AN ~ Well, I bought Spider-man on video the other day, and I should've known another fic would be coming from a mile away. :-) I'll reiterate - download this song, and you'll see that it fits Peter and Mary Jane so much; it's beautiful and tragic at the same time. Peter lives by himself in this fic. enjoy ;-)
Birdcage
-dutchtulips-
***
He knew what had made him do it. Usually, since Uncle Ben's death, Peter had always been able to rely on himself to remain self-composed through everything. Even when he was bursting on the inside, Peter had always found a clever way to put on a mask - so to speak - that shielded everything that was going on in his mind from the outside world.
That day in the cemetery with Mary Jane had indeed been one of those times. It hadn't been something he'd wanted to do, God no, but inside of his own mind that was what made sense from Peter to do. It had been the right thing to do, he'd been so sure at first, but with a never-ending train of thought about the whole ordeal, and all of the pain that accompanied it. . .Peter was beginning to believe that he couldn't really remember what was right about it anymore.
And that's what had made him do it. Peter Parker - quiet, subdued, and had been for a time self-composed about all of the hardships he faced in his life - was now sitting in the corner of his dark living room, with the only illumination being from the street lights - weeping bitterly. He had been trying to hold the sobs back in his lungs, but doing so made it difficult to breathe, the force was so hard.
The irony of such his situation when he'd realized it had stung Peter's whole existence; loving Mary Jane endlessly all of those days and nights and years, finding her to be always just out of reach - and now, she had the exact same feeling. Mary Jane at last loved him too, and with Spider-man racking his brains, Peter had just walked away. Wasn't this just like that Beatles song? Mary Jane loved him, wasn't he supposed to be glad? Wasn't he supposed to know that it wasn't a bad thing?
Except here he was, bursting at the seams with tears and weeping, instead. It was easy to act strong - just put on a straight face and hold back everything that was going on inside. But Peter finally had to admit to himself - not too long after the incident with Mary Jane, he just couldn't find a way to handle his emotions anymore. He was slipping into depression, he knew - but Peter was the heroic and majestic vigil Spider-man, and he couldn't afford to let his emotions break away from him.
So why was he sitting on the floor in the dark, crying?
It was because of the same reason it always was; because of the person who was the reason and the purpose for everything in his life, who Peter loved still after everything - and always would. He was crying for her pain, what it had done to him - what he had done to her.
Mary Jane.
To see her tears roll from her eyes that day in the cemetery, and to see how lost and hurt and so utterably, terribly sad; and for Peter to be unemotional, to lie to Mary Jane about - everything - and to just leave her there as if she wasn't important.
He'd deceived her, broken her spirit, crushed her heart to pieces. And he hated himself for it.
So sad that you took it so badly
And acted so madly
So scared
Like a baby by the morning
With sunlight unfolding
Your eyes have turned red
And are holding me inside your story
In the end you'll have started on a new one
Of anguish and delusions
Peter took in a shaky breath, attempting to ease the forecoming sob out of his lungs. But he felt himself choke up, and a grimace overtook his face as he struggled to suppress himself. At last, when he'd began to exhale slowly, the weeping overwhelmed him.
To his own ears, Peter couldn't believe he could sound like that, to sob and sniffle and feel his whole body quiver and shake from the sobs. But this had all built up for too, too long. All of the dreadful things that had happened to him since that god-awful spider bite; Uncle Ben's death, the attack on Aunt May, and all of the emotional struggle that he'd endured living two lives. . . The thing with Mary Jane had just pushed him over the edge.
Turning his head towards the wide window that Peter had been sitting by, the lights from outside caught his face, casting illumination onto his wet, red, and bloodshot eyes, the tear streaks down the front of his face, and the depressing frown on his face. Peter felt grateful that no one could see him, that no one knew where or who he was sitting in the corner of a dark room like this. He'd never, ever thought in his life that he'd ever be grateful to be a nobody - back when he was in school and everyone knew him as a geek and nobody already, but, well. . . he had Spider-man to thank for that.
