Peter Parker ▹ Spider-Man | imagines

alive | AU (8)

category: series
subcategory: alternate universe — soulmate
ex. a universe where every individual is meant for another; it is up to the universe whether they are found

previously: if love was easy, how would you know if they were worth fighting for?
continuing: can't we just be in love and kiss already?

third person
warnings: language, fluff
word count: 3,085
5:13 pm | can you ever forgive me?

Home isn't a place. Home is not somewhere you wipe your feet after a long day, it is not somewhere you cook your meals or brush your teeth or even wash your clothes. Home is not where you make your favorite packaged hot chocolate, it is not where you fluff your pillows and it is not where you hang your coat after dark.

In your world, home was never a place. Home was someone. Home was the hands you longed to hold as you rode the subway to school. Home was the skin you wanted to touch as you hurried through the torrential rain of November. Home was the kisses you missed at two in the morning, and home was the soul you loved that was made for you.

"You were always able to see," he whispered. "You just couldn't see without me."

Seeing was most definitely believing. In your world, people woke up everyday with a certain feeling. Either they woke up, hopeful that the holes in the center of their hearts would today be filled. Or they woke up, empty with the realization that whatever the universe held in front of them was beyond their reach. Or they woke up, entirely new.

You woke up new. That morning, you did not reach for the glasses on your bedside table. That morning, you did not trip on your way to the bathroom because you couldn't see the hump in the wood not seen by the lenses of your frames. That morning, you did not have tiny, red dents in the bridge of your nose from hours on end of fiddling with your glasses.

You did not need them. Now that you had finally met him, you did not need help to see. You could see the world crystal clear, you could see the tiniest details in the smallest of surfaces. You could read the fine print on the box of your cereal, you could see how faintly the stars glowed even blanketed with the city's lights. You could see. This was a gift that only he could have given you.

"You just couldn't see without me."

The day had gone by very slowly. It seemed the clock would not turn the seconds to minutes, and it seemed as if every class was hours longer than it should have been. There was a tugging in your body that you needed to be rid of. There was a longing in your chest that needed to be relieved, and you knew there was only one way to shed its nagging.

There was snow when you began to walk that afternoon. The December weather had finally shown itself to New York, and it was beginning to cover the sidewalks with its opening number. You walked faster. Crystals of snowflakes were beginning to melt into the softness of your hair, and you shivered.

You felt that longing almost burn through you as you brought your hand up to knock. The door was worn, blue-painted wood that seemed to call your name. You were desperate to walk inside, but you knew you would have to wait. You knocked four times, gentle at first but loud at last.

The door opened. Instead of seeing those lovely chocolate curls you had been yearning to run your hands through, you saw a young woman. She had a kitchen rag placed over her shoulder, and the opening of the door wafted a burning scent into the hallway. She smiled.

"You must be (y/n)," she said softly. Before you could reply, she brought you in for a hug. Your eyes flickered at her extended arms, ghosting over her skin. This newfound vision of yours let you see all the details, and you felt something sad sting you when you noticed a burned-over brand on the back of her hand. She had lost someone.