Dear Daenerys86, seeing as you were the first comment on my story. I'd like to name a character after you, if thats alright, please drop me a line :)
Hope you enjoy chapter 2.
It had been several days since Peter had last visited Gwen's grave. He found himself stuck in his room, creeping through his drawers, looking at her photographs. Trailing his finger over her hair and cheek, forcing his lips tightly together to prevent him from crying. His chest tightened and his fingers twitched to rip the pictures in half, hoping that would offer him some kind of relief, but he couldn't bring himself to see her beautiful face broken. He tightly shut his eyes as a tear bubbled in the corner, only to see her face, hair falling before her, arms stretched, falling-thud.
His eyes pried open as every inch of his body had gone cold. He had been hearing it everywhere, that thud. It was hiding in the back of his head, and wherever he went or how desperately he tried to banish it, it would be there-thud.
He threw his hands against his head, pressing down on either side of it, hoping to silence it. If his head were to pop like a grape, it would stop, it would most definitely stop. He was sure of it. His face flushed in reds and pinks, breaths escaping him in mewling gasps as he tasted salt. Gwen would know exactly how to stop it, she would know exactly what to say to him, knew exactly how to straiten his mind, without her he was lost. So very lost. "Peter?"
His eyes snapped open, to find his aunt in his door opening. "Are you alright?" She asked, so sweet and warm like only she could. "You've been up here so long... won't you come down?" she added, steadying herself against the frame. Peter let out a breathed huff, releasing his head from the deadlock it was in, leaving red marks on either side of his head as the blood drained from his face again. His hands warmed, to an almost boil. He wanted to throw something at her, shut the door with a mighty bang that would level the entire house, he wanted to scream as loud as he could so that the world would go deaf. He blinked as the red marks ebbed away. "I'm... going out." he said, jumping to his feet, chugged his pack over his shoulder and quickly manoeuvring round his aunt. "don't wait up okay."
thud – thud – thud – thud.
With every step he took, he could hear it, the sound of her smacking against the floor, his web a moment too late, he was a moment too late. Her face. Her face, looking up at him, expecting him to catch her. She knew that he would catch her, he would, he was going to catch her. Thud. Those hopeful eyes screaming his name. He quickened his pace, running as fast. Why was he too late? When people fell he caught them, he secured them with his web. He caught them, he always did. Why didn't he catch her? Thud. She trusted him to catch her. That's why she was there, she knew that if she fell he'd catch her. He'd protect her. He always did. Thud. Why had he not listened? Why had he broken his promise? He tried to break it off, he did, he did. She wouldn't listen. Thud. She'd broken up with him. Thud. And still she died. Thud. He let her die. Thud!
He jumped against the tallest building and started to climb, his fingers sticking greedily against the bricks. As swift as he could he moved up, not losing his footing once. It had been long since he had moved in such a way without his suit. He could feel it, neatly tucked away into his pack, but he couldn't bring himself to wear it. He groaned angrily only adding to the rage building up inside him, he could feel his face heat up. His mouth was dry and tasted of metal. But as he reached the top, and smartly manoeuvred himself over the edge he looked strait into the eyes of someone familiar.
"Peter?" right in front of him stood the girl from the cemetery. Her eyes wide with wonder, as he noted there wasn't a fire escape on his side of the building, and thus, no way he could have climbed up. He wanted to reply to her, yet caught himself very aware that he did not know her name, he hadn't asked for it. He sat down, simply not knowing how to get out of this situation. She had seen him clearly, and there wasn't a lie he could think of to save him. His anger instantly converted to panic, as he began to sweat. And she was just standing there, feeding some seeds to a pigeon.
"... how was your weekend?" she offered, cooing her pigeon. Weekend? She just bore witness to him climbing a 7 floor building, and she was asking after his weekend? "Smashing" She must be getting at something. "About.. just now... I got into..wallclimbing- rockclimbing I mean, a while ago-" he tried, gesturing as his mouth dried up again, painfully aware that he had no gear on him. "I do...freestyle...rockclimbing." he elaborated. "Cool! You know nothing about rock climbing do you?" She rebutted with a tiny smile. "Well not the sport at least." she added quickly after, shrugging her shoulders.
