#there’s a masked rapist stalker episode

[theonlylal]

Dear Peter, I’m sorry - A Spideychelle One Shot

Michelle has wrote Peter some love letters and has taken a decision that might change the things between them

Read it on Ao3: (X)

Dear Peter,

I know that I’m never going to send this letter to you, because I’m writing it for myself and not for you. It’s a boring English hour and it’s weird that I’m not enjoying it, because we both know how much I love literature and that I like to outsmart our English teacher.

It’s has a been weird lately in my head, my rational thinking point me to a direction that I’m sure I want to take, but when I sleep my head(I’m not sure I can say that it is my heart) decide otherwise and shows me pictures of what could be if we get together or not.

Some nights I have dreamed how could things been now if you kissed me that night when you walked me home or if I could have changed things and talked to you about us in one of those times when we are alone or when Ned is too busy watching a film or admiring Betty from across the room. Two nights ago I dreamed about you having a girlfriend and, if I remember well, it was Liz and down in my heart I know that I’m not the same kind of girl and that there is no competition between the two of us: she has done that fucking Ted-Talk thing and passed to the nationals before having to move for that thing with you and her father; I know that I’m smart, hell yes that I know, but she has always been this dreamy girl that I know I’m not because I have such a strong opinion and I know that no one will fall for it, not even you. Today I woke up with a clear image in my head and it was you kissing my neck on your couch, like that night last month, when Ned left and I stayed at your place until half past four in the morning, it was both a sweet memory and a damned one, because I know that it wasn’t real and that the things between us are different now thanks to the school and we don’t see each other that much anymore. I woke up and the only thing that my mind could think about was the feeling of your lips on my skin or on my lips; how can a dream feels that real?

My head is playing with me again, now, it’s telling me to ask you “What if we end up together? What if we stop being friends and became lovers? Would it be that bad?”, but I know that I’ll never ask you such things, because all that matters to me now is keeping alive our friendship and enjoy as much of it as I can.

I don’t know what kind of feelings I have for you: is this just a strong friendship? Or is it the beginning of a love relationship? You know that I didn’t had that many friends growing up and this bond that I feel with you is so strong, because we can talk about everything. You are one of the few people that I consider as smart as I am and that don’t bore me as soon as their mouth is open; you are the only person in my life that challenge me academically and we both know that I have a best GPA just because you lose a lot of time going around in that spandex red thing(even if you won’t read this, I’m not going to call you “Spider-Man”).

I wrote down in my stretch book all those episodes between us that blew my mind and in the first moment my mind was free and I could stop thinking about you, but these two dreams have changed everything and now my mind can’t think ant anything but you. I have so many things that I need to ask you and myself but I know that I’m not brave enough when the things that I have to fight for are my feeling and my happiness, because I feel like I don’t deserve you and I feel that if things between us go wrong I’ll lose Ned, too, and I’m not ready to lose both of you in one moment.

So, I’m here asking both you and me these questions: will that sunrise on the rooftop ever stop being that much important to me? Will this feeling grow if we get together? Will it fade with time if nothing happens between the two of us? Right now the line between “love” and “in love” feels so thin and you are the only person that comes to my mind when someone tell me about their significant other. I don’t want to make things faster or easier between us, but it’s been months and every time that we go out you have a particular behavior just for me and I don’t know if this is great or if this is just my mind making up images that it thinks that I need, because some days I feel so lonely and even if we insult each other daily we both know that there is a lot of affection under it(there is a lot on my side and I hope it is the same on yours).

Every time that I know that we’ll be alone I feel the anxiety grow inside me, but as soon as we are alone my hands stop shaking and I can talk to you as I do every time that we are with our friends and I’m not used to this, because you are both the most exciting and the most terrifying thing that ever happened to me. I saw a post on Instagram and it was a simple sentence that stated: “why are you afraid of falling in love?” and it spoke to my soul and all I could thing about was that I’m not scared of falling in love with you, I’m afraid that you are not in love with me and that I’ll lose you over my feelings or that I’ll come across the Big Question™ and I’ll chose our friendship over my feeling for you.

I’m not saying that I like you, I’m just saying that my mind likes to make me think that I like you but I will

 “Are you listening, Miss Jones?” asked the squeaky voice of the English teacher, MJ rose from her thoughts and decided to hide that piece of paper in the same way she was hiding a folder on her phone full of photos of Peter or of the two of them. Michelle replied with a perfect analysis of the principal character of the book that the class was reading; being a book worm had a lot of privileges in the terms of not listening an old teacher speak about an old look on some interesting character.

