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maplecornia · 3 years

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chapter 30

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.85K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: another yoongles focus lol i just figured out that i really don't have much to say in these things anymore, i might save the a/n's for the end next time

This is not exactly how you expected to meet Min Yoongi.

His hand tightens around your wrist as he drags you through the halls of BigHit, and you silently pray that your small legs can keep up.

Looking up at him, you can't help but be a bit confused.

Why is he so angry anyway?

You didn't do anything to him.

Certainly nothing worth yanking your arms off.

Wincing as he turns a corner, your eyes widen as he opens a door and practically shoves you inside a dark room. You stumble a bit, an inner instinct inside of you resurfacing. You find yourself frantically looking for any form of exit, any form of a way out. When you find none, you swallow hard, feeling your hands palpitate with cold sweat and your breathing run short. Turning briskly to where Yoongi stands in front of the door, you step forward, ready to push past him and bolt before you’re hurt, but the look in his eyes stops you.

They’re soft, confused and slightly caught off guard. You wonder if the fear that prickles off of your skin is as evident to him as it is to you. Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard, trying hard not to show your discomfort. Inwardly, you chastise yourself for even considering that Min Yoongi would have any malicious intent towards you, but you can't help it when put into a situation like this...

Dark room.

Blocked exits.

No way of escape.

You can't help but be on your guard.

A bit confused, but choosing not to question it, Yoongi gestures towards a clothing rack to the left. Blinking, you turn towards it, begging yourself to relax. When he advances into the room, however, you flinch and frantically back up, straight into a tray of forgotten makeup and hair products.

He immediately stops at the reaction, and you downcast your eyes shamefully praying he doesn’t realize what you’ve tried so hard to cover up. However, as he takes in your frightened eyes, tense stance, and the shallow breath, he knows that somehow he has triggered a memory.

From the looks of it, even a form of trauma.

Definitely not what I expected.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on the light before turning to you with his hands up in a form of surrender. Almost a peace treaty. "Relax, I'm just trying to get a shirt for you."

You swallow hard, already feeling a bit better with the light on. Chuckling nervously, you straighten and nod, running your hand through your hair.

"O-of course you were. What else would you be doing?" you try to swallow the sudden rise of bile in your throat as you rub your arms violently to ease the chill your memories have brought you.

Yeah.

What else indeed.

Confused, but choosing to leave matters out of his hand alone, Yoongi returns to his task and rummages through the clothes dangling on the coat rack. Once he's found his prize, he turns to you and throws it towards you. Your eyes widening, you hardly catch it before he's already heading out of the door.

"Shirt." He explains bluntly, and you nod, a bit surprised that he used English. You smile inwardly at the sentiment, however. The small taste of home certainly helped you to regain your composure. You give a weak smile and tighten your grip around the shirt, hoping that it would be a better outlet to release the emotions bottled inside.

"Thank you." You murmur, and he nods before turning to leave.

He almost makes it out the door, but when he remembers something, he turns back to you.

"Do you know the way back?"

"Back...?" you mutter, a bit confused, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smile.

Looks like she's back to normal.

"To the dressing room, you're supposed to help us with the photo shoot today." Your eyes widen at his explanation, and you faintly remember your soiled schedule. Cursing under your breath, you wish you had at least taken a picture of the thing before heading to perform your duties. Maybe then you'd have a backup.

Well, guess that's a good thing to remember next time.

Realizing Yoongi is still waiting for a reply, you snap out of your reverie and smile.

"Oh, yes. I think I can manage." He nods before turning around and finally leaving you alone, the door closing with a few words of encouragement.

"Hurry up."

With that, the door is shut firmly behind him and you let out a small breath.

Well, no need to be so cold.

But then again, it was kind of him to offer you a shirt and not to pry when you had that slight panic attack. If you can even call it that. Sighing, you turn to the mirror and place your hands on the desk, staring deep into your hollow eyes.

It wasn't always this way.

There was a time when these eyes sparkled with life. When they were filled with joy and happiness, not a care in the world. Where you could smile without a weight on your heart dragging you down. Where you could live without feeling guilty of it.

Why do you feel guilty?

He deserved what he got.

