my sweet angel
summary: sometimes life hits too hard, but when it does, you can always rely on peter parker to help you bear the weight.
warnings: a lil angst, but fluff throughout
word count: 1k
author’s note: i think everyone goes through a time in their life that they feel this way, but remember loves, you got this :))))
The first thing you did as you entered your room was slam your door, the sound echoing through the empty house, the house that was soon to be filled with your loud sobs.
You were so damn tired; tired of the pressure that came with school and sports and extracurriculars and the thought of college looming around in the back of your mind constantly. You were tired of life and feeling like there was nothing you could do to change it. And more than anything, you were tired of feeling tired.
You ripped your backpack off your shoulders, throwing it towards your bed carelessly, not even giving it a second glance as it crashed on the floor with a loud thump.
You dropped your pre-calculus textbook in blind fury, the weight landing on your foot, causing you to let out a strangled shriek. You kicked the pages filled with confusing problems, your anger focusing on the inanimate object.
You clutched your converse-clad foot, dropping to the floor as your eyes blurred with oncoming tears. You placed your head in your hands, your body shaking violently due to the overwhelming tide of emotions rolling through you. Your hands travelled upwards, the instinctual reaction of wiping away your pain, not leaving any evidence, a habit by now.
You bit your quivering lip, looking up to the ceiling detailed with yellow stars you put up when you were younger, because you insisted to be able to see the constellations even when you were inside. You smiled lightly at the thought, wishing you could just go back to the age of eight, having not a single worry line etched into your features yet and having all the time in the world to admire the sky. You couldn’t even remember the last time you looked at the real thing.
You licked your newly chapped lips, fanning out your fingers and staring down at you shaky hands. Anxiety racked through your mind, making you feel smaller and smaller as each minute passed.
“Hey, love, I just thought I’d drop b-” the creak of your door and Peter’s voice signaled his arrival, but the moment his eyes landed on you his heart ached and he fell silent. He pushed open your door, falling to his knees and sitting in front of you.
You were surprised by his sudden visit, turning your face away from him, averting your eyes from his caring ones that you mistook for pity. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” you choked out, using your sleeve to wipe away some of the excess of mascara running down your pink-tinted cheeks.
Peter took your face in his hands, turning you to face towards him. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered with the utmost sincerity. “I love you. All of you. And I want to witness all of you; even this side, even though it hurts me so much.”
You just stared back at him, speechless. How could this boy be all yours? This boy filled with an ungodly amount warmth and sweetness? You’d won the lottery, but of course your self-consciousness creeped back in.
“I don’t deserve you,” you replied, ceasing to meet his eyes again. He caressed your cheek, dragging his thumbs under your eyes to clear them of the smudged mascara.
“Y/n,” he spoke softly, “please look at me, my lovely angel.” The pet name peaked your interest, your eyes, brimmed with tears, meeting his. “You deserve the whole damn world.” You were about to protest, parting your lips, but he placed a finger gingerly over them, finishing what his statement. “You’re not allowed to fight me on that.”
Peter smiled gently at you, your mouth curving upwards weakly at the sight. “So, do you want to talk about it?” He asked unsurely, not wanting to force you into doing anything you didn’t feel comfortable with.
“Not really,” you answered, sniffling quietly. He nodded, disappointment splaying over his features, because he wanted to help you figure out whatever it was that made you this feel this way and he couldn’t do that if you didn’t tell him.
You noticed how his shoulders slumped and you took a deep inhale, then exhale, not being able to resist the urge to cure his disappointment. “I’ve been just been down lately,” you explain, running a hand through your tangled hair.
His eyebrows raised as he leaned forward, giving you is undivided attention, humming at your words. “I guess, schoolwork has just gotten really overbearing and I’m so worried about my GPA dropping, but I also want to be able to get rest too. I feel like there’s just not enough hours in a day to do everything I need to.”
Peter nodded understandingly. Every time he put on his suit, he felt that exact way. He wondered how he could find the right balance between being Spider-Man and being Peter Parker, a straight A student and reliable boyfriend. He struggled with stress just as much as you, it’s just that you’d never seen it before, because he also didn’t want you to see him breaking down over it.
“I get it,” he replied, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Sometimes life gets hard and overwhelming, and you think that everything is constantly at stake, but you know what? I’ll always be here, no matter what. God, angel, I love you so much.”
You cherished every single syllable that he said, grinning at how earnest he was. He loved you and there was no way you could feel any doubt returning the feeling.
You leaned forward, your lips barely brushing over his in a chaste kiss, then placing your forehead on his, your breathing syncing up. “If you feel overwhelmed with everything in your life, angel, we could always take a break for a little while,” he suggested, trying not to let his voice break.
This boy loved you so much that he was willing to take a break from the thing in his life he was the most grateful for: your relationship. He was willing to sacrifice his happiness, just to lessen some of your anxiety.
Peter never had a single intention to break up with you the moment he was able to call you his, but that all went away when he thought that it could benefit you.
“No, Peter,” you quickly interrupted him, taking his face in your hands. “You’re what makes it all bearable.”
“Are you sure bec-”