He smiles just like a magician
Who's just cast his illusions
Of castles and sandstones
On the backbeach
And bright lights within your reach
Peter could feel a new wave of sobs building up inside of him and he quickly turned his head away from the window to slink back into the shadows of his obscure corner once more, to sit in his anguish alone.
But not for long.
No more than a few minutes later, a slender, feminine figure appeared at Peter Parker's front door, tucking a stray lock of her lovely red hair behind her ear. She was obviously shaking in her shoes, and as she raised her fist to knock, Mary Jane Watson noticed that the door was somewhat ajar. A crack in the door, a gap only a few inches between the door and the wall, allowed a narrow tube of light to stream into the apartment, and upon seeing this, arched her brow in confusion. Why would it be so dark inside if Peter was home?
And so, tentatively, Mary Jane edged the door open a bit wider, and silently slipped inside the apartment, pushing the door carefully back. She blinked for a few moments, and then finally her eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness. The outlines of furniture swam into focus, and then, eventually, everything was relatively clear that it was like second nature to Mary Jane's eyes.
The redhead looked around for a few moments, wondering where Peter could possibly be, until at last she saw a movement in the far corner of the living room. Upon closer examination, M.J. could see that there was a person sitting there, as if he were hiding himself from view.
Stepping closer, approaching the figure on the floor, she said softly, "Peter?"
He moved and, with his voice sounding clogged, rasped, "Mary Jane?"
"Yeah," she whispered, and then said, sighing, "I had to see you."
"I know."
Mary Jane crossed the room, coming closer until she was only a yard or two in front of him. She had opened her mouth to say something else, but a street light's light from outside caught his face, and Mary Jane froze. He's. . .he's been crying. . .
The light had caught her face as well, and that was Peter knew, by the way she was looking at him, that it had illuminated his to her also. He coughed, trying to ward off the sobs that had still been rumbling up in his throat when she'd came in, but instead Peter's breathing grew shaky once more, making it obvious what he'd been doing sitting there on the floor.
Mary Jane rushed forward to the floor alongside him, and immediately he clutched her tightly, wrapping her in a desperate embrace. She hugged back, feeling tears of her own roll down her cheeks and spill onto Peter's shoulder.
The sounds of a warning
By the morning
Of hound dogs coming for me
With the ropes leading back to your knees
And you looking straight at me
"I deceived you. . ." He stammered with a cracked voice, lined with tears. "And I can't, Mary Jane. . .I can't live like this. . .I wanted to keep you away from peril. . .But my heart won't let me get away with deceiving you to do it. . ."
Peter knew he wasn't making very much sense; his words were running together while he was still trying to retain his weeping, but Mary Jane merely held onto him tighter, letting her tears fall free. She understood, because she knew. But there was still an ailing question inside of her that was frothing even more by what he had said.
"You deceived me, Peter?" She asked in her gentle way, and sniffled.
"You deserved to know everything. . .but I didn't tell you. . ." He replied weakly, lifting his head to look at her with his wet blue eyes. "I didn't tell you that I loved you."
Mary Jane felt as if the weight of the world had hoisted itself from her shoulders, and more tears began to spigot from her eyes. As she saw and felt Peter's thumb reach up and wipe some of them away, a smile grew over her face, quivering because of her own weeping. "I love you. . ." She breathed.
Peter's voice was still rather shaky, though he replied, "I love you, too."
On your knees in the rain with a basket of flowers just for me
As the bells in the trees up above all swung and rang softly
You said you rang them for me
For me
At that moment, he wrapped her back up into a warm, tight embrace, feeling elated by the mere act of holding her close to him. Peter felt Mary Jane hug back, just as closely and lovingly. And inside he felt that maybe she was really what he needed after all - that she was his only hope for survival in the harsh world that Peter Parker and Spider-man lived in.
He needed to feel free, to break free from the encasement that closed him inside that dark well. Peter needed someone to unlock the drab and cramped birdcage where he was trapped and set him free. And he couldn't survive alone. He needed a center in his life, he needed something to cling to, to hang onto. He needed something to give him hope.
Mary Jane.
***
el fin