AN ~ If you have not heard this song before, I urge you to download it. It's one of the prettiest, saddest songs I've ever heard, and I knew that it was absolutely perfect for Peter and Mary Jane. enjoy ;)
Return To Me
-dutchtulips-
It was one of those slow songs that Mary Jane had heard hundreds of times before. At school dances, on the radio, there could always be found a sad, soulful song that would just suck one's emotions dry. Mary Jane never really paid much attention to those sort of things before, but after what she'd been through, it was no surprise that she was doing so now.
It was past midnight, and MJ had been tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. But try as she might, she couldn't. Mary Jane realized that her body wasn't even all that tired. But sleeping had always been a good way to get things off of her mind, and she had been trying to sleep a lot lately.
Groaning in exasperation, she rolled over lazily, and perked her ear to catch the radio noise, which Mary Jane had switched on earlier and was playing softly. As it turned out, the station had picked that particular time to begin another song. The music carelessly drifted through her ears, but when the singer began to sing the words, MJ's eyes fluttered open.
As the song had continued, she sat completely up in her bed to hear. It was one of the most beautiful songs Mary Jane had ever heard in her entire life. What was even more was that she could totally relate to what the singer was saying. Those lyrics were the reason she'd pained the last few days and weeks, the reason MJ wanted to sleep all of the time to get away from her troubles. . .everything.
She never believed that one feeling - one person - could make her feel as much joy as pain. It had been too overwhelming for Mary Jane to take in, and to accept. Truth be told, she'd never actually done the latter.
"If you should return to me, then we truly were meant to be. . .so, spread your wings and fly, Butterfly. . ."
Mary Jane leaned against the bedpost to be nearer the radio on her nightstand, and brushed back a stray lock of her red hair. As she did so, she felt - not to her surprise - her face wet with tears. But it was because of something more. It was because of the song as well as the other reasons she'd cried lately.
She couldn't remember ever getting to sleep; the distress had done that to her. But sometime after she'd finished listening to that song on the radio, Mary Jane had finally drifted off. But it hadn't been before an idea had sparked in her mind, one because of the song.
The next day was Thursday, which Mary Jane was grateful for, as it was her usual day off and she didn't have to go in for her Moondance shift. She'd gotten up late, besides - 11.00 AM - and after a quick lunch from the fridge and a run to the downtown shopping center to pick up something from the CD store, MJ sat down at her desk in her bedroom, withdrew some lilac stationary and a pen from the drawer, and settled down to write.
By the time she had finished, Mary Jane could feel the tears welling up again. Hastily, she wiped them away and folded the completed sheets of stationary into thirds, slipped them in an envelope, and sealed it. Then, deftly across the the front, she began to write, in her neat cursive, Peter Parker. . .
~*~
Saturday night. Peter had been a little late getting home from work that night, but then again, for Spider-man, work was never done. He sighed heavily as he walked into the lobby, pausing only momentarily to check the post office box. Harry wasn't too prone to doing it, as he had been lately studying from end to end. That left the chore to Peter; just another reason to sigh as he shuffled through the bills.
After withdrawing a few envelopes from the box, he closed it up again and started for the elevator, the post in his hands. After pushing the button for his floor, Peter distractedly skimmed through the mail. After scoffing at the couple of bills he knew he'd find, Peter was taken aback to find a lavender envelope in the stack. Curious, he stared at the address, finding his name prettily written there.
The apartment was dark as he unlocked and stepped into it. "Harry?" He called out, switching on a nearby table lamp. Wandering into the kitchen, he flipped the switch in there, simultaneously finding a note on the dining table.
Pete - At study group. Don't wait up. Harry.
"He amazes me sometimes," Peter mumbled, and then bitterly to himself, But then wouldn't he be awfully surprised with the secrets he could find out about me. He tossed the bills on the table next to Harry's note, but meticulously held on to the small purple envelope. Stepping back into the living room, Peter dropped down on the sofa and opened it up.
The lilac stationary fumbled in his fingers as he carefully unfolded the pages. Slowly, Peter began to read the dark purple-inked words.
When you love someone so deeply, they become your life
It's easy to succumb to overwhelming fears inside
Blindly I imagined I could keep you under glass
Now I understand to hold you, I must open up my hands and watch you rise
Spread your wings and prepare to fly, for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me, we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly, Butterfly
"Where have I heard this before?" He whispered to himself. Reading the first line, Peter had already known who the letter was from, and what was even more was that he was feeling exactly what the sender of the letter had when she'd written the words. Slowly, the words began to etch themselves in Peter's heart.
He continued to read.
I have learned that beauty has to flourish in the light
Wild horses run unbridled or their spirit dies
You have given me the courage to be all that I can
And truly feel your heart will lead you back to me when you're ready to land
Spread your wings and prepare to fly, for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me, we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly, Butterfly
He could hear it now inside his mind, the song, as if he'd merely heard it minutes ago. Peter didn't know how or why, but he could. The emotion was so overwhelming that it made his spine tingle. But no, not because of his spider-sense, but because of something else. Something more. Something, that was called love.
I can't pretend these tears aren't overflowing steadily
I can't prevent this hurt from almost overtaking me
But I will stand and say goodbye, for you'll never be mine
Until you know the way it feels to fly
Spread your wings and prepare to fly, for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me, we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly, Butterfly
. . . Spread your wings and fly, Butterfly. . .
