Three days came went, and there was no response.
Peter hadn't seen M.J. at F.E.A.S.T. either, despite going there each day since he had last texted her. She seemed like a very private person, so he decided keeping his distance was best, only glancing around for her while he was there. Fighting the urge to text or call her while he had down time wasn't easy; he tried his best to keep busy. This was much easier at F.E.A.S.T, where he had things to distract himself with. Back at Happy's apartment, however, was a much different story. Peter tried reading or watching movies, but nothing really seemed to help.
As each day wore on, these attempts to distract himself had been less and less effective. By now, Peter's thoughts couldn't get away from M.J. Perhaps it was his tendency as a protector kicking in, developed from being a neighborhood watchman of sorts over the last couple of years. However, he was also beginning to wonder if this wasn't something else. Peter had only known M.J, or at least seriously tried to know her, for less than a month, yet he was worried about her as if they had been close for their whole lives. It didn't make any sense.
It wasn't a sentiment that had gone unnoticed by others either. The previous evening, he had finally confided in Happy about the matter.
"She seems to mean a lot to you," Happy had said at one point in their conversation. Once again, there was no teasing in the man's words regarding Peter and a girl, just a simple observation. It felt anything but simple in Peter's head though; how could he come care about someone so much in such a short period of time?
He had only nodded in response, unable to even convey fully what he was thinking in that regard, and Happy reinforced that Peter was doing the right thing by giving her some space and leaving the ball in her court so to speak.
"My guess is that, if she wants to talk, she will," he had said.
The problem was, M.J. tended to be stubborn and independent. This wasn't necessarily a bad trait in the average circumstance, but nothing about their circumstances was average these days. Surely everything that had happened would be enough to break even her. Peter had Happy, but did M.J. have anyone?
In short, despite being able to easily bench press a truck on an average day, Peter had never felt more powerless.
Peter's day at F.E.A.S.T. had been straightforward, if not borderline uneventful to this point. He had worked with a few other volunteers to set up chairs and the sound system for a presentation Martin was planning as a brief fundraiser of sorts. He was supposed to have over some others of New York's richest in a more secluded floor of F.E.A.S.T. to show them what he was doing and how he was changing the city for the better to get them to come alongside him in his post-snap efforts. All that to say, everything needed to be in tip top shape, and Peter and his fellow volunteers made sure of it.
Martin Li sure seemed like the real deal. He had even offered to take Peter to lunch the day before. The man said it was both a thank you for his efforts as well as a chance to get some feedback, such as if he felt he was being used in the right capacities, if there were other sections they wanted to try, if they were having any issues with other volunteers, etc. Not to mention that money was of no issue, so Peter's super powered appetite was well filled by the time they had to get back. He only hoped Martin would simply think it was him being a teenager, instead of, oh, an enhanced individual who could climb walls and dodge bullets at nearly point-blank range. Whatever the case, in his short time at F.E.A.S.T, he had watched Martin go above and beyond for both himself as well as everyone around him, and it was encouraging to see to say the least.
Peter was almost out the door after completing his work for the day when he heard a ding on his phone. Immediately he stopped short of the door, reaching into his pocket and yanking it out to see if it was what he hoped it was.
M.J: "Come to the roof."
Peter didn't even respond, instead stuffing his phone in his pocket and immediately darting for the stairs. He found that he had to control himself to prevent reaching almost inhuman speeds, and he almost ran a couple people over as he rounded corners or neared doors. Finally, he came to the way to get to the door that led out to the roof, where he stopped for a moment. Peter found himself suddenly a little nervous. He knew this might be the only chance he got, and if he blew it, it might push her away for good.
Taking a light breath and letting it out slowly, he opened the door and stepped out onto the roof. Sure enough, there was M.J, standing somewhat close to the edge but not close enough that she would be considering stepping off, at least from what Peter would guess. Taking a few steps from the door, he spoke up.
"I got your message."
M.J. didn't turn around at first, but Peter remained steady. He was determined to help her feel as comfortable as possible in the hopes that it would help her trust him, and he felt the best way to do that right now would be to let her dictate things. This decision appeared to pay off when she finally spoke up.
