okay," Peter said warily. He started backing up towards the open doorway.

I turned to shoot Chase a cheeky smile and waved goodbye. He still shook his head with a doubtful grin. "You kids have fun."

I slipped out of the apartment and close the door, releasing an annoyed groan. "I literally can't stand him."

"He's the drunken cop?" Peter guessed correctly.

"Yes, and I don't have the guts to drop him." I walked toward the elevators.

"Uh, wait." Peter waited for me to stop before he caught up. "I really can't go out for coffee right now. I have some other work to do."

What other kind of work was he talking about? Why did it disappoint me so much? "Oh."

"But you can come back to my apartment with me." He offered quickly. "If you want."

For some reason, the idea thrilled me. "Of course! I mean, that sounds nice."

. . . . . . . .

"Wow."

Peter looked over at me, his glasses dropping from the bridge of his nose. "What?"

I could see his written work from where I was seated, and there was no doubt in my mind this guy was a genius. "Um...nothing. I was just talking to myself."

Peter laughed once and focused back on his work. "Okay, then."

Great. Now he thought I has some sort of mental disorder. I zipped my mouth shut and continued to act as a fly on the wall. It was changing the impression I'd had on him, seeing the stacks of chemistry books and equations -- all of the things I was never good at doing. He was a hero as well as a genius?

"Those glasses suit you." I couldn't control the comment, it just came out.

"Thanks." He said absently.

I fidgeted in my seat. "Am I bothering you? I really shouldn't --"

"You're fine." He said. "You're not bothering me. I can multitask."

"You swear?"

"I swear."

I didn't believe him, but I didn't want to leave, either. I made more of an effort to stay quiet, drawing circles on my knees to distract myself.

Peter glanced over his shoulder at me for a short second, as if he was checking that I was still there. "So, you're a writer?"

I peeked back up at him curiously. "How did you know?"

"Well, you're staring at that calculus book like you don't speak English, and usually if you don't like math and science, you turn towards the opposite." He let me fill in the blanks. "Am I right?"

I was impressed, because he never drew his eyes away from focus. "I'm trying to be a writer. I don't have a job yet." I noticed the mask, perched next to him in the mess of schoolwork. "Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"Does anyone else know about you?"

His pencil paused briefly, and he tapped the eraser end on the desk before he continued writing again.

I read his body language clearly. "No? No one else knows?"

"It's not a big deal." He said quietly.

"It's not a big deal? Peter, you've never told anyone else! Why would you tell me?"

"For the record, I didn't tell you. You figured it out yourself after I showed you."

"Well, whatever. What about your parents?"

His pencil stopped moving completely. He set it down, but refused to turn and face me. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle."

"And you never --"

"No, I didn't." His answer was forceful, and it told me to back off. "It's not something that just comes up."

I bit my tongue hard. No more talking.

Peter eventually spun his chair and held his glasses in his hands. He played with them as a nervous tick. "You asked me before why I decided to get you out of that elevator?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, guilty for making him give me answers that I had no right to hear. I nodded anyway.

"The only reason I saved you was because you said your brother was shot. You were running out of time to say goodbye." He closed up his notebook and pushed it to the side, focusing his attention on a photo tucked inside a drawer.

It was of an older couple, a man and woman I assumed to be his aunt and uncle. "My uncle Ben was killed by a thief, a man I could have stopped before he got a chance to..." He trailed off, rubbing his knuckle into his eye. He dropped his hand just as fast. "I didn't want to see that happen to someone else, especially when I could do something about it."

My throat tightened in my neck. I tried to swallow the lump, but it didn't go down. "I'm sorry."

Peter stood up from his seat and walked over to the balcony doors. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either." I followed him, my knees wobbly and weak. I pulled the plastic cover off of my cell phone and slipped out the photo of Greg, offering it for him to see. "None of it is our fault."

Peter looked at my photo as he dropped his head to lean against the glass. He handed it back to me and shook his head. "If I was paying attention, maybe I could have done something to save him. I could have been there, I could have followed the --"

"Stop it." I reached for one of his hands at his side and squeezed it in my own. "It's not your fault, remember?"

He watched me intently, like he was waiting for something to become clear on my face. I dropped my eyes self-consciously, but he lifted my chin with the light touch of his fingers. He brushed his thumb over my cheek just as softly.

I knew what was coming, and I had to say something before it happened. "Chase." I whispered, reminding him of my significant other.

His hand disappeared immediately. "Right."

That was my slap in the face. I needed Chase gone for good.

I returned to my apartment, catching Chase just before he walked out the door to resume his work day. "Hey, we need to --" He cut me off before I could finish.

"I gotta run now, babe. I'm already late." He kissed my lips and gathered his things on the counter. "Your parents called. I told them we'd come over for dinner tonight."

I did a double take. "What?"

He shrugged in the innocent way that drove me crazy. "They invited us, what was I supposed to say? I'll see you later." He kissed my cheek once more before he slammed the door in my face.

What the hell.