He deserved to die for what he did to you.

“But still...he was my father.”

Biting your bottom lip, you hardly notice it as your teeth pierce through your skin and blood begins to trickle down your chin. Only when the taste of iron on your tongue pierces through do you realize. Flinching, you shakily wipe the blood away and lick your bottom lip as though that will erase the pain bound tightly to your heart.

No, nothing can erase this.

I don't think anything ever will.

Swallowing hard, you choose to forget that which is best not to be pondered over. Turning the shirt Yoongi found for you, you slowly unbutton your own, pulling it out of the plaid skirt you've garnered today. You're thankful Yoongi has managed to find you a similar shirt to the one you brought in today. A white button-up that reminds you of the 19th century. Something a high-class man would wear to a gala per se. You smirk at the ruffles at the end of your sleeves and try to avoid your reflection in the mirror as you pull it on over your bra.

The only thing you would see would be another daily dose of self-deprecation and hatred.

You'd rather stop before it started.

Once the shirt is buttoned and tucked safely in your skirt, a few small touches added by you in order to fit your look, you look at your reflection and smile faintly. For a man's shirt, it fits your frame quite snugly. You wonder who exactly it belongs to, but figure you could just ask Yoongi later.

This should do nicely.

Smiling weakly in satisfaction, you turn to the door and open it.

You weren't expecting to see a very fatigued Yoongi leaning against the wall right next to the entrance. So you'd say your reaction was justified.

He would probably think otherwise.

At your shriek, he jumps halfway out of the air before turning to you in surprise.

"What the hell was that?!" He cries, and your eyes widen in ignorance.

"Me?! What about you? I thought you were going back to the dressing room!"

"Well, I--" he breaks off, finding nothing to say, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. Swallowing hard, he turns his face away from you. "You were taking too long."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

Sorry, but I didn't think I was on a time clock.

"Besides, I didn't trust you to get there on your own." He explains, turning back to you with a scowl. You narrow your eyes at him yourself before noticing the slight rosy hue to his cheeks.

Is he...embarrassed?

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head before brushing past you and heading back the way you came.

"Let's go."

You stand there in stunned silence before turning to his retreating figure. Smirking a bit to yourself, you scoff in disbelief before jogging to catch up to him. You want to thank him for his help, but as the two of you head back, you find it hard to start a conversation with him.

Biting the inside of your cheek you turn to him, trying to study his expression.

He definitely has some sort of hidden animosity towards you even though the two of you have never met before now. However, he doesn't seem to hate you. He's been kind to you so far. In his own...weird way. But if he doesn't hate you then what's the reason for his behavior? Sometimes he seems perfectly fine, and then others he seems to be incredibly angry by your presence.

Then again...your presence is sort of foreign to him.

Maybe he just needs time warming up?

"She's hardly qualified."

Or maybe...

He knows you don't belong here.

"Do you need something?"

Jolting back to reality, you blink and find Yoongi to be regarding you with a perplexed gaze. Quickly, you snatch your eyes away and laugh nervously. You hadn't realized you were gawking at him this whole time.

"No, it's nothing..."

His expression changes as soon as you look away, darkens into something nearly unrecognizable. Turning away, he swallows hard, as though holding himself back. You, however, find this as a perfect outlet to start a conversation.

"I was just...wondering...W-why are you doing the shoot here?"

He shrugs, trying to avoid your gaze as much as possible.

"It's more convenient this way. Does the shirt fit?"

"Hm? Oh! Uhm, yes it does. Thank you."

He nods in response.

"Good, that was Enhypen's dressing room. They hardly use it other than the times they visit our company for shoots and such. Sunoo has a smaller build than most in our company so I thought it'd work best for you." He examines the shirt on you, and you can't help but blush, half wondering if you should cover-up. "Hm. It's tight in some areas but definitely better than wearing something like Jimin's."

You blush profusely at the comment and cross your arms around your chest. You have half a mind to smack him right then and there, but as a group of employees pass by you, you're forced to hold back. He smirks in satisfaction at your reaction, and you scowl.

"I see...thank you." You mutter between gritted teeth. He doesn't respond, just continues to smile that smug smile. Turning the corner, you find yourself in another realm of silence, but this time you don't really have the urge to talk to him.

