The hallway was crowded with noise—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, and laughter echoing off the tiled walls. Peter kept his head low, clutching his books tighter to his chest. He was just trying to make it to Chemistry without another “accidental” shove from him.

But no such luck.

A hard shoulder rammed into Peter’s back, sending his books sprawling across the floor.

“Watch where you’re going, Parker,” your boyfriend sneered, his voice laced with that usual smugness.

Peter knelt down quietly, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he gathered his notes. He was used to this. Too used to it. But what caught him off guard wasn’t the sting of the fall—it was your voice, cutting through the chaos.

“Seriously? What is wrong with you?” you said sharply, stepping between Peter and your boyfriend, eyes flashing with frustration. “He didn’t even do anything.”

Peter’s fingers froze mid-reach. He looked up at you, surprise flickering behind his glasses.

You always noticed him. Always said hi in the halls, always gave him a smile when no one else would. And every time you did, Peter felt that pang in his chest—one he could never admit aloud.

Now you were standing there, in front of him. Protecting him.

He stood slowly, brushing himself off. “It’s fine,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “Not the first time.”

But you weren’t buying it. You turned back to your boyfriend, clearly done with his nonsense.

Peter swallowed hard, heart thudding. Should he say something? Thank you? Joke it off? Maybe this was his chance—to talk to you like he’s always wanted. But what could a guy like him say to someone like you?