"Well, that is just very judgemental of you, and I must say I'm disappointed, very disappointed in fact, that you would assume that I know nothing of rock climbing just because I'm new to the sport. You would think that people assist instead of pass judgement of those that are less knowledgeable of certain climbing...sports." Peter tried, witting his way out of it. "and to add to that, if I were to say now, that I in fact was knowledgeable on said sport, I would simply be justifying your judgement, and if I do not you will simply assume that I do, in fact, know nothing. It's quite the predicament we find ourselves in." he stared at her, vaguely hoping that his intense rain of bullshit had jumbled up her brain enough.
"that's better." She said, pitching her bird on the edge, rubbing the few stray crumbs off her hands. "If you're gonna lie, you'd best make it a good one. There's nothing more insulting than a lazy lie." She added. "There was no need though, I wasn't going to ask."
Peter shifted nervously, just a moment ago he was consumed with anger, and now those feelings had subsided. His ears were ringing with the absence of the sound that haunted him. "Why are you here..?" he decided to ask, the silence weighing on him. She stepped closer towards him, a skip in her step. She contorted her face from a frown, to a scowl, and finally a smile. "I live here. This my apartment building." Peter only noticed now that she had freckles on her nose and cheeks, and that her teeth weren't exactly strait. She held out here hand, edging for his. "Here."
He reached for her, his sleeve covered hand preventing any actual physical contact. She'd given him a hand full of seeds. Various kinds as far as he could tell, though he could only identify the sunflower seeds, he had three of those. She guided his hands towards the till nearby. It was a rusted old thing, though spotless, suggesting it was cleaned regularly. She opened a little gate and stuck through her arm, unfolding her hand, demonstrating. The birds immediately had at her, eagerly picking away. She nodded towards him. "go on."
Peter copied her, opened the gate and stuck in his hand. The birds seemed less excited to eat from his palm. They were used to the girl, not him. After a few moments passed, a single pigeon approached him, bouncing towards him, cocking its head in weird positions as if trying to size him up. It was the weirdest feeling, having it pick at his hands. Its beak brushed against his fingers, harsh and smooth, making the hairs on his arms stand upright in weirdness. "The landlord doesn't allow pets inside, but he does let me keep these pigeons up here." She explained.
"They seem pretty hungry." Peter mumbled happily as more birds joined in, forcing a chuckle out of her. "They always are, greedy little buggers." She said while making a most unattractive face, attempting to conveigh something to the pigeon seated on her fingers. First she mimicked a fish, then for some reason she changed her expression into something that could only be described as orcish. Peter wanted to laugh.
A silence fell once more, leaving the two to tend to their birds. Neither one could think of anything of relevance, and so they simply said nothing. The girl, being practised, and no longer paying attention to what she was doing, sneaked a peek at Peter. He was wearing a sweat vest, which he had probably worn for quite a while now, it was ragged and threadbare, much like his jeans. She wondered what part of it would give way first. Was it going to rip at his knees,well more than it already had. Was one of his butt pocket flaps going to fall off? Was his crotch going to rip? The latter option made her chuckle.
Peter looked at ease, though his hair looked as if it had fought a war all on its own, and lost. His bloodshot eyes were carried by deep dark circles. If she were to come across him at night, she'd ball her hands into fists without hesitation. She rubbed her hands together, raining the remaining seeds onto the till-floor. "Peter?" She called, answered only by a hum. "You hungry?"
Peter let out a disturbed sound, quickly pulling his hand out of the till and closing its gate, seeds still sticking to his fingertips. Clumsily he shook his hand, trying to expel them, to only send them into his sleeve instead, causing him to wave his arm even more frantically. "Ahhh ehh, you're really nice, but I can't do that, I'm not- I mean I don't even know your name, you're practically a stranger right, besides I really don't feel...ehh" Peter threw, his face colouring in panic. He continued. Though his reasoning was now incomprehensible blabber.
"Peter, calm down. I was going to make you breakfast. I wasn't going to try and bed you." The girl was grinning widely, as he started to relax again, his mouth slumping down into an eased smile. "I'll leave that for another day" she muttered, mockingly, causing Peter to jerk awkwardly again. He smoothed out the creases in his jeans, patting off the dirt. "I-Idon'tknow" he mumbled. "C'mon, you spazz. I'm hungry."