Peter Parker ▹ Spider-Man | imagines

perfect (2)

[part 2 to reality]

Warning: mature language and content
third person
word count: 7,350
9:04 pm | it's a good thing to not be like her

You checked the time on your watch. You smiled, realizing your shift at the diner was over. 9 o'clock sharp, every weekday. You began to finish up, putting another fresh pot of dark roast coffee on the burner and closing the tabs on the tables you were waiting. When your manager was satisfied with your work, he dismissed you to go home.

"Are you sure you don't need me to call you a cab?" He asked, looking up from his notebook. He was keeping the books organized, counting the money in the register. His glasses had already put deep indents into his nose from lack of movement. You nodded, pushing your own glasses up your face.

"Yeah. Can't really afford it anyway. I'll take a shortcut to get home faster. Thank you, though, sir," you smiled warmly at him. You hung your apron up, grabbing your only coat and backpack from the employee cubbies. You slipped it on along with your backpack. As soon as the chill of outside hit you hard, you shivered and thanked the fluffy lining of your jacket for its warmth.

A job suited you. Having to ignore Peter more than usual was taking a toll on your sanity, and the job was the perfect distraction. Straight from school to work, giving you the perfect excuse to not stay around long enough for Peter to catch you. Not that he would try, he had his own job to go to.

You pulled your phone and headphones out, playing low R&B tunes and stepping to the music as you walked home. The sidewalk was washed in a yellow light from the street lamps, and you kept to them. The streets were always so dark at this time of night, and you welcomed anything but the dark. The bass of the music had you rocking your hips, and you suddenly felt carefree and happy.

Your uniform looked a little silly as you walked home. You were wearing a 50s-themed outfit, a striped red and white mini-dress and white sneakers. Your hair was adorned in a low bun, and you wore a round white hat. You still had that wooden 2B pencil behind your ear. Your lashes were voluminous and long, while your lips were bright red.

You secretly loved dressing up for work. When you stepped into the diner, you liked to pretend you were from another era, twirling in circles to the swing music and smiling at the customers, whether they were having a good day or not. You made so much extra in tips, and your smile and free-spirit is what made them throw in the extra dollars.

You didn't notice the shadows moving around you as you danced your way home. You were nodding your head to the beat, doing a few twirls as you kicked your feet up from time to time. The lyrics had you spinning in the music video you had created in your head. You had walked home at this hour for months now; what could go wrong?

You decided to take the shortcut today; you never did, because it involved going through a few dark alleyways, but you had done it before. It wasn't a new path, just one you didn't usually take. You weren't particularly fond of the dark. But at the moment, the music was taking you to new places. You were twirling in your content, your mind swaying to the happiness in your mind. There was nothing that could break that feeling, so why not just take the shortcut home?

You turned a corner, still tilting your head side-to-side. You were humming now, humming until you noticed a silhouette block the exit to the alley. You couldn't see who it was, but you knew it was a person. They were still and tall, and you hated how inanimate they seemed. You stopped the music that was blaring in your ear, and you swallowed. Your stomach tightened a little in nervousness. It was itching in the back of your throat. You tried to calm yourself and not panic. You turned to go back, and another silhouette stopped next to the entrance. Suddenly the panic that had promised to settle was going off erratically.