He on the other hand...

"Has BangPD talked to you yet?"

Your ears perk at that and you turn to him, shocked.

How did he...

"I'm sorry?"

"About being a trainee." He replies with that debonair air about him. Swallowing hard, it takes you a while to respond.

“How did you know?” He gives a look at the ambiguous answer, but you meet it as an equally indignant one. You feel as though you have a right to know, and you won’t answer him so easily about something you weren’t aware he even knew about. Sighing when it’s clear you won’t give in as easily as he thought, he answers you.

“BangPD met with us to discuss your training.”

“‘Us?’ You mean...”

“Yes, BTS. He said as shareholders of the company, it was only right for us to know he was considering training you. He wanted our opinion.”

In short, they were deciding your life before you even had a chance to decide.

You don’t know why, but the thought puts a sick feeling in your stomach. The fact that a group of people were discussing whether or not to trust you, to accept you without even half of them getting a chance to know you or your abilities...Who gave them the right to decide that? Who gave them the right to take control of your future?

And what if you say yes? Do they even want you to succeed? What if they do? What if saying no let down their expectations? Why weren’t you told about this? Why weren’t you a part of the conversation?

Was it really too much of a risk?

"So?" He prompts before pausing in front of an elevator door and pressing the up button to the dressing room. "What did you say?"

You give him a look, hoping that will let him know that you don't want to talk about this anymore, but he doesn't seem to care. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't know what to say.

Does he think that this is an easy decision? There are things to consider, your future to think about, people who could be affected...

But really, what is there to consider?

You don't have anything to lose, not really.

And this is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

You know why.

At the soft ding of the elevator arriving, you break eye contact and turn as the doors open. Stepping inside, you watch the doors slide shut before answering him.

"He told me to think about it."

Yoongi scoffs at the answer, biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He knew it'd be like this.

"What's there to think about?" At the question, you flinch but refuse to meet his eyes. "It's a yes or no question."

You bite your lip furiously, at war with yourself.

It's not like he's wrong but...

Yoongi glances at her from the corner of his eye and wonders what exactly everyone sees in her. He wonders what makes her so special. From what he's seen, she's incredibly ordinary. Sure she has a beautiful voice, her face is nice, but she can stand to lose a few pounds especially if she wants to be an idol.

Does she even want to be a performer?

There are so many others who have tried their whole life just to be considered for what they're offering here, and what?

It's too hard of a decision?

Animosity growing like a drug, he scoffs turning away.

"I was against it, you know." You turn to him, a bit confused at the statement. He sighs before continuing, a bit piqued at your behavior. "Your contract. I didn't want you to be considered as a trainee."

You should feel surprised. You should feel wronged, angry. But you feel none of those things. Instead, you understand him.

Smiling a bit bitterly, you turn back to the metal doors.

"I see." You reply, and he turns to you in confusion.

"You're not mad?" You shrug before turning to him.

"Why would I be?" He scoffs at the reply.

"Most would feel offended."

"Well, I'm not. In fact, I'm grateful."

Surprised, he turns to you. "Why?"

"At least you didn't lie or cover it up." You explain matter of factly and he shakes his head at you in disbelief as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival.

"It would've been better if I had." He mutters half to himself as the two of you depart, bowing politely to a few employees waiting to board the elevator. You shrug at the statement before glancing his way.

"Well, maybe I don't like people who beat around the bush."

He can't help but feel a bit stunned as he watches you walk a few steps ahead of him. He can't help but feel that he'll always be a few steps behind you. Shaking the feeling away, he peers your way.

"Are you scared?"

"Of what?"

"Debuting."

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer. Biting your bottom lip in concentration you consider the question.

Are you scared to debut?

"Yes."

Who wouldn't be after all? It's scary not knowing if the public will view you positively or immediately cast you aside. It's scary not knowing whether or not your dream will be achieved, whether or not you'll make it.

"Is that why you're hesitating?"

Spying the dressing room a few feet away, you shake your head at his question before replying.

"No."

You can deal with that fear...but what you're even more afraid of is betrayal.

Like what happened last time.

