The Masks we Hide Behind || Peter Parker [1]

twenty-five: maybe i'm not okay

The next morning, I find myself waking up to the sound of screaming police sirens speeding down my street. I roll over onto my side with a groan, savoring the soft, warm feeling of my bed. My cheeks feel sticky and my eyes are puffy from last night, since I couldn't stop myself from crying. My hair is a tangled, frizzy mess, and I hadn't even bothered to throw pajamas on to sleep in last night, I literally had crashed into my bed wearing only my undergarments.

My hand slithers out of under the warm, plush quilt on my bed and over to my bedside table to grab my phone. I yank it out of the plug and watch as the screen lights up, and I begin to scroll through my notifications, not even bothering to check the time. Then, I realize that I should be checking the time, and when I do, I realize that I should have woken up and been dressed a good twenty minutes before. Lovely.

With a groan I let my phone fall onto my white sheets beside me, and I shiver as I throw my blanket off of me. Goosebumps rise on my bare skin as I slide out of bed and wander over to my closet. I look over my shoulder and out my window at the overcast sky before snatching a pair of sweatpants that I had worn earlier in the week, along with one of my many old hoodies.

I get myself dressed quickly and with a yawn I exit the door and enter the tiny bathroom. I glance in the mirror quickly and focus on something else, before quickly returning my attention to my reflection. I sigh once I set my eyes on a giant, purple bruise on my forehead, from last night. I gently graze my fingertips across the spot, frowning. Great.

I attempt to run a brush through my hair, and once it's all brushed out, it hangs down in an even frizzier mess. I sigh and pull it up into the most half-assed messy bun I've ever seen, then continue to wash my face. I then walk into the small kitchen, and my eyes fall onto my older brother, who's hunched over the counter and looking very suspicious.

"Lucas, what are you - wait a minute, are those donuts?!" I end up practically screeching the last part as I realize that he's literally shoving all of the mini powdered donuts into his mouth.

I ran the rest of the way into the kitchen and Lucas slams me to the side, continuing to eat the entire bag of donuts, which happens to be quite large. I shove him back and snatch the paper bag, opening it and frowning.

"Asshole. You ate, like, all of them." I mutter as I reach into the bag.

Lucas shrugs and wipes at his mouth. "Whatever. You're the one who woke up late."

"Not my fault," I say and roll my eyes in response and watch as he runs his fingers messily through his hair and collapses onto our couch.

"Kinda is," He says and gives a fake chuckle. "also, where were you last night?"

I carry the bag of donuts with me into my bedroom and open the drawer of my bedside table, grabbing my small bag full of makeup and heading over to sit on the floor of my bedroom, in front of the tall mirror leaning against the wall.

"Out doing stuff," I call as I unzip the back and pour everything out. I sigh as I spot two large, inflamed pimples on my lower right cheek. I pull out my concealer and begin to do my work.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Spider-Woman stuff," I reply, practically caking concealer onto the pimples until most of the redness is somewhat covered up. Good enough.

"So, that's where that giant bruise came from?" Lucas asks.

"Yes." I mutter, wiping and dapping a large, stained blender across my cheek. I sigh and push all of my makeup aside, standing up and stretching with a yawn. I look like complete and utter shit, and I couldn't care less.