“Just because you know it doesn’t mean that you can not listen, Michelle” the teacher scolded her, but she wasn’t affected by it because the teacher was kind of obligated to give her high marks because, sometimes, she knew more than that old cat-lady(nothing against the cat-lady habit, because Michelle herself had that plan in mind, maybe with less teacher thing and more journalist thing). While she was going home that day, MJ asked herself a simple question: “Is this worth the pain?”.

 -

 Dear Peter,

It’s been almost a week and my mind wandered a lot and I’m writing to you/me again, because these English lessons are getting more boring as the times go by and I think that maybe Miss Wesley(it always triggered me that her surname is that much similar to “Weasley” but it’s not the same. She is even a fucking redhead, who is she trying to trick? Not me, I know that she is a fucking squib) should retire in some little cottage outside the Big City.

Say something or I’m giving up on you; I’m down to swallow my pride and be the first to say “I love you” but if you don’t give me enough reasons to do so, I’m saying goodbye to everything that we could have been (I  know that these two last lines are a lot similar to the lyrics of “Say Something” by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera, but I’m listening to that song and the words where a lot right for this letter. Yeah, I know that I shouldn’t use my headphones in class, thanks a lot Peter).

It’s been months since that first night when we stayed up until the sunrise to talk about everything and nothing at the same time and we both know that I’m not the kind of girl that goes after someone who doesn’t reciprocate her feelings. Well, we both know that I don’t want to be that kind of girl, because I like my independence more than anything and I refuse to let someone else influence how I feel on a everyday basis. But when I’m alone with my thoughts(or even in a crowded room, it seems, because my mind just won’t shut down and go in “fake listening-real sleeping” mood), I can admit to myself that you have a lot of influence in my life and that sometimes I do something just because I want to talk to you about it or I see something on Instagram or in the streets and I want to text you and read you sarcastic comments.

Ah, your fucking sarcastic comments. Aren’t them what attracted me to you in the first place? You seem so shy in the middle of a crowd, but I’ve listened to you crack that jokes with Ned for months before growing the courage to sit in front of you and not at the opposite end of the table. For God’s sake, I find those stupid jokes funny and I love how you comment the weird things that you see people doing while you are on patrol (yep, I still think that you are a little stalker). Every time that you came home from your “night-shift” and sent me one of those audio about rescuing some girl from a possible rapist(even if you always add that you know that women are capable of defending themselves and I like you a little bit more every time that you remember me that you are a feminist as much as I am) or if you just saved a cat from a tree and the little girl that was the owner thanked you with a kiss on the cheek and you were grateful for the mask for not showing how red you were. God, I love waking up with the notification “Peter Parker sent you an audio message” because I already know that it’ll be filled with things that will make me smile and my day will start a little better.

Yep, I’m even more sure that you’ll never see these two letters, because my heart is fucking out here and I can’t let myself be this much open with anyone. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry because I’m not sure if I want you as a lover.

I’m sorry because I know that our friendship is special and I don’t want to ruin it.

I’m sorry because I’m keeping writing things that you’ll never read.

I’m sorry for having made things weird between us in the last days, I’m confused.

I’m sorry for wanting you to make a move, when I’m afraid to make one.

I’m just sorry.

 Michelle folded that second sheet of paper and put it in the best company of the other one: firstly in her stretch book and, as soon as she was home, in the box where she kept her hair ties, where all things Peter-related where kept: there were those two letters, some drawing of him made by Michelle and some piece of paper full of Peter’s little scribbling of chemical formulas for his Web Fluid or his little drawings of spiders. When the bell ringed the end of the lesson MJ flew out of the class and met Ned and Peter at The Table and joked with them as if she never wrote such words: it was her way of freeing her mind from him and she needed to write to him one last time.

She had promised herself to stop imagining scenes with him as Hers in their future, because it had cause her only pain in the past. She had promised herself to stop trying to organize things to be alone with him, just for them to be not possible and have Ned, or someone else, added at the last moment and leaving her with the mouth dry. She had promised herself that he was a good guy, but that she was not the one still pining over him when he clearly didn’t felt the same for her.

Maybe it took them another four months to get together and even more four for Peter to find that box. Maybe they never got together and Michelle did the right choice at the right moment.

Author’s note: leave a comment or a like and i’ll be very happy