The warmth of his lips on her forehead pulled her from sleep, as the mattress shifted under his weight and his arm slid from around her.
"I don't think so," she mumbled and wrapped her arms around his waist before he could get up.
"I have to go, (Y/N)," Peter said quietly, and she knew by his voice that he was smiling.
She tightened her grip around him, peering up to find his eyes roaming every inch of her face, mouth quirked up at the corner. His silhouette glowed gold, his hair alight against the sunlight which poured through a gap in the curtains behind him. "Five minutes," she whispered.
With a resigned sigh, he lay back down beside her. He traced his fingers over the hair above her ear as she allowed her hand to play with the hem of his shirt. A hiss escaped his lips as her fingers grazed his bare skin and she suppressed a smile before leaning into him, placing a soft kiss on his collarbone where it peaked out of his shirt.
Peter's hand trailed from her hair to her shoulder, then to her waist where he pulled her flush against him. She hummed into his neck, pressing kisses the whole way up to his jaw.
"(Y/N)," Peter said lazily as his grip on her waist tightened. "I should-"
She caught his lips in hers before he could finish and kissed him with enough passion to make him forget his train of thought completely. Usually Peter would pull away before things got too heated between them, but that morning his hand found its way to her thigh, the other tangled in her hair as he rolled her onto her back, underneath him. It was only when (Y/N) moaned softly that he realised how far they had taken it.
Peter pulled away, perched on his elbows above her. (Y/N)'s lips chased his, but he was just out of reach, and she fell back onto the pillow with a sigh.
"I really have to go," he told her. His mouth was set in a firm line, and she knew she couldn't distract him from leaving any longer. She allowed her eyes to search every inch of his face-the freckles on the bridge of his nose, his deep brown eyes, the unruliness of his left eyebrow-before he kissed the tip of her nose and climbed off the bed.
"At least tell me where you're going," she groaned, sitting up to watch him pull on his jeans.
"The Stark internship," he replied without meeting her gaze.
"On a Saturday?"
"Mmhmm," he said, almost falling over as he shoved his shoe on.
"When are you coming back?"
"It'll be late. I'll see you tonight, though."
As much as (Y/N) enjoyed spending the night curled up beside Peter, it wasn't enough. Was it too much to ask to spend the day with her boyfriend? In six months, they had been on two dates, both at the beginning of their relationship. She was always excited when he climbed through her window at night, and she never felt more loved than when he would stroke her hair until she fell asleep, warm and safe in his arms. But for once, she wanted to spend time with him when she was awake.
"What, they're gonna keep you there all day?" she asked, fiddling with her bedsheet. "That can't be legal."
"Not... all day," Peter replied. "Until six. And then I have homework."
"Bring it here. I could use your help with physics."
"I was gonna go to the library."
(Y/N) eyed Peter from her perch on the bed. He was crouched down, tying his shoelaces, and taking advantage of any excuse to avoid looking at her. She lifted the blankets and threw her legs over the side of her bed, feet bobbing as she played with the hem of her pyjama shorts.
"The library closes at five-thirty on Saturdays."
Peter finally looked at her, his eyes slightly wider than usual, his lips parted. He didn't say a word. It was as if he was standing in the middle of a frozen lake, and the ice was starting to crack. He couldn't move for fear that his next step would send him into the ice-cold water.
"Why do I only ever see you at night, Peter?" she asked eventually. She had to work to keep her tone even.
(Crack.)
"What do you mean?" he laughed, but there was a nervous edge to the words. "We hang out in school all the time."
"Yeah, and then you disappear as soon as the bell rings and I don't hear from you until after dark."
"I'm busy, (Y/N). You know, I have this internship-"
"I know, and I'm happy for you. But when you're not at the internship, you're at the library, or helping May, or hanging out with Ned, and I just don't understand why" -she took a deep breath, feeling tears brim her eyelids, determined not to let them fall. She hadn't realised how close her worries were to the surface. These were thoughts she had had for months, but when she found herself close to speaking them aloud, she would swallow them back, afraid that her doubts might scare Peter away. "I just want you to be honest with me. Do you not like spending time with me?"
