Peter was getting pissed off with himself. Pissed off with you, even. Not that it was really your fault, he just blamed you, in his head. Too fuckin' pretty. Couldn't help but follow you everywhere, that's what he'd tell himself. Peter barely realised he was doing it half the time, until he'd be stood in the middle of a street he didn't know the name of watching you make another left turn.

He honestly can't even remember how it started, he definitely didn't do this before the two of you started dating. God, it's weird enough now, let alone if you weren't even his partner. Peter doesn't know what comes over him, he just sees you, and his legs start following you. He'll spot your car further down the road and just start driving in that direction. It's only when he snaps out of his daydream that he'll register he hasn't got a clue where he's ended up.

Happiest day of Peter's life was when you told him you'd be his. He could never deny he was obsessed with you, no— that fact Peter would admit went back to even before you were official. Not that he can ever begin to work out exactly why he aimlessly follows you everywhere, his obsession with you might be the closest answer he'd come up with. He was embarrassed half the time, and you didn't even know it was happening. You'd turned your boyfriend into a literal lost puppy, aimlessly following you around and you didn't even realise.

"Peter?" Oh, no... He's been doing it again, hadn't he?

Snapping himself out the daydream, coming back to his senses as your voice rings out across the park he'd found himself in. God, he literally has no clue where he is. How long had he been following you? Could have just been around the corner, could have been the last ten minutes.

"Oh, hi," He mumbles, half smiling as Peter scratches the back of his neck after walking over to reach you. His eyes looking around his surroundings, trying to get any idea of where the hell he's ended up. How is he meant to explain why he's here if he doesn't know where here is? Shit. "Hi, pretty."