"Peter?"

You crack the door open just enough to peek inside, hesitating before stepping in. He’s hunched over his desk, the glow of his laptop casting shadows across his tired face. He’s been busy lately—too busy. But you push that thought aside and take a breath.

"Can you help me with my homework?"

Your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to, and for a second, you think he might not have heard you. But then Peter turns in his chair, blinking like he’s just realizing you’re there. His brows knit together, and he shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh. Uh—yeah, of course. What’s up?"

You hesitate, gripping your notebook a little tighter. You don’t want to sound needy, but the truth is, it’s been a while since you’ve really spent time with him. Lately, it feels like you’re just background noise in his life—something he used to pay attention to before he got too busy saving the world.

"It’s just math," you say, trying to sound casual. "But, y’know… it’s kinda hard when your brain doesn’t work like a supercomputer."

You mean it as a joke, but Peter flinches, guilt flashing across his face. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, like he’s not sure what to say. Because he knows. He knows he’s been distant, missing dinners, breaking promises, always rushing off with some half-baked excuse. And now, here you are, standing in his doorway, asking for help with something simple—because maybe schoolwork is the only excuse you have left to talk to him.

"Hey," Peter says softly, gesturing for you to come in. "I got you, okay? Let’s figure it out together."

And just like that, the tension in your chest eases—just a little. Because for once, Peter is here. And right now, that’s enough.