While you complained every day when you went to the gym hidden underground in Brooklyn, you knew that your father meant well-he only wanted the best for you. And that meant training in self defense nearly every day for three hours after school, sometimes by yourself and sometimes, on days he wasn't away on a job, he went with you.
Today you had gone by yourself, the gym empty and eerie. Punching bags hung from metal bars crossing the ceiling, and sometimes the fluorescent lights flickered, making you feel like you always had to keep an eye on your six.
Your father taught you that-to always be aware of your surroundings. While you wiped the sweat from your brow and began unwrapping your knuckles, you kept glancing up towards the door, behind you to the shadowy corners, getting the uneasy feeling of being watched. Shoving all of your things into your gym bag, you slung it over your shoulder and quickly left the gym-locking it with the key your father had given you.
The chilly night air hit you suddenly-you realized that you had stayed longer than usual. Dressed in nothing but some spandex leggings and a sports bra, you hurried to catch the next train to your apartment building across the way in Queens. Your father's top priority was your safety, he had given you a phone pre-programmed with all of the numbers of people he trusted to take care of you if he couldn't-which wasn't often.
Sometimes you wished he would let up every now and then. It was difficult having him as a father, he was so old-fashioned. You understood that it was just how he was brought up and how he lived his life, but sometimes it was just so smothering.
The subway ride back to your stop was quiet and uneventful. As you walked up the stairs to your floor, you remembered that your father was on another job-and you relaxed. Passing down the hall, you stuck your key in the lock and jiggled it-it was so stubborn. In those few seconds, the door across the hall opened, and you glanced over your shoulder immediately. Instinct, remember?
It was Peter, who gave a goofy grin when he saw you. Your heart fluttered, and you returned the smile with a friendly wave.
"You're home later than usual," he said, trying to be casual as he leaned up against his door frame. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he began to stutter, "Not that-not that I'm like, keeping tabs or anything. Just....just an observation."
You laughed, used to his odd behavior-you found it endearing and sweet. Gesturing to your apartment, you asked, "Do you want to come hang out?"
He fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie. "Is your dad not home?"
"He's out on a job," you said. "Don't worry-you'd know if he was."
With that, you let him in, and after a quick shower and a change of clothes, you were both sitting on your fire escape. This was one of your favorite places, and hanging out with Peter felt right. You had just recently met him after finding out you both went to the same school, and living right across the hall was a bonus. You would spend a lot of time just talking, but you were always reserved on how much you revealed about your personal life. You didn't want to be compromised.
"You know," Peter said suddenly, staring at you. "You....you really look like someone I know."
"I guess I have a plain face," you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.
"No, I'm serious," he said, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. He was serious. "I feel like I've met you before...."
"Peter, don't worry about it," you laughed with a dismissive wave of your hand. "I'm sure there's a lot of people in New York that I look like."
He stared at you some more before averting his gaze and glancing at his watch. "I-I better get back. I don't want Aunt May to worry too much."
You nodded, suddenly feeling very shy. You walked him out, and watched him from your door, disappearing into his apartment with that same, goofy grin of his.
Almost immediately afterwards, your phone rang loudly in your pocket. You closed the door, and pulled the phone out of your pocket, groaning inwardly at the name DAD flashing on the screen. Taking a deep breath, you answered it with a cheery, "Hey, Papa!"
"[Y/N], how many times have I told you?" his voice sounded from the other end. "You can't let people into the apartment!"
"I know, I know," you replied, rubbing your temple. Damn, you knew he'd be watching the security cameras. "But it's just Peter-from across the hall. I get lonely, Papa."
He was silent for a moment. "I'm coming back home the day after tomorrow. We took care of everything here in Germany."
"Everyone make it out okay?"
"Yeah, everyone's fine," he said. He sounded completely exhausted. "What do you say when I get back, we go spend some quality time together? I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks, kiddo."
You smiled, but tears brimmed in your eyes. "Because you haven't."
Your father was silent on the other end for a few seconds, before he sighed audibly. "I'll see you soon, I promise."
"I'll see you soon," you said softly. "Love you, Papa."
"I love you too, my little super soldier." With that, his end of the line clicked, and there was silence.
