Warning: this is much more fluffy than the other two, partially due to my belief that Mary Jane does not have the capacity for abstract thought, so to speak. But she is a main character, and I do believe this piece turned out deliciously angsty and fluffy so enjoy it or don't, but please review.
Mary Jane lay back on her bed, alone in her downtown apartment, taking a moment's pause to just reflect.
Something was missing from her life. She had a great job, she had friends, she had rich and influential boyfriend, yet still she felt empty. Looking back through all her various relationships, she realized the emptiness had always been there, although she had only noticed it recently.
If it has always been there, she thought, maybe it is supposed to be there. After all, no one she had ever known had been truly happy in their love lives. Her parents had had drunken and violent altercations their entire married lives. Harry, one of her closest friends and one-time boyfriend, was the child of a messy and hateful divorce. She thought about the play that she was in, and how the characters in it were all idle, meaningless chatter, frilly clothes, and tea-sipping. Their lives must have been as empty as hers.
Love had never been really exciting. In a way, she had been lucky, because all the important people seemed to naturally gravitate towards her. First it was Flash, the prom king who owned a convertible. Then Harry, the son of a CEO. Now it was John Jameson Jr., astronaut and son of a media mogul. There had been a time when she fancied herself in love with Spiderman, and it was thrilling and exciting, but her affections were never really returned and she eventually wrote that off as girlish infatuation.
Upon thinking about it, she realized there was one person she did feel complete with. It was Peter. She quickly dismissed this thought. Peter had nothing to offer. He was poor, he didn't talk much, and he was a flake. He couldn't even spare a little bit of time from such an obviously "busy" schedule to come see her play. Although she valued him as a friend for his unwavering support through the years, he couldn't seem to actually commit to her, even if he did appear to worship her in his timid, shy, and hopelessly nerdish way.
Still, there was something about Peter she couldn't quite figure out. He was almost mysterious, here one moment and gone the next, and his conversation was often quite cryptic. He was always disappearing, running off to do something that was obviously very important to him, but that the rest of the world could not figure out. And the injuries he came back with, though they healed quickly and never scarred, were never adequately explained. Peter was a tough nut to crack, and this made him "elusive," which se deemed must be the reason she was drawn to him.
Whether or not she did care for Peter in that way, she still had her own future to think of. She had a good boyfriend, a sweet, loving person with power, influence, and wealth, someone who might not make her happy but would never make her unhappy.
Forcing herself to be satisfied with this conclusion to her mental ramblings, she turned off her light and lay there in the dark for a little while, trying to get Peter's face out of her head. Why did life have to be so difficult? She needed someone there to hold her, but no one was there. She was all alone in the dark. Her heart aching from the emptiness and loneliness within, she rolled over onto her pillow and cried herself to sleep.