"I'm sorry about the other day," she said. Her voice was mostly steady, but Peter caught the slightest undercurrent of it breaking. "I got your message, I just... I guess I'm just not used to people reaching out to me like that."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Peter said. "I guess I just wanted you to know that, if nothing else, I was and still am willing to be the first."
M.J. finally turned around to face Peter. She still seemed composed enough, with no signs that she had been crying before he came up here. Her face carried a softer expression though, but Peter new that could change any second.
"I presume that you've been wondering these last few days why the sturdy, hardcore acadec captain was having a breakdown the other day?" she said.
"I think I might have something of an idea at least," Peter replied. "You know, given what's happened and everything."
M.J. looked down at her feet for a moment before responding. Her arms had been crossed the whole time, and they remained that way now, showing that maybe she was still slightly on the defensive. After a moment, she looked up.
"It wasn't just that my parents are gone, Peter," she said, seemingly fighting to ensure there was no waver in her voice. "It's what happened, everything that happened before really."
Peter just nodded lightly.
"Okay," he replied. "What happened?"
There was once more some hesitation on M.J.'s part, though less than before once she continued.
"My whole life, both my parents were workaholics," she began. "My mom sold jewelry and my dad sold insurance. We weren't the most well-off family, but I never specifically wanted for anything."
Peter nodded in acknowledgment as she continued.
"The thing was, they were never around as a result," she said. "They didn't necessarily travel as much as you would think, but even though they were home a lot, they were always on the phone or the computer doing something work related. The day I became captain of the team, I brought it up to them when I got home. My mom mentioned something about how great that was, but she didn't even look at me when she said it."
Peter was slowly beginning to understand.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "I can't imagine how frustrating that must have been."
"Yeah, well, I hadn't really expected much to begin with," she said, her voice colder than it had sounded to this point, but the pain was beginning to let out more. "Anyway, at that point, I just decided, 'You know what, fine. I'm not going to worry about them. I'm going to look after myself, because that's what I'm being raised to do.' After all, I had the decathlon team, and that was really all the socializing I thought I needed at the time."
"Alright," Peter said. "So, what happened?"
"For a while, I thought I was good after that," M.J. replied, "but my frustration with them still grew. I tried to ignore it, showing nothing but the indifference that they seemed to show me. But one night... I just couldn't do it anymore. Everything that had been building for most of my life and especially in the last two years finally came to a head. I was trying to give an update on how the team was doing, and they couldn't even be bothered to pay attention, and I just lost it. I yelled at them about how they were so stuck in their work lives that they couldn't be bothered to listen, actually LISTEN to their own daughter talk about her day."
By now, M.J.'s voice had begun to ramp up, and it was almost unnerving. For as long as Peter had known her, she was the most chill, even keeled person on the planet perhaps, but now some hard truths about her life were rising to the surface. Her story's conclusion was already beginning to play out in Peter's head, and he spoke up.
"That was when the snap happened, wasn't it?"
M.J. nodded, vigorously wiping at her eyes a couple times to fight the tears that were surely coming.
"It's almost funny in a way; you would think almost that, based on what I had just told you, part of me would almost be happy they were gone. Instead, all I felt that day..."
She sniffed, fighting back a sob.
"All I've felt ever since is regret," M.J. continued, her face practically threatening to burst as she fought to maintain control of herself. "My last words to my parents were so filled with anger and rage, and now I'll never get the chance to just tell them that I didn't want it to go that far; that all I wanted was them."
For a few seconds after that, both Peter and M.J. stood there in silence, with the former taking in everything he had just been told. He felt a deep sense of both sorrow and sympathy for her.
"There, now you know," she said, still fighting back tears as she wiped her eyes. "Now you know what a horrible person I really am."
She started to walk to the door, but Peter side stepped her, blocking her path.
"You're not a horrible person, M.J," he rebuffed lightly, "and I understand a little of how you feel."
"How?" M.J. questioned, giving something that looked like a scowl, but without the full malice behind one. "You talk like your aunt and uncle were always there for you."
"I was mostly lucky in that sense, yes," Peter clarified, swallowing as he prepared to continue. Now it was his turn to open a can of honesty. "But that didn't mean we had no issues."
M.J.'s eyebrows narrowed in what looked like curiosity, but she said nothing, so he continued, composing himself as he did.
