A low groan escaped his lips as he skidded across the ground. This would be the second time tonight that he'd practically eaten concrete. He could faintly hear the criminal behind him laughing, taunting him by asking how it was that a normal person like him could have Spider-Man on the ground so easily. That familiar copper taste filled his mouth- as he basically slammed into the ground, his teeth had clacked together and he guessed that he'd bitten his tongue as well.

Great. Just great.

He was damn tired of tasting his own blood and even more tired of having his ass handed to him by petty criminals. It would be different if this were some kind of super-human like he was- but no. This person was normal- they were someone he could easily web up and be done with. So why was he getting his ass handed to him? Why- oh. Right. He was distracted. Completely and utterly distracted, so much so, even his heightened spider sense couldn't save his ass. Instead of focusing on the fight out here in the physical world, he was focused on the fight in his head. Ever since you'd given him that beanie and ordered him his coffee just how he liked it, he couldn't stop thinking about you. About what he might feel for you- what he couldn't feel for you.

It was a simple gesture- it was nice, and it didn't stop there. Your kind gestures grew, just like your smiles did. The other day you'd brought him lunch- you'd claimed you made too much, but your rapid heartbeat told him otherwise. This morning you'd brought him coffee again- and before he ran off to save the day, you insisted he take your scarf because, once again, it was freezing and he was still only wearing his one jacket. You didn't have your beanie today, but you had a scarf, one he was now currently wearing as Spider-Man. Yeah, obviously not a good idea- but it wasn't like it stood out. Spider-Man could've gotten a blue scarf from anywhere! At least he thought well enough to not wear his very familiar old jacket. Still- he couldn't let himself feel this way. Not for you- not for anyone ever again.

She still haunted him. Her memory was still fresh and painful- he loved her. He loved her with every fiber of his being. He had dreams of a future with her- he'd dreamt of growing old with her. He never once imagined it'd turn out like this, and he didn't want to let himself be that vulnerable again. He just couldn't do it- and it wouldn't be fair to you either, would it? To have him still hung up over an ex- to have him questioning everything you do- but that would only be true if you had feelings for him. Right now he couldn't tell, and he'd like to keep it that way.

"Hey- nice scarf, haha-!", the criminal spoke, bringing Peter back into reality as the mans dirty fingers reached for his scarf.

"Don't touch it.", Peter hissed, the lenses on his mask squinting with his sudden burst of anger. In a matter of seconds, he was on his feet, nimble as ever. Suddenly he was back in the fight- suddenly he was very protective of the scarf you'd given him. He couldn't lose it and he couldn't let it get dirty. It wasn't his, and yeah, you'd said he could keep it- so it shouldn't matter if it gets dirty or lost right?

Wrong.

The criminal was left hanging upside down from a light post for the cops to find. By the time they had, Peter was long gone and his scarf was safe and clean inside his apartment. It hung on a make-shift coat hanger- bright blue practically screaming at him as he stared at it. He only had to deal with this until the project was over and done with in a few weeks. Winter break was coming up, and soon he'd be free. It wasn't that he didn't like you or that your company annoyed him.

If anything, he greatly enjoyed it. He was quiet, yes, but that was because he liked to hear your voice. He liked to see your smiling face first thing in the morning and it wasterrifying. He couldn't allow himself to grow accustomed to you. To crave you and want you near.

Yet here he was, staring at your blue scarf with a torn gaze because he knew he was fucked.

Someone was going to get hurt, and he knew it was going to be him

You were losing your mind just as much as he was, only for much different reasons. You were lucky enough to be spared such an earth shattering heartbreak. You'd had one prior relationship, and it ended mutually. You both had just grown apart. He went on to do his own thing, and you yours. You were losing it because you thought Peter hated you. He didn't make much conversation. He showed up with disinterested eyes and a broken smile- and then left like he downed four cans of redbulls in a single go. Anytime you brought him coffee or even lunch he just looked.. petrified. It was as if he wanted nothing to do with you, and that was scary. You just wanted to know- you had to. Were you wasting your time? Was he only being nice, when deep down he really couldn't stand you?

The thought of him hating you hurt- you barely even knew him, but you wanted to know him. You wanted to learn his quirks and earn his warm laughter.

So of course, the next morning that you saw him, you had to ask. You had to know, and the question spewed from your lips as he began to leave in a panicked rush.

"Peter- do you not like me? Or- Or being partnered with me?"

Your question caught him off guard, making his head snap up instantly. The hurt look in your eyes made him falter. It was this small moment- that innocent question, that made him realize there was no escaping you.

He'd be damned if he didn't try.