And for the first time in a while, Peter Parker could feel hot streams trailing down his face. It almost surprised him; what, with the way he'd so simply walked away that day in the graveyard. Now, more than ever, Peter could feel his love for her so strongly that it was as if he could see it right there in front of him. Knowing his voice was break if he spoke, Peter thought, Why did I let you go? Why did I let myself be alone all this time knowing I didn't have to be? That I could finally have her love me like I've loved her for years?
He stared back down at the letter, noticing with bleary eyes that there was something written at the bottom of the last page he hadn't seen at first. Peter stared down at the words now, them filling his heart with an emotion he couldn't identify.
Last night, I heard this song on the radio. And it actually made me cry, Peter. It made me think about everything we could have had, everything I wish - with my whole life - that we could have, and that we still can have, Peter. . .if you'd just say that you could open your heart up a little bit wider and let me inside. But just so you know, I love you. I always will, and nothing is going to change that. And after all of the things we've been through, I can't help but think that you do love me, too.
~MJ.
Loving Mary Jane was just that. Loving Mary Jane. Putting his mind over his heart had been, by far, the last thing he'd ever wanted to do. But nevertheless, he'd done it, and this was the repercussion of it. Peter was aching inside, though he'd tried day in and day out to just go on with his life, but knowing how much hurt he'd cuased Mary Jane was what kept him from being able to move on.
In short, Peter was tired of hurting people. Pushing them away hurt them. Loving them even hurt him, or so he had thought. What difference did it make anymore? Alienating himself from life and love wasn't going to make a dang thing easier. Not for himself. Not for the ones he loved. Deep down he knew it, he'd always known it. After all, the only time Peter ever really felt very good about being Spider-man was when he was praised.
When Mary Jane had kissed Spider-man. . .
I'm going.
~*~
Nine fifteen. Mary Jane had just gotten home from her shift at the Moondance, which, as usual, left her in a lousy mood. Hoping that a shower and a change of clothes from her uniform would make her feel better, Mary Jane breezed into her room and into the bathroom to hopefully wash the bad day down the shower drain.
She'd just gotten dressed into a denim skirt and red sweater when the doorbell rang. Hastily, she snatched up a comb and started whisking it through her dripping hair, calling out, "Hold on, I'll be right there!"
Mary Jane rushed to the door and distractedly opened it. Occupied with a tangle in her hair, she hadn't yet paused to look up at the visitor. "Yeah?" She asked, quickly untangling her hair.
"It's me."
"Peter?" Her neck shot up to stare at him. Mary Jane could already feel her heart start to swell.
"Mind if I come in for a minute?" He inquired.
"Not at all." She watched him come in and quickly closed the door behind them. Her hair and the comb long forgotten, Mary Jane turned and watched him lean against the living room wall, watching her back.
"I got your letter," Peter whispered, averting his eyes but changing his mind at the last minute.
"Yeah," was all she could respond.
"And. . .I wanted to tell you that -"
Misreading his tone, Mary Jane grew crestfallen. "Peter. Don't. . .I know what you're going to say, so I'll save you the trouble. I'm sorry about sending it to you. You told me that you could only be friends with me, and I guess I should respect that. Peter. . .I wish I could just wish away my feelings. But I can't. I love you, all right?" As an afterthought, she whispered, "I was so sure you loved me, too."
"I do, MJ," he whispered.
She came closer, putting her hands on his arms. "See? It wasn't so hard, was it?" Mary Jane paused, then spoke again, her voice totally compromising. "Then why did you say you could only be my friend, and nothing more? Tell me, Peter. I want to know."
"And I want to tell you," he whispered. "But I can't tell you."
Mary Jane stood there for a moment, but then, suddenly, she felt a pang in her stomach. Bringing her fingers up to her mouth as it dropped open, she stepped slightly backwards. Her mind was reeling. The way he said it. It's as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. As if he's guarding the most valuble secret known to man. And he is! God, I'm so blind; why didn't I see it before?
Collecting herself, MJ took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Back in her compromising tone, she said, "Tell me something, Peter, and don't lie."
He looked up at her in response.
"How many times have you kissed me?"
Peter knew it had been coming, but he hadn't expected her to word it quite like that. As he stared at her, she peering back at him, waiting for his answer, he debated with what to tell her.
"Just. . .only. . . .once, Mary Jane. . ." He mumbled nervously.
"Look me in the eye and tell me that," she replied.
"I've only kissed you one time, MJ."
She almost wanted to laugh. "You looking me in the ear, Peter."
And Peter actually smiled. It was a sheepish smile, but one all the same. And Mary Jane, smiling back, knew, deep down, that it meant everything was going to be okay. "Originally," he said slowly, the smile still on his face, "I only came over here to. . .well, as the song you wrote in your letter so aptly put it - 'return to you.' "
"Really?" A happy beam broke her face. "What changed your mind?"
"Knowing that your love for me. . .actually makes me stronger. I didn't see that before, but. . .now I do." Peter reached for her hand.
As Mary Jane looked down at his offering hand, it felt almost like a dream. She'd reached out for him, and after all this time, he'd finally reached back. Except it wasn't a dream. It was real. And she slipped her hand in his.
"I love you. . .Peter Parker," she whispered.
"I love you, too, Mary Jane." He then drew her closer, and then their mouths met, mingling in a loving kiss that both of them needed so badly.
el fin