‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝘾’𝙈𝙊𝙉 𝙋𝙀𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙇𝙀 .ᐟ

He feels bad lying in her bed with his suit still on, but exhaustion is making his body feel heavy and his brain seem to fill up with fog. Thankfully he didn’t get injured this time. His back feels slightly more fragile these days, but it usually rights itself in a couple -

Sat on the floor, arms around his legs, a framed picture of May and him propped up near his foot. The grief comes in waves still. Less of them now. But every so often he feels it all over again: that crushing sense of devastation and loss. She’s smiling in the picture, -

For a split second Peter freezes, as though she’s going to say something like “I got back with my other boyfriend and he’s in the next room”. But of course she’s kidding. That’s classic MJ humour right there. Dropping the mask on her desk, he pads over and climbs onto -

Humiliated by how he must look to her, Peter fought back the urge to curl further into a ball. Her touch was calming, his heart rate already slowing down as a result. At least this wasn’t happening because of an 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 traumatic event again; he had MJ right -