"The day I lost Uncle Ben, I... I had had a particularly bad day dealing with Flash and some of his friends. My uncle just listened up until I said I wanted to hit him. He always had a pretty hard stance that, unless you are being physically attacked or sticking up for someone else who is, you stand down, and since Flash's assaults were always with words or jokes, that was what I should do. I told him that I needed to do something, since I never had much luck going to the principal. He held fast and said that I needed to be better than him. I lost it after that, saying that I was sick of being punished for trying to live up to his moral code, and I stormed out of the house."
M.J.'s expression was now one of both curiosity and shock. Clearly, she was learning a side about him tonight as well.
"Anyway," Peter continued, wiping back his own tears as the memories of that night became more and more fresh. "I walked for a while to let off some steam, and I stopped to grab some ice cream at a store, because, you know, ice cream makes everyone feel better. However, I had forgotten until I got up to the cashier's desk that I didn't have much change left. I only came up a few cents short, but the guy at register wasn't having it, so I left the ice cream and walked off."
"Did you go back home after that?" M.J. asked.
"No," Peter replied. "Not long after I had left the gas station, I hear the register guy calling out all of a sudden, trying to get my attention. I turn to find that someone must have robbed him, and he was chasing the thief, who was running towards me. At that point, I was so upset that I didn't even try to stop him; in fact, I stepped out of the way so he could have an even more clear path. Deep down, I knew the worker didn't deserve that, but at the time I didn't care."
Now M.J.'s face was almost pure shock, and it almost caused Peter to stop in shame. He knew he needed to finish though, so he continued.
"After that, I just kept walking around Queens for a while," Peter said, "until I come up on a crime scene. There were a bunch of people, and I couldn't tell what was happening. I figured maybe at least I could use a good distraction, so I walked to investigate. I make my way through everybody, but when I finally get to the front of the scene, I saw..."
Peter got choked up and had to pause, allowing a sob to run its course.
"I saw my Uncle Ben lying on the ground," Peter said. "He'd been shot. I went to him, but it was too late; he was already gone, but do you know what the worst part of it was?"
M.J. shook her head slowly in what seemed like a stunned daze.
"I found out later that the man who shot him was the same guy who had run past me after robbing the gas station," Peter said. "My last words to him were about how I was tired of trying to live by the standards he wanted me to, when it was those same standards, or even common decency, that would've saved his life. May also told me that he was out because he had come looking for me that night to apologize for not being very understanding. He felt he needed to apologize; isn't that crazy!"
"Peter," M.J. said after a pause, "I... I didn't know."
"See," Peter said, again wiping his eyes, "you're not the only one who has secrets they aren't proud of."
There was a pause. The two of them had basically unloaded on each other, and Peter could tell that she didn't know how to proceed either. Still, M.J. was the first to speak up.
"How... how do you deal with something like that?" she asked. "Does the guilt ever go away?"
"No," Peter replied, shaking his head. "I still have nightmares about it, and sometimes the guilt overwhelms me during the day so much that I feel like I'm about to explode. I guess I just... I carry on. I was lucky to have May and Ned there to help me through it though. I don't know where I would be today if they hadn't been there for me after that happened, which is part of why it's so hard that they're gone now."
M.J. swallowed nervously, once again looking as if she was fighting to control her emotions.
"I've never really had anyone like that in my life," she said.
Peter gave her a smile.
"You have me."
That finally did it; M.J. broke, throwing her arms around Peter. He could hear and feel her tears and her sobs as she released likely everything that had been building up since the day of the snap. If he was honest, he would admit he cried a little himself, but at the same time, he felt great relief. He had finally gotten through to M.J; she had opened herself up to him. For a long time, he just held her as she let it all out, and eventually she recomposed herself.
"Well," M.J. said, wiping the remains of tears from her eyes, "I hope you don't expect to get something like this out of me all the time."
Peter let out a chuckle.
"Of course not," he replied, offering her a smile, drawing a small one from her in return.
After these last few days, it was so good to see her smile again.
Hope you all are continuing to enjoy it!
Praying for you all; stay safe and healthy out there!
"They replied, 'Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.'
'But what about you?' he asked. 'Who do you say I am?'" Matthew 16:13-20
