Mistake

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Everything ached- his side burned, his throat was raw and all he could taste was blood. The metallic taste stuck to the roof of his dry mouth and made him cringe a little. He was so damn tired of tasting his own blood. With a shaky sigh, he let his eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings. This wasn't his room- he was sure of- oh. You. He remembered now- you patched him up, you saved him. Now here you were, on your side, laying next to him as you slept. God- the sight was incredibly painful. It hurt him more than anything because he wanted this. He yearned for this more than he yearned for anything in his life. He wanted this- wanted you. He was only a teen, but he was so unbelievably ready to one day wake up to you. He was ready to fall straight off the deep end for you and all your quirks. He wanted to learn all he could about you- wanted to be the reason you laughed and smiled. He wondered what your laugh sounded like- or how you looked when you laughed. Did you crinkle your nose? Did you hold your stomach and double over? Or did you cover your mouth and snort all sweet like?

He would never know, would he?

He would never know what you were like- what your bedhead might look like or if your smile was as dazzling as he imagined. Maybe it was better this way. The less he knew, the less this would hurt. His head would forever be plagued with questions of you- but he could deal with that. He'd rather deal with that than with knowing you and being unable to love you. He could make this easier on himself by just leaving. He could watch you from afar just to be sure you were safe and nothing more. He would lay awake at night and wait to feel any signs of you- just to be sure you were still around, still safe. This was his karma- this was the price he had to pay for this life.

He just wished he didn't have to pay it so soon. He wished he could've went longer without knowing he had a soulmate. That was much easier to deal with. He could handle feeling that- it was easier than this. It was better then- it didn't hurt quite this much. Just looking at you made his eyes burn with tears he refused to let spill over. This wasn't fair.

Why wasn't the world fair?

Damn- the things he would give to be able to be with you. The things he'd do to be able to learn you and love you- to have you adore him the way he imagined you might. He didn't know you, not by the smallest fraction- but the universe worked in weird ways. It let him have a good idea of what it would be for you to love him. It let him imagine it- and it let those thoughts kill him inside. This was what his life would be. He would go around saving the people of Queens, sacrificing his own wants and needs for the greater good. If he didn't, who would? He deserved this, and he had to remind himself constantly.

If he didn't, he would've laid there with you all night long. He would've run his fingers through your soft looking hair and study your beautiful sleeping face. He would've held you close and take in the warmth and sweet scent of you. He would've fell so incredibly hard for you- but he didn't. He tucked you into your bed, careful not to wake you. He locked your door so you would have time to clean yourself if anyone came knocking and he shut off your lights. He got fully dressed in his suit, minding his now healing sutures and climbed out your window. He stood on your fire escape for a few moments, looking inside your room one last time. You were still asleep, head snug against your pillow, body curled up in your sheets. You were beautiful.

Oh what he'd give to be able to stay..

You didn't want that though- he knew this now, so he left. A soft thwip was heard, and then he was long gone.

You awoke cold, alone, and confused. Your room was dark and empty. Your parents still weren't home you assumed and Peter was no where to be found when you turned on your lights. All traces of him were gone- he'd cleaned out the bowl you used and put it away. His bag was gone, the rags were gone- the only thing that proved that it wasn't some dream was the dried blood that was still on you. He didn't leave a note or any forms of contact- and you guessed you deserved that. All you'd done since you met him was yell, run away and claim this was all a big mistake. What a wonderful way to treat your soulmate...

You sighed and put your head in your hands. There was nothing you could do now. You wouldn't see him again until you went back to school. You didn't know where he lived and he was always out protecting Queens. The chances of him being right where you needed him were slim to none. So you'd wait until school to be able to chase him down. You had to tell him this- but it wouldn't be easy.

This time around, he was running from you.

He moved seats in sixth block. He turned away from you in the halls and ran off at the end of the day. He avoided you at all costs and was even more careful as he ran around as Spider-Man. He never returned to your window- never left you fighting back screams at three in the morning. Nothing.

It was as if he didn't exist- and for awhile you wondered if somehow your tie to him disappeared. You were proven wrong one night when you felt the wind get knocked out of you- and still, he didn't come to your window. He wouldn't even look at you- and now you knew how he felt.

Still, you tried desperately to approach him- to tell him that you'd realized you were wrong. You chased after him one day after school- it was odd though. Usually he was much faster than you, this time it was like he let himself get caught.

"Peter I-"

"Leave me alone, [Y/n]. Please. I've stopped hurting you- can you do the same for me?"

That was all he had said before running off again- and it hurt more than you thought it would. The tables were turned. You were the mistake now..

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