Peter's face fell, his mouth hung open in a silent "oh" and his eyebrows pulled together. "What?" he said softly, sadly. "No, of course not." He moved towards her, kneeling in front of where she sat on the edge of the bed. He tenderly took her hands, holding them together on her lap. "(Y/N), I love spending time with you. It's the best part of my day."
She looked from her hands in his to his sad eyes, and she wanted to believe him. "Why lie about the library then?"
(Crack.)
Peter looked away, biting his lip. "I'm not- I didn't-"
"It's not the first time you've lied to me, either."
At this, he met her gaze again, and all her doubts were confirmed. His wide eyes betrayed him; he was keeping a secret, and she was threatening to uncover it.
"A few weeks ago, you told me you were going to dinner with May. She called me that night and asked where you were. She hadn't seen you all day. And I know you weren't hanging out with Ned last week when you said you were-"
"(Y/N), I can explain-"
"I'm not sure I want to hear it." She couldn't keep her voice from breaking, and she couldn't hold the tears back any longer. His gaze made her heart ache, so she got up and moved towards her desk. He followed close behind. The cracks webbed across the ice now, threatening to give way at any moment.
"It's not what you think-"
"What is it then?" she asked quietly, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to regain her composure.
"It's not"-he let out a frustrated sigh-"I can't-"
"You can't tell me," she finished for him quietly. Even with her back to him, she knew his shoulders were sagging. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks before she turned to face him. She had never seen him look so upset; his eyebrows falling heavy over his wide eyes, brimmed with tears. His lower lip trembled. She could feel hers do the same. She knew what she had to say, and once she put it out there, she could never take it back. "I can't do this anymore."
The ice water was even colder than he expected. So cold it stole the air from his lungs. Peter flinched, as if she had just punched him and was rearing back for another blow. His eyes glistened behind a veil of tears, face contorted in confusion and hurt. "(Y/N), you don't- you can't mean that," he said uncertainly, reaching out for her hand. She didn't let him take it.
"Tell me where you're really going today, Peter." Although she tried to sound firm, her voice wavered. She had never suspected Peter of cheating, or anything that might hurt her. Truly, she thought the most he would hide from her was a weird hobby, like maybe he was taking needlepoint classes, or going to medieval re-enactments. She thought he would break and tell her everything as soon as she confronted him. The fact that he was fighting so hard to keep his secret made her wonder if he was so innocent after all.
Peter looked to the floor, seemingly searching the carpet for an answer. "The inter-"
"Don't," she spat. "Do not say the internship."
He looked into her eyes and opened his mouth, but no words came out. The only answer she would accept was the truth, and he couldn't offer it.
"I really didn't think this is how it would go," she whispered, tears spilling onto her cheeks once again.
"Please," Peter said desperately, cupping her face and wiping the tears with his thumbs. "Please can we just forget-"
"Forget this happened?" she spluttered. "I wish."
"(Y/N), this doesn't have to be it," he insisted. Tears overflowed from his eyes, too, leaving streaks down his cheeks and falling onto his shirt. He was watching her slip further and further away from him. He was losing her. In a last-ditch attempt, he leaned forward and kissed her cheeks, her nose, her lips. "Please," he whispered against her skin, voice breaking. "Don't do this."
(Y/N) took his hands in hers and brought them away from her face. It was her sad smile that confirmed everything he feared: he had lost her. "How can I trust you if you can't even tell me where you're going?"
He shook his head, jaw clenched, holding back the sob that threatened to erupt from his chest.
"I'm going to take a shower," she said quietly as she made her way towards the door. "Please don't be here when I get back."
"(Y/N)," he choked. "What are you saying?"
She paused, her hand on the door handle. She couldn't bring herself to face him, so she breathed the words into the door. "Goodbye, Peter."
She left the room, making sure the door was closed before the sobs sent shockwaves through her body. She only got into the shower so the water could drown out the sound of her sniffling. When she ran out of tears to cry, she scrubbed her skin, the image of Peter's face contorted in anguish staining her memory. She scoured her skin raw until the hot water turned cold, and she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her shivering body.
She stood outside her bedroom door for ten minutes before she could go in, listening for any movement inside the room. Half of her hoped that Peter hadn't left. The other half hoped she would never see him again.
There was no trace of Peter when she finally opened the door. It was almost as if he hadn't even been there in the first place.
