[Elaine]
Peter. He was… well, he was Peter. Brilliant, kind to a fault, usually buried under a pile of textbooks or muttering about webs (still had no idea what that was about). He had this earnest, hopeful look in his eyes one moment, and the next he seemed weighed down by the entire world. And then there were the injuries. The scraped knuckles that never seemed to heal properly, the way he sometimes winced when he moved a certain way, the faint bruises I'd catch a glimpse of under his sleeves. He'd always brush them off with a mumbled excuse about lab accidents or bumping into things.
It worried me. A lot.
I started looking forward to seeing him, to hearing his slightly rambling, incredibly intelligent thoughts, to the rare moments he'd let his guard down enough to crack a truly terrible, yet somehow endearing, pun.
But the distance was always there. Like a wall he hadn't consciously built, but one that kept him just out of reach. He'd be fully present one minute, laughing at my terrible drawing of a black hole, and the next, his eyes would glaze over, and he'd be miles away, tense, preoccupied. He was also chronically late, perpetually rushing, and seemed to vanish into thin air without explanation more often than a ghost. I'd tried asking if everything was okay, but he'd just give me that strained smile and say, "Yeah, just... stuff. You know? Super busy."
I didn't know. But I wanted to.
That's why I'd taken the plunge. The Megalodon 5 premiere was the talk of the campus – a huge, ridiculous action flick everyone was going to see. It felt like the perfect, low-pressure date. A chance to just sit in the dark, share some popcorn, and maybe, just maybe, bring him back.
"Hey, Peter," I'd said, trying to sound casual as we packed up after class. "They're doing midnight screenings of Megalodon 5 this weekend. Kinda dumb, I know, but sometimes dumb action movies are the best. Want to, maybe, go?"
He'd frozen, his backpack halfway slung over his shoulder. His eyes, usually so expressive, became unreadable for a second. "Oh. Wow. Uh..." He stammered, running a hand through his perpetually slightly messy hair. "That's... really cool, Elaine. I... I'm pretty swamped with, uh, lab work and... other stuff."
My heart sank a little, but I forced a smile. "No worries, Peter. Just thought I'd ask." I started to turn away, trying to hide my disappointment.
"Wait!" he'd blurted out. I turned back, surprised. "Swamped, yeah, but... maybe I could rearrange. Which night?"
Hope surged. "Saturday? Midnight?"
He chewed on his lip, eyes darting around as if calculating probabilities only he could see. "Saturday... Midnight..." He let out a breath. "Okay. Yeah. Okay, Elaine. I'd... I'd like that. A lot."
And that was it. He'd agreed. The relief and excitement had been overwhelming. It felt like a small victory.
So here I was, staring at my reflection, adjusting my favourite jacket. I'd tried not to overthink it, aiming for 'effortlessly put-together' rather than 'tried way too hard'. Easier said than done when my palms felt clammy and my stomach was doing acrobatics.
I grabbed my bag and headed out, the crisp night air doing little to calm my nerves. The cinema was a short subway ride away, a bustling hub of pre-movie energy. The plan was to meet outside.
I got there with five minutes to spare. Peter, naturally, arrived ten minutes late, looking flustered and apologetic.
"Elaine! So sorry! There was... uh... a thing! Had to... help someone! With directions!" he puffed out, leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His shirt was slightly untucked, and there was a faint smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. He looked adorable and completely stressed.
My worry flared, but I pushed it down, smiling warmly. "Hey, Peter. Don't worry about it. Glad you made it."
His face relaxed slightly, a genuine, relieved smile finally breaking through. "Me too. Really." He looked me up and down for a second, and his smile widened. "You, uh... you look really nice, Elaine."
My cheeks warmed. "Thanks, Peter. You clean up okay yourself, even with the... dramatic entrance."
He chuckled, finally standing upright. "Yeah, well, that's just how I roll. Always on the move." He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit. "So, Megalodon 5, huh? Ready for some truly terrible science and gratuitous shark bites?"
"Absolutely," I grinned, falling into step beside him as we headed for the ticket counter. "It's practically a scientific study in itself."
Buying snacks was easier. We navigated the crowded lobby, Peter making a surprisingly witty observation about the price of popcorn ("I'm pretty sure they mine this stuff from a rare, movie-theatre-specific gold-plated kernel vein"). His quick wit was one of the things I loved most about him; it could cut through any awkwardness and made even mundane tasks fun.
"Okay, mission critical," he said, eyes scanning the concession stand menu with mock seriousness. "Salty or sweet? The fate of the cinematic experience rests on this choice."
"Both, obviously," I declared, grabbing a ridiculously large bag of popcorn and eyeing the candy selection. "Why limit yourself?"
