𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 | P. Parker

Chapter 5 - C6H12O6

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Gwen got dressed in a pair of black leggings, her turquoise pointe shoes, and a MIT sweatshirt she may or may not have stolen from someone. Her backpack laid on the dining table, filled with pencils, binders, and any other school related things she might possibly need. She opened the fridge only to see a few groceries she bought last night. The casserole dish sat cleaned in the dishwasher rack.

Shrugging, she grabbed a granola bar and water bottle just as the door knocked.

That must be May's nephew.

"Door's open!" she yelled out as she went back to her room to pick up her phone. She heard the door and close, so she assumed he must've came in. She came back into the living room to see a boy around her age – fifteen – with brown hair. She only saw the back on his head as she went back into the kitchen to grab her banana and granola bar. "Nice to meet you. I'm Gwen," she introduced herself, her speech sort of muffled from the granola bar in her mouth.

"Uh, yeah, nice to meet you too. I-I'm Peter," he introduced himself as well. After a thought, he added, "Parker."

Gwen froze, her granola dangling out of her mouth.

Peter Parker.

Peter.

Parker.

Aka May's nephew. Which makes her the Aunt May.

Aka Spider-Man.

Aka the person she saved two months ago.

The granola bar fell out her mouth and unceremoniously hit the ground with a thud as she slowly turned on her heels to see Peter.

This Peter is much cuter when he doesn't have a mask covering half his face. With soft, fluffy brown hair. Cute, chocolate brown eyes that have innocence shining in them, completely untouched by the cruelty of the world. His blue cashmere sweater allowed the plaid collar of the shirt underneath to poke through.

When Peter heard something fall on the ground, he frowned and turned around to see the face he remembered so vividly. The blonde hair, the green eyes. It was like he forgot how to breathe. The face that held pain when he saw it, now held surprise and disbelief.

Both of them just stared at one another, neither one saying a word.

Both of their minds racing with how to interact without slipping up and accidentally revealing something that has to deal with their alter-egos.

Peter cleared his throat. "Uh. . . we should probably get going if we don't wanna be late," he said, but it was more like mumbling.

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding, still in shock. She went to the door and opened it, motioning him to go first.

The two left the apartment, their backpacks in hand and the granola bar on the floor completely forgotten.

Peter and Gwen walked in silence all the way to the train station. He only spoke when her instructed her on how to get a card so she could use the train again as he assumed they would be traveling to school together every morning.