If You're Quiet

He could still remember the first time he saw her. They were at a party that neither of them were particularly enjoying. She was outside, leaned up against the wall and enjoying a second of peace from the madness that was going on within. There was something about her, a sort of inner peace that drew him to her. She was comfortable with herself, which was something Peter had never experienced, always doubting, always thinking too much.

If he hadn't gone to that party, they wouldn't have fallen in love. She wouldn't be dead right now.

He could also remember their first kiss. He was walking her home after their first date. Peter had never really gone out with an actual girl before and wasn't sure what he should do. They walked in silence most of the way, not even touching due to their insecurities. They would eventually look back on that time and laugh at their bashfulness.

The front door was looming before them and Peter started to panic.

I should kiss her right? I mean, that's something you're supposed to do.

A quick glance in her direction and their eyes met; big, blue eyes against dark brown. In the moment before their lips met, her eyes filled with… something. What was it? Was it hope, love, pity, or fear? Peter never asked her. He would never get the chance.

He remembered how her lips felt: soft and rather slick with lip balm. His hands crawled up to her waist and her arms slithered around his necks like vines. Their first kiss seemed to go on forever, but it still ended too short.

"Wow." He exhaled, his breath tickling her lips.

"Yeah," She agreed. "Wow."

With a blush and a wave she disappeared into her apartment and he web-zipped home, his feet never touching the ground.


He remembered their first night together.

Skin, He realized. Skin for miles.

There was just so much of her to stare at. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't see all of her at once, he couldn't get enough. Her breath was heavy, though she felt weightless in his arms. Her fingers twined into his shaggy hair, as they claimed each other, for the first time. After that night, Gwen thought she would be with Peter Parker for the rest of her life. She even told him so.

"I love you, Peter." She had gasped.

"I love you too, Gwen." He had smiled.

She had fallen asleep in his arms afterwards, mouth slightly agape, a small puddle of drool forming on his shoulder. After Peter had gained his powers, he found sleep to be more of an option than a necessity. He took advantage of this ability now, watching her sleep with barely-repressed awe.

He thought of a lot of things that night, things that some people might find weird after only one night together.

How will our kids look? He wondered, playing a puzzle game in his head.

Peter wanted a daughter, with her eyes, her hair, and her nose. Basically, he wanted a miniaturized Gwen, one who would grow up to be just like her mom.

May Stacy-Parker, He named the imaginary child. Her friends would call her MayDay.

He smiled at the nickname and snuggled into the hypothetical mother's neck.

She would be a total badass.


He remembered the night her father died. Peter believed he had failed miserably, allowing lives to be lost in his battle with Doctor Octopus. She had called him after she had gotten the news. He hadn't answered, too busy being wrapped up in his guilt and shame. Gwen had suffered alone that night, no soothing voice in her ear. Peter would always regret not being there for her. He would always regret his failures.

Gwen was mumbling something.

"What was that?" Peter asked.

"… I hate him." She said.

"Who?"

"Spider-Man."

She would never know his biggest secret. Peter was convinced that if he told her the truth, she would leave him. So he kept her in the dark about his secret life. Lied to her face, snuck out at night, and hid away his wounds. Gwen had no idea. She had no idea what he had done.


He remembered asking her to move in with him. It was at the Christmas Party and she was upset over something, something he couldn't remember. Peter had gotten her a present, a necklace with her initial carved into it. As she had looked up from the jewelry and agreed to his proposal there had been something in her eyes again. Was it hope, love, pity, or fear? Peter had never asked, and he never would.

They had moved all the boxes themselves, not having the money to hire actual movers. As she struggled to climb the stairs with a pair of boxes, Peter jogged up ahead with the loveseat. As he dropped the furniture onto the floor, he took in the apartment for the first time. It was small and actually kind of shitty.

There was chipped and faded paint, rusted pipes, and creaky floors. But it was theirs, entirely and irrevocably theirs. Peter loved that apartment. When Gwen finally got to their room, she flopped down on the bed and wiped sweat from her brow. Peter sat next to her and grinned.

He had made some joke, something stupid that he couldn't even remember. She had laughed and swung at him with a weak punch.

Her laugh.

She never laughed enough for Peter's tastes, at least not after her father died.


"Would you ever like to get married?" She asked on night over dinner.

Peter, who was midway through taking a sip, spluttered water over the table.

"I thought I was supposed to ask you." He wiped at his mouth, while Gwen calmly brushed spittle away from her plate.

"I'm not asking," She explained. "I'm just… wondering."

"Yeah, I- I think I would." He stammered, before clarifying. "One day."

"I'd like that." She grinned into her cup as she drank.


He would always remember the night Gwen Stacy died.

The devil himself floated in the air, clutching the girl in his hand. Spider-Man was too far away, he was too slow.

"Tell us!" The devil roared to the heavens.

The mask came off in a flurry of red.

"No."

Her last word, Gwen Stacy's very last word. Peter would spend the rest of his life wondering what that word meant. What had she been trying to say?

"No."

The girl fell and he leaped. Her eyes; those blues eyes looked up at him, an enigmatic look seared into his mind. There was something in her eyes.

What was it? Hope, love, pity, fear…

Betrayal?