Yoongi stares at you for a moment and watches as you get that faraway look in your eye, the same look that tells him you're not really here. When the two of you reach the dressing room once again, he can't help but pause a few feet away from you. He has the sudden urge just to look at you, maybe then he'd be able to understand.

"You're not what I thought you were." He mutters, not sure if you can hear him, but at your smile, he knows you never stopped listening. You smile at him over your shoulder.

"I guess I don't like beating around the bush either."

𝔞/𝔫: i feel like this offers a lot of background to yen's past...which may be revealed soon

chapter 31 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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blindingdutchy · 3 years

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lamentation | ONE

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 2,725

warnings: thoughts of suicide! unsuccessful attempt! depression, grief, angst

18+!!! minors stay away! TRIGGER WARNING.

Nothing made sense anymore. The world was upside down, all messed up, and you were hanging by a thread. How could it have been a year since the incident? How could you be okay with being older than her now?

Grief is something that nobody expects to be easy, but you never expected it to be quite so hard. Every day people promised that tomorrow would be better, but it never was. It never got better. It never got easier. You were fairly sure it never would, because if it still hurt this bad after thirteen months, twenty-two days, and six hours, how could one more hour, day, month, or year bring any sort of respite?

It couldn't. It wouldn't. Sometimes you wondered if this was your punishment. Maybe you felt this way because you deserved to, because you had earned a life time of suffering when you let her die. Sure, big sisters are supposed to look out for little sisters, but at the cost of their life? That couldn't go unpunished.

Every day was the same since she died. Wake up, wish you hadn't, feel everything and nothing all at once, and go to sleep. It was a strange and horrible existence; people weren't meant to feel so many big things at the same time. The guilt, the shame, the anguish, the longing... it consumed every part of you like a black hole until you were left with nothing. Until you felt nothing, thought nothing, you were nothing.

They were all the same until today. It was your birthday, your eighteenth birthday to be exact, and for once that ever present black hole in your chest was gone. Instead of waking up to the constant weight of all those heavy emotions on your shoulders, you woke up with the familiar numb emptiness you felt at the end of every day.

There weren't words to describe how much that terrified you. Every single day since your sister died, you'd wished endlessly for those painful feelings to go away. You'd begged for relief, for peace, and you'd taken solace in the hollow of the evenings. Waking up already vacant and listless did not bring the comfort you dreamed of.

You were officially older than her. You'd finally reached that first milestone she'd never reach, and the thought of it punched a hole in your chest so large you wondered if there was anything left of you at all. It wasn't fair--how could you celebrate the big ticket birthday she'd yearned for so anxiously? You couldn't.

You didn't deserve to celebrate. You didn't deserve to achieve all those goals she never had the chance to. You didn't deserve to live through all the years, experiences, moments that she never would. You didn't deserve to live.

It was all your fault, after all. It was your fault that she was there that day, it was your fault she lingered behind, and it was your fault she died. If you'd just gone shopping like she'd asked instead of insisting on going to the park, she'd still be here. If you hadn't frozen like an idiot, she'd still be here.

With a mind swimming with all the reasons everything would be better if you just weren't around anymore, you snuck out of your bedroom window. It was finally dark outside; you'd managed to make it through the day for your parents. But, with the day over, you couldn't hold on any longer.

The letter you'd written for your parents to find was tucked under your pillow, and with one final glance around the bedroom you used to share with your sister, you made peace with your life. This was for the best. Everyone would be so much better off if it had been you instead of her, and now you were going to make things right. It wouldn't bring her back, but at least you wouldn't be there as a reminder of what should have been.

As ready as you were, you didn't really have a plan. There were a million possibilities as far as how you could execute your desires, but none of them seemed right. It had to be fast, though, and something that didn't require much work. If it took effort, conscious thought and execution, you wouldn't follow through. You'd learned that the last time.

That was how you ended up on the roof of one of the more swanky apartment complexes. It was a tall building, taller than those surrounding it, and a fall from that height would surely do the trick. Strangely, the moment your feet dangled over the ledge with your bottom firmly planted in place, your mind went blank.

