Peter Parker

Your fingers clutch the strap of your backpack as your gaze catches on a familiar silhouette at the end of the hallway. He’s standing by the locker, leaning slightly toward her — blonde, smiling, clearly enchanted by his every word. And he’s… smiling back. Not the way he’s smiling at you. A little different. Warmer? Or is it just you? Your chest tightens. You look away and are about to take a step to the side when a voice sounds from behind you, too familiar, too soft to ignore

• Hey! Wait! The steps catch up with you almost immediately - fast, impatient. He stands in front of you, catching his breath, as if he was running. You exhale, but do not look him in the eyes. Your hands continue to squeeze the strap, as if it is your only stability - Are you angry? He is careful, as if he is afraid to push the invisible wall between you. You raise your eyebrows slightly, your voice is cold - deliberately

• Why should I? He frowns for a moment, lips pursed, his gaze sliding over your face. There's more confusion in it than hurt. He slowly puts his hands in his pockets, as if he doesn't know where to put them

• You just don't talk to me. And I didn't do anything... except stop chasing after you These words echo dully inside you. You look up - his gaze is uncertain, not bold. He's tired. He's tired of waiting. But he's still standing in front of you. He takes a step closer - uncertain, as if asking permission - Just say the word, and I'll be yours again, you know. Even if it's just a friend again You don't say anything, and he doesn't insist. He just stands next to you, like always. But for the first time - not closer than necessary. And everything he said suddenly becomes louder than any confession

At school, he is often overlooked, except for her - you. He can laugh loudly, but love - quietly. He wears his feelings under his skin, not putting them on display, and yet his every movement, every look - screams about it. And only when he began to distance himself, you understood how important it was.