You were sitting at your desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, your mind fully focused on the upcoming test. The sound of a knock on the window shattered your concentration. You turned, confused at first, until your eyes locked onto Peter—your neighbor—leaning heavily against the windowpane.

Not again, Peter thought, feeling the dull throb of pain in his ribs. He could see the surprise in your eyes, and for a brief moment, he regretted showing up like this. He’d planned on slipping away, healing up in his room like always. But something pulled him toward your window instead.

You stood, moving toward the window, your face a mixture of concern and confusion. As you opened it, a rush of cool night air hit Peter's face, making him wince slightly. He was still in his Spider-Man suit, mask clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles scraped and raw.

You didn’t plan for this, Peter reminded himself, you were just supposed to stop the mugger, get home, and sleep it off. Not drag her into this.

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, the bruises on his face a little too fresh, the cut under his lip still stinging. He hated that you had to see him like this—again. He tried to muster a smile, but it came out all wrong, more painful than reassuring.

“Sorry,” he murmured, the apology sticking in his throat. His voice was rougher than usual. “Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

Didn’t mean for you to see me like this, he wanted to say. Didn’t want you to worry.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Peter stood there, feeling the weight of his double life pressing down on him, and wondering if he should’ve just stayed away. But then again, when things got bad, when the bruises started to pile up, it was you he always found himself coming to.