All those thoughts of the stress and pain you caused went silent, and you finally could breathe. With a deep exhale, your body relaxed for the first time since the incident; you didn't feel any of the bad things anymore. There was no pain, no grief, no sadness, nor were there any of those empty or numb feelings. You just felt peace.

The peace was short lived as you looked down to the street far below, though. This was it, this was the end, and suddenly your mind was racing with all the what if's. What if it could get better? What if it didn't work? What if this made everything worse? What if this was a mistake?

What if, what if, what if, "Whatever, just shut up." you gasped, clutching your head in your hands to keep it from spinning. "Get it together, (Y/N), this is the right thing to do."

Pulling out the letter you'd written to your sister, you opened it and cried for the first time in months. You'd long ago stopped crying; despite how many horrible things you'd been feeling, the tears just never came. But reading the words you'd written to her, thinking of her as you came to terms with your decision to join her, it was as if a metaphorical flood gate opened.

Thirteen months, twenty-two days, and seven hours. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't do it, do anything, anymore; you just needed to rest. The clock was running out, and your time was up.

"You can do this." you whispered, "For once in your life, do something right."

With shaky hands and weak knees, you scrambled up onto your feet and stood atop the ledge. You weren't that tall, but somehow the new perspective made the drop look so much longer and your stomach heaved with fright. Sobbing, you stumbled back to your knees and threw up the little bit of cake you'd forced yourself to eat earlier that evening.

You wiped the sick from your mouth and stood up again, this time with panting gasps for air and knees that shook so violently you feared you might fall before you were ready to. Maybe that would have been for the best, though, because the longer you looked down the more doubts you had. No one would ever know it was an accident if that were the case.

A sudden noise behind you startled you, and your heart seized in your chest as your knees gave out and you tipped dangerously over the edge. You didn't fall, though, because a sticky substance latched around your arm and dragged you back over until you were laying on the roof. For a moment you just laid there, staring up at the empty sky where the stars were all drowned out by the city lights, and you tried hard to figure out what had just happened.

"Are you okay? Oh--oh my god, are you hurt? What were you thinking? Shit, oh shit, Karen, what do I do?" A masked head leaned over your face, blocking the starless sky from your view, and all the feelings came flooding back like a tsunami. "Um, can you hear me?"

One feeling stood out against the current, and your body tensed as you were overcome with seething, white hot rage. An anger like you'd never felt before; you were furious. How dare he stop you? How dare he ruin everything?

It was Spiderman, the friendly neighborhood hero who'd been gallivanting around Queens for some time now, and that made you even angrier. Spiderman was one of them, one of the ridiculous superheroes who'd killed your sister without a single care in the world. He was one of them, and he'd just stopped you from finally fixing everything they had ruined.

You stood so fast you nearly threw up again, but you swallowed the bile down and hissed, "You should have let me fall. I wanted to fall."

Spiderman pulled you back with a firm grip on the web that was still wrapped around your arm, stopping you in your tracks as you stomped back toward the ledge. "Hey, stop! I'm not going to let you do this." he shouted, but his voice was more nervous than commanding.

"Get out of here, Spiderman. You're not saving the day by stopping me, okay?" you snapped fiercely. No matter how hard you pulled against the webbing holding you back, you couldn't break free. It didn't budge when you pulled at it, clawed at it, or even pried it. "What the hell is this shit?"

He pulled you in further, and you stumbled over your feet as you tried to keep your distance. "I'm not going to let you do this. You don't need to do this." he repeated, this time more firmly.

For a moment you were silent, studying the masked hero as he stared back at you with a hidden face. "You don't even know me. Why do you care?" you tried again, but your voice was softer, more fragile. The numbness was creeping back in again and you knew that you wouldn't be able to follow through anymore, even if he let you go.

"I do know you, (Y/N), and you don't need to do this. We can--I can help you. Let me help you."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. How the hell did he know your name? Did you know him? Even though your mind was running wild with unanswered questions, you seethed, "You can't help me. Unless you can go back in time and kill me instead of my sister, you can't fucking help me."

The eyes of his mask widened at your shout, and he stammered, "I--no, I can't do that, but I can help you. I can be your friend, you... you can talk to me. I know what it's like to lose someone, (Y/N)."

