Peter

1:37 AM
Tuesday

Peter stared up at his ceiling as he slowly sank down into his bed, groaning in pain as he held his side, which he had patched with gauze.

It didn't help that the blood went right through it. 

Sometimes he really hated that he decided to be Spider-Man again. Because he definitely did not miss the injuries that followed after a fight. Especially the fight after Rhino.

Couldn't move for days after it. That's what sucked the most.

Peter sighed quietly, tapping his fingers against the covers of his bed, shutting his eyes softly.

"If you call this number again, I swear to god I'll get the cops involved."

Peter's eyes snapped open and be almost shot up, pausing when that sharp pain returned to his side and he huffed. "Shit." He groaned, slowly standing up from his bed.

"I'm not getting back with you, for fucks sake! Need I remind you why I left?! You almost got me killed!"

Peter slowly walked out of his bedroom and towards his front door, pressing his ear against it as if that's help him hear any clearer.

"Please. Just leave me alone. I can't deal with this. I can't deal with you. Stop calling me. Stop texting me, emailing, anything that you can use to contact me! I hope your suffering is long and well deserved." There was a click of the phone as MJ hung up. "Fucking hell."

Peter frowned in confusion at the conversation, wondering who MJ had been talking to, and why she had sounded so scared during it. Obviously, Peter assumed the person that called her could possibly be an ex she was running from, but having the cops involved meant she felt endangered.

The temptation to check on her urged Peter's hand to reach for his doorknob, frowning when he realized it was jammed.

"What the hell?" He mumbled, yanking on it. It still didn't budge even with his strength. Though he wasn't trying very hard. He didn't exactly want to pay for the repairs.

Peter grumbled under his breath, cursing to himself for buying such a cheap apartment. But he was fairly broke, so he couldn't exactly get a penthouse.

Peter backed away and towards his kitchen, still holding his side as he limped towards the freezer, taking out a bag of peas and resting it against his wound, praying it would heal faster.

"I really hate this job sometimes." He mumbled, looking out the window, staring at Oscorp, which was far in the distance.

Now he really regretted taking this apartment.

Mary Jane

She stared down at the now blocked phone number, dropping her phone onto the table and sat down. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing quietly.

Maybe she needed a new number again. Or to just not have a phone at all. But then again, she needed it for work.

She couldn't exactly afford to lose a 'high paying' job like the one she had.

MJ hummed as she picked up her note pad, staring down at the frantic scribbles that looked similar to that of her doctors handwriting.

Black goo. Parasite? Pandemic probably.
Stay away from it. Could possibly kill... or eat me.

She flipped through her notebook again.

Ask him out. Don't be a bitch about it.

Again.

Goo could be extremely dangerous. Maybe call the FBI if that's even possible. Don't take any chances trying to touch it... no matter how much you want to.

Again.

Peter - always late/never shows up. Had a weird bruise on his cheek earlier but disappeared pretty quickly. Make up for attention?? No. He doesn't look like a good make up artist.

Always shows up after Spider-Man leaves.
Spider-Man = Peter??
They sound similar. Same height. Can't tell body shape. Peter is always wearing something too thick to tell.

She frowned at the notes and ripped out the page, crumbling it up and tossed it in the open trash can.

"Ridiculous." She mumbled to herself. But was it really such a bad idea? He had quick reflexes. And after his girlfriend died, Spider-Man went missing for a while.

MJ laughed to herself and shook her head. There was always only one way to really figure it out. She could camp under his window and wait, or ask him herself.

But what if he wasn't Spider-Man and he was just really bad with time? That could be his excuse.

MJ's head snapped up at the sound of sirens wailing in the distance, hearing a loud scrambling from Peter's apartment.

I guess this was the moment of truth.

Without a second thought, MJ yanked her jacket off of the coat rack and slipped on her shoes as quickly as possibly, bolting out of her apartment and sprinting towards the stairs. She nearly tripped on a crushed can, yelling a curse to her neighbors for being trash goblins before bursting through the stair case door, running out of the apartment complex with a loud crash, yelling in pain as she slammed her arm into the door knob.

"Shit!" She snapped, groaning in pain as an old man scoffed at her.

"Language!" He snapped, and she mumbled a bitter apology before running around into the alleyway between another complex and her own.

MJ's head snapped up as she impatiently waited, staring at Peter's window in hopes to catch him slipping through it. She knew he wasn't dumb enough to run out through the apartment doors.

She felt like she was waiting an eternity, sighing in defeat as she slowly started to walk back, pausing when she heard a crash.

MJ turned back around to see an air conditioner, splattered on the cement between the alleyway. She slowly looked up, eyes widening when she saw Spider-Man poking his head out the window.

Specifically the window she had been waiting ti see any movement for.

She watched as Spider-Man cursed, jumping out his window and onto the lower roof of the other complex, yet he did it as if he were in pain. It was too dark to really see anything, but she knew something had gone down a few hours ago at a bank.

It was on Twitter. Spider-Man stopping some robbers from stealing a bunch of money from a bank on 5th and 23rd.

Now it really did make sense.

Peter being late in their first date. That bruise he had, when she had seen Spider-Man get punched right in the face by a gun online. Why Spider-Man left after the death of Gwen Stacy... His girlfriend.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man...

How the hell was she supposed to deal with that?

MJ wasted no time with looking at her phone, her eyes widening as Twitter scrambled her notifications. A notification that shook her to the absolute core.

Harry Osborne escapes from Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane, following the death of his cell mate, Phineas Mason.

MJ's phone slipped out of her hand with horror, dropping to the cement as the old man looked over at her with a concerned look. "Are you alright, ma'am?" He asked, slowly standing up.

MJ looked up at him, frowning at how familiar he looked. Like she had seen him before, yet knew she had never met him in her life. "Um... I Uh.. I just needed some air." She smiled nervously, snatching up her phone and rushing back into her apartment.

"Shit shit shit shit shit- oh fuck—" MJ gasped with a quiet Yelp as she actually tripped on that can from earlier, slamming her head into the stairs. "For fucks sake!" She cried out as a loud ring echoed in her ears, rubbing her head before resting it in the ground. "Ohhh that's gonna be a concussion, isn't it?" She mumbled, shutting her eyes tightly to hold back tears of pain.

And eventually she just knocked herself out.