Peter Parker Imagines - t.h

// is this seat taken? // pt.3

// is this seat taken? // pt.3 
word count: 2061 (wow wow wow) 
"I-I don't remember how I lived before you asked us if you could sit with us, honestly."

Being sad is so restricting, she found. Sat in a ball on the couch, Y/N laid motionlessly ahead of the television. It played an overly annoying and enthusiastic advertisement–not that she noticed anyway. Her eyes absentmindedly found interest in the tiny cracks and patterns in the ceiling, scanning the dull colour of beige that was painted over the top. The couch cushions were burning hot under her warm, unmoving body, even though she felt fairly cold.

Y/N's hand rolled down towards the floor lazily. She felt a sensation run through her arm, blood rushing down to her fingers, discomfort filling her whole. Then, there was that aching feeling in her chest. A pang of emotion stabbing right through her, again and again, and yet she was unfazed.

The agony felt so painless and so excruciating at the same time. But she wasn't going to do anything about it.

You could call this 'homesickness'. Y/N thought she wouldn't ever get over it, and she was probably right. This affected her much more than everyone else told her it would. Y/N spent long periods of time, day-dreaming about being there, and not here. Yet, she'd open her eyes and snap back into reality and find herself in that classroom she would forever be unfamiliar with. She missed feeling normal.

She wanted home and wherever she was lying in at that very moment, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, wasn't that place. She felt that it would never be.

Y/N didn't want to move. No matter how many times she told herself to, there was something holding her down. Y/N was tired, she knew there would be nothing great to see if she perks her head up over the cushions. Just a room that will never be compatible with the one she grew up in back in Australia.

A light knock on the door interrupted her muse, causing her to jump to her feet, muttering curses under her breath. Y/N ran a hand through her untamed hair, mentally reminding her to at least take a shower and brush through it. Adjusting her glasses and blinking multiple times, she slid a key between her fingers, clicking it into the lock of her door.

There stood Peter Parker in all his nervous glory. He was holding a folder to his chest, his fingers tapping rapidly. With his hair in a slight mess and his feet shuffling awkwardly, Y/N couldn't resist smiling at him. Peter was so goddamn adorable.

"Hey, Pete," Y/N greeted softly, leaning against the door frame.

"H-Hey," he coughed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

Y/N's chest tightened as she tilted her head to the side in question, holding a hand to her hip. She could at least try and be nice to him, she did, after all, ignore him and Ned all day. Y/N couldn't help but feel guilty.

"So, what are you... you know, doing here?"

Peter widened his eyes and stumbled over his words, losing all of his confidence. "I uh- I could ask you the same thing?"

"I live here," Y/N replied, as-a-matter-of-factly.

"R-Right," he mumbled, "well, this morning, y-you missed out on some important things. N-Not that it's your fault, I totally understand if you slept in. I mean, we all d-do it. No worries. You know, maybe I'll just go; you'll ace it anyway, you don't need my help. Who am I kidding? S-So, uh-"

'Cute.' Y/N chuckled, holding up a hand to shut him up. "You're rambling again. Relax, we're best friends," she reminded him.

Peter, exhaling slowly, slumped his shoulders and gazed intently at the floor. "I figured I'd, you know, drop off my notes. A-And to be here for you, seeing as you weren't yourself today."