You scoffed, "Do you know what it's like to watch a family member die right in front of you? Do you know what it's like to see someone get killed, and it's all your fault? You can't help me!"

"I do, actually." he stated.

Your entire body slumped at the revelation, the anger leaving you as the numbness finally took over completely. It was silent for a few long moments as you cried noiselessly, the only sounds being those of your still frantic breathing and the bustling traffic far below. "If you know, then you know why I have to do it." you whimpered.

Spiderman dropped the web keeping you in place as you collapsed onto your butt, your legs too weak to support you anymore from exhaustion. "I know why you think you have to, but I also know why you're wrong. This isn't the answer." he responded, tentatively taking a few steps closer to you.

You didn't respond, looking up at him as you wiped your cheeks and nose weakly, and he took the chance to continue, "I'm going to make you a deal. I'm going to take my mask off and show you who I am. If you still want to do it after, fine, but at least you'll know who will be blaming themselves afterwards."

True to his word, his fingers creeped under the edge of his mask as he stared you down intensely. Your breath faltered as you watched, completely still as you realized he was serious. Spiderman was going to reveal his identity to you, and you knew that once he did it was game over. As much as you felt the world would be better off without you, you couldn't bare the thought of leaving someone behind to feel the way that you did.

So, stubbornly, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly and refused to look. "I'll wait here all night if I have to. Besides, I could just say my name, you know. I'm pretty sure you know me too."

"Don't." you pleaded.

"Open your eyes, (Y/N). You want this, right? Knowing who I am shouldn't change anything, then." he urged, his tone soft despite his harsh words. "It's Peter. Peter Parker. I've sat behind you in at least two classes since freshman year, and I've lent you pencils before. You always give them back, and you always let Flash copy your homework even though he's a total dick to you. You--"

Your eyes snapped open as you cut him off, "Stop! Just because you know things about me doesn't mean you know me."

It really was Peter Parker, and the numbness faded a little to make room for anxiety and guilt. You knew Peter had lost too much in his life; his parents and his uncle, too. Could you add your name to that list? Could you jump when you knew he'd blame himself for the rest of his life?

You couldn't. You wouldn't. Peter's brown eyes were filled with worry and sadness as he studied you, his mask clutched tightly in his fist. When you remained silent, he sat down and spoke quietly, "I know enough to know the world would suck without you. I could be your friend, you know, you don't have to do this alone."

"I don't need friends." you huffed.

Peter frowned briefly, before rubbing his nose and hiding it again. "I did just tell you my biggest secret, (Y/N), so I think we kind of have to be friends now." he finally rebutted, a faint twinge of humor in his voice, "You might not want friends, but you do need one. I'll be your friend."

You stared back at Peter blankly, uncaring as he shifted uncomfortably in your silence. Why did he want to be your friend? He already got what he wanted. You weren't going to go through with your plan, and he wouldn't have to live with guilt like you did every day. So, why was he still here?

Part of you wanted to believe he really cared, because he seemed to pay a lot of attention to you to notice the little things you did, but you knew better. He didn't really care about you. He only cared that you knew his secret and now you had leverage over him. You could out him if you wanted to, and that meant he had to keep tabs on you.

"I don't need friends." you repeated stiffly, "Don't worry, Parker. Your secret is safe with me."

His eyes widened as he stammered, "That's not--"

"Save it, Peter. Can you please just get this shit off of me so I can go home? I want to go to bed." you cut him off with a deep sigh, gesturing to the web that was still hanging from your arm.

He looked like he wanted to argue, to further plead his case, but after a few moments he visibly wilted and gave in. "It'll dissolve in two hours. I'll... I'll see you at school, (Y/N)."

It was a statement, but it sounded more like a question. You knew he was still hesitant to let you out of his sight, fearful that you'd go back on your word and follow through, and this was his way of confirming you wouldn't do just that. Achingly stretching up off the ground, you muttered, "Yeah. Bye, Peter."

Peter tugged his mask back over his head, but didn't make any move to leave until you were opening the door that lead back into the building. As you stepped through the threshold he gave a forlorn wave, before jumping over the ledge and swinging away. The door shut behind you as the weight of the world settled on your shoulders once again. You'd failed, like always.

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