He laughed, that genuine, slightly breathless laugh that always made my chest feel lighter. "A woman after my own heart. Compromise is for the weak." He grabbed a couple of sugary drinks and a box of something gummy.
As we waited in the queue to get into the theatre, I decided to try and gauge his mood. He was usually so tense, but tonight, he seemed a little more relaxed, albeit still with that underlying restlessness.
"So, directions, huh?" I prompted gently. "Get whoever it was where they needed to go?"
His gaze flickered away for a second. "Uh, yeah. Eventually. Bit of a maze out there, you know? Lots of wrong turns if you're not careful." He gave a small, almost imperceptible wince as he shifted his weight.
My eyes involuntarily dropped to his hands. No obvious bandages tonight, but his knuckles looked a little puffy. Bumping into things, his usual excuse echoed in my mind.
"You okay, Peter?" I asked, keeping my voice light but letting my concern show in my eyes. "You seem a little... keyed up."
"Me? Keyed up?" he scoffed playfully. "Never! This is just my natural state of... enthusiastic anticipation! For... giant sharks! And... the intellectual stimulation of witnessing cinematic history!" He punctuated it with a slightly over-the-top grin.
I smiled back, but the worry didn't dissipate. It never did with Peter. He was like a beautifully complex puzzle box, and I only ever seemed to find pieces, never the key to open it.
We found our seats in the dimly lit theatre, settling in with our hoard of snacks. The trailers started, loud and flashy. It felt nice, just sitting next to him in the quiet anticipation before the main event.
The movie started. Giant, obviously fake shark on screen, explosions, screaming. It was exactly the kind of mindless fun I'd hoped for. I laughed at a particularly egregious piece of dialogue and nudged Peter. He laughed too.
He just seemed to enjoy it. He grinned at the cheesy one-liners, chuckled at the visual gags, and gasped with the rest of the audience at the plot twists. He shared the popcorn without thinking, his hand occasionally brushing mine in the dark, sending a ridiculous jolt through me. At one point, he leaned close to whisper a witty critique of the outrageous acrobatics the shark performed, and his breath tickled my ear, making me giggle quietly.
He was smart, he was funny, he was observant, and tonight, he wasn't distant or guarded. He was just... Peter. A slightly fidgety, intensely focused, seemingly normal Peter Parker enjoying a movie.
When the credits rolled and the lights came up, he blinked, looking slightly disoriented, like he'd just been yanked back from another dimension.
"Wow," he said, stretching. "Okay, yeah, questionable physics confirmed. But that was... that was really good! The effects were amazing, and I liked the character arc, even if it was a little predictable."
"See? I told you," I laughed, standing up.
We walked out into the bustling lobby, chatting easily about the film. His intelligence shone as he dissected plot points and character motivations. He was animated, gesturing with his hands, his tired eyes looking brighter than I'd seen them in ages.
"Honestly, Elaine, thank you for asking me," he said, turning to face me outside the theater doors. "I... I really needed that. Just... a night off."
"Don't mention it, Peter," I said, a genuine warmth spreading through me. "I had a great time."
He nodded, a small, grateful smile on his face.
He hesitated, then did something unexpected. He reached out and gently squeezed my arm. "Really. Thank you."
"Anytime, Peter," I said softly, a hopeful smile playing on my lips.
He lingered for another moment, then seemed to remember himself. "Okay, well. I should probably... uh... head home. Got an early start tomorrow." Another vague excuse, but tonight, I didn't push it.
"Okay. Get some rest, Peter."
"Will do," he said, giving me one last, lingering smile before turning and heading off into the city night.
"Hey, one more thing!" I called out to him. He turned around as I ran towards him. He face was puzzled, probably wondered what I wanted.
"What is it?" He asked before I planted a playful kiss on his cheek. I could see as his cheeks exploded into a red mess as he flustered about.
"Oh...erhhh. I love... you too." He eventually managed to let out.
I giggled before replying, "Goodnight Peter."
"Goodnight Elaine." He responded.
Watching him walk away, I hugged myself, a happy, fluttery feeling mixed with that familiar, persistent tenderness and worry. The date had been a success. More than a success, really. It wasn't just about the movie; it was about seeing him, truly seeing him, for a couple of hours without the weight of whatever mysterious burden he carried. He was funny, smart, kind, and clearly capable of letting go and enjoying himself when he allowed it.
But as he disappeared into the crowd, the concern gnawed at me again. A night off? Off from what? The wincing, the injuries, the secrecy... it was still there, just lurking beneath the surface. I wanted to know what was going on, wanted to help, wanted him to stop looking so goddamn tired and hurt all the time.
Tonight was wonderful. But it didn't erase the questions. It only made me care more about finding the answers. And maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that he might let me get close enough to help him find them. I walked home, a hopeful smile still on my face, the warmth of his hand on my arm a lingering promise in the cool night air.