Heartbreak. It hurts like a bitch. To get your heart broken, you have to give our heart to other people and trust them not to break it. But, that always ends up breaking you. Having your heart dipped in liquid nitrogen and then beat with a hammer would hurt less than having someone you love break your heart. It's torturous, something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy and you are still someone who sets yourself up for it, every single time.

You knew that if you continued to date people, that they would likely break your heart and move on as if they've done nothing. They can apologize and really mean it but that doesn't make the ache in your chest hurt any less. It all still sucks. But, you're a sucker for a good love story and you're a sucker for everything romantic. You just want someone to love you and to love someone the same way. It just hasn't worked for you yet.

Tears swell in your eyes before cascading down your cheeks as you hit the familiar contact, a very happy and cheery picture of the brown haired boy you'd known forever flashed across your screen while you held the phone to your ear.

Three rings.

"Hello?" Peter says.

"Hey..." Your voice cracks with the word and Peter hears you sniffle.

"What's wrong?" He stops what he was doing to hear your response.

"Can you come over?"

"Be there in fifteen." Peter says quietly before hanging up.

He's your best friend. He knew you better than anyone in the entire world and you knew him better than anyone. You were his best friend. So, it absolutely devastated Peter every single time you called him about whoever left you broken and unwanted. He preached the same speech every time. You were perfect the way you and you shouldn't allow some douchebag to make you feel differently.

It helped, of course it did, it always did because it was coming from Peter's mouth. It didn't matter what he'd say because just sitting with him on your rooftop made you feel better. His voice was just a bonus. Nonetheless, it really didn't help him. Sure, he liked that he could make you feel better and your tears would dry up within the first ten minutes of him being there, and you'd be right back to laughing. But, you were still hurt. He could feel the pain you felt and he hated t. He hated that he couldn't make you see what he saw. Regardless, though, he'd never stray. He'd come every single time without fail.

Peter showed up on your roof like he did every other time. You were already there waiting for him, tear-stained cheeks and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from the New York breeze.

"Hey." Peter says as he sits next to you, pulling out your favorite candy from his pocket. "Stopped at the gas station on the way."

"Thanks, Peter." You give him a sad smile and take the candy, putting it in your own hoodie pocket.

"What, uh, what happened?" Peter asks, already knowing the answer.

"Broke up." You mumble as your bottom lip started to quiver.

"I'm sorry." Peter says with knitted brows.

"It's always me." You whine. "It's never them. I always put in my all for everything and then they turn around and then they leave and it's always my fault and I don't get it." Tears start falling as your voice grows louder with the sobs. "I just don't understand why I'm never good enough."

Peter stares at you silently for a few seconds, processing your words. He knew that sometimes you didn't have the highest self-esteem, it was written in the way you held yourself. The way your eyes lit up whenever someone would show interest in you. He knew but he was hoping that maybe, maybe that feeling, that sense he picked up from you would be wrong. It's never wrong, but hell, maybe it could have been.

But it wasn't.

You're now admitting to your best friend that you don't think you're good enough and he wants to shake you and scream that you're plenty good enough. You are good enough for everyone and it is other people's loss that they do not see how brilliantly amazing you are. He wants to make you feel loved and important, more important than you ever have before because he only wants you happy.

"You're plenty good enough, y/n." Peter says, his eyes not dancing with nerves or ease like they usually do when they're planted on you. They're serious. "You're always good enough." He shrugs, just once. "I-it's them. Y-you're the best person in the world and anyone who tells you differently is wrong."

You shake your head and look out over the sky. "You're my best friend, you're supposed to say that." You wipe some tears with the back of your hand.

"No," Peter says calmly. "I mean it. I wouldn't lie to you." You look back to Peter and he bites the inside of his cheek as his bones want to tell you exactly how he's felt about you all these years. "I-if I thought that you were wrong, I'd tell you but you're not." Peter looks away, taking a deep breath. "You're too good for the people you date."

You look at Peter and he is far too good for the world. His honest words are always like honey, sweet and sticky. Thye follow you, stick with you whenever you get yourself down. No matter how honest he gets, it's always said with kindness, sugar coated to protect your feelings while still getting the point across. He always says he's not good with words, but on your rooftop, that doesn't seem to apply. He knows what to say and his words flow with simplicity. He's your best friend and you have no idea what you would do without him.

"I just...just want to be loved, ya know? Have that happily ever after and it just doesn't seem to be working out for me. I just want to be loved."

The very tip of Peter's mouth twitches into what could barely even be considered a soft smile as he shakes his head, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach knowing it was not the right time to explain how his feelings affect every word that falls from his chapped lips.

"You are." He says softly.