The Weight of Us ｡ Peter Parker [3]

21 - Onwards to Prague

Peter Parker's hand was warm against my own in the swaying boat under the blanket of stars, comforting and nostalgic. Almost like a song stuck on repeat in the background of your life; whispered melodies and a hummed chorus. A song that was your favourite for months, but was forgotten at some point because life moved on without you realising it. Then at random, that song would appear on the radio in traffic, and you still know every single beat drop and sing along and remember the person you were three months ago, and for two minutes, you're transported back into the past with old memories. Peter was an old song, blurred around the edges but somehow, familiar in every possible way. 

As Agent 47 steered the boat to a halt, right out front of Hotel DeMatteis, Peter slipped his hand from my own to ease towards the cobblestone gracefully, and the sudden coldness against my palm twisted my stomach strangely. I followed him wordlessly, unsure how to untangle my thoughts about tonight and about him. 

"Straight to bed," Elliott pointed at each of us, lips lifting with a snarky smile. "No funny business."

Peter rocked back on his heels, his mask twisted in his hands now. "We're not—" He slid his eyes towards me in the shadows, trying to gather the right words on his tongue. "It's not like that." 

Elliott continued to smile. "Right, suuure."

Standing outside our questionable hotel, a warm breeze on the air, a hot day journeying towards us for tomorrow, with a recovering sleeper agent watching us like she knew all our secrets, Peter felt so far away from me, despite his shoulder only inches away from mine. Under the stars, without his hand in mine, everything felt too clumsy, too flimsy, like we were a boat heading right for the sharp rocks and anything could unfold. My words uttered to Michelle from this afternoon echoed through my head and my guilt felt heavy again. 

"Thank you for the ride back," Peter said stiffly, his bones looking uncomfortable in his own skin. He couldn't even look at me now. "Sorry we couldn't help with you know, stopping the Elementals. Good luck! I'm sure Mr. Beck can handle it."

Elliott gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, it's fine. Fury doesn't do well with rejection, or betrayal in my case, but he's a big boy, he'll get over it." Her hand jerked the boat's wheel to the left, her lips stretching into a bright smile, even though her eyes suggested anything but understanding. "Enjoy your vacation, kiddies." 

When the boat was almost gone from sight, a blip on the dark horizon, I blew air into my cheeks and tucked some hair behind my ears. Peter was staring down at his mask, thoughts clouded. "What a crazy day, huh?" My attempt was weak, but he didn't seem to mind. 

His lips lifted in a tiny smile, not quite real, only coloured to hide his emotions. "Yeah," He jerked his chin towards the hotel, only a few windows lit with lamplight at this hour of the night. "We should get to bed. It's really late and I'm sure Mr. Harrington will be awake soon."

"Yeah," I followed behind him for a second, but thought against it and stopped. "Actually, can we talk for a second?"

Peter turned around, watching me. "What about?"

"What I said to Michelle today, about us being nothing—"

He shook his head. "It's fine."

"Well, it's not fine," I replied, shoving my hands into my blazer's pockets. I could feel the chilled metal of my butterfly knife against my knuckles and resisted the urge to cup it in my palm. "I didn't mean it, I just panicked in the moment because Michelle was staring at me like she suspected something was up, and it just happened. We're not nothing." 

Peter shuffled on his feet, adjusting his weight. His gaze shifted to the lapping water against the cobblestone. "You know, I had a plan to woo you," he whispered, a half laugh in his voice. "I wanted to walk through Paris with you and buy you macarons and tell you why I love you. It sounds silly when I say it out loud."