A/N: Hi guys! This movie has taken over my life at an alarmingly fast rate. I felt like I needed to write something about it or else it would drive me crazy. So, tada! I present you with some post-movie Peter and Gwen angst. It was surprisingly difficult to write, but that's mostly because there was a certain poetic style that I was kind of going for here.
He caves before she does, and there's no surprise there.
Gwen: so prideful, so strong-willed, so adamant once she makes up her mind; compared to Peter, the boy who can't keep promises and spends all of his evenings literally flitting from place to place as he pleases.
His depression worsens the longer he has to go without her, as if he wasn't already emotionally damaged enough. He feels like he's falling apart. Gwen is the only source of solace that works for him, and he needs it more than he can say. This life is too damn hard for him, he declares, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as images of everyone that he hasn't been able to save – Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, and so many more – flash through his mind.
He finds himself making a gentle landing on her fire escape. It's eleven at night and she's in her pajamas, drying her hair with a towel. When he knocks, she closes her eyes and pauses, frowning, before she opens her window.
Before he knows it, he's against her shoulder, crying and shaking, trying to express to her how he feels. He doesn't have the mind to try to be romantic, and he knows he's probably just blabbering about how shitty he feels as she tries to comfort him. He's in such of a state of dazed frenzy that he can't even be sure which of them pressed their lips to the others first.
He gasps for breath, steadying himself, kissing her with such passion that he makes sure she knows that she's his, that she's always been his and she always will be. His hands grope her sides, he's not thinking about what he's doing, and – fuck, this feels good, he thinks, the pain and confusion he felt before suddenly dissolving away.
And then she's gone, she's pulling away, her lips are off of his and his heart sinks and she mutters, "Peter, I don't want this."
Their foreheads are still pressed together. He can feel her breathing, which is something. "Yes you do, Gwen," he says, his voice breaking, hoping that if he says it out loud, she'll realize that it's true.
"No, Peter," she says again. He still stays there, his face next to her hair. It's still slightly damp, and he can smell her strawberry-scented shampoo. It is so quintessentially Gwen that he just wants to bask it in forever, memorizing it and everything about her. He wants her so badly it's ridiculous.
His hand fists into her hair and he's kissing her again, leaning forward as she's pulling back.
"S-stop it." She slips away from him, and stands up, crossing her arms over her chest, looking like she's about to cry. "It's time for you to go," she says, with a glance towards the window and back at him.
Despite the countless years of bullying, all the girls that laughed in face whenever he tried to talk to him, and all the parties he was never invited – never in his life has Peter Parker felt more rejected, more useless, more idiotic.
He takes the metro home, wishing that it was his only available means of transport.
She ignores him and he ignores her. They graduate the next month, and Peter doesn't even know whether or not she stills lives in the same apartment or if she's already moved away for college. He doesn't bother to check.
Gwen knows how to take care of herself, he knows. She is doing just fine without him – she will move on, find someone new, and she will exceed everyone's expectations of her.
Peter, on the other hand, he's fragile. He's had his heart shattered under the hand of the first girl he's ever loved, and he has no idea how to put it back together. And the worst part is, he's brought all of this upon himself – the responsibility, the loneliness, the anger. The only time when he feels like he might posses a shred of worth is when he pulls on that mask. He lives day by day, trying to improve the lives of others – because he knows his is already beyond repair.