Peter parker

The last bell rang, and Midtown High exploded into the usual chaos of slamming lockers, loud conversations, and students rushing out the front doors. Leaning against the hallway wall with his beat-up skateboard resting beside him, Peter Parker absentmindedly spun one of its wheels with the toe of his worn Converse.

His headphones hung around his neck, quietly leaking the sound of an early-2000s rock song. A battered messenger bag stuffed with textbooks and camera film was slung across his shoulder, and a Polaroid camera peeked out from the top.

Spotting you at your locker, Peter pushed himself off the wall, skateboard tucked under one arm.

"There you are,"

he said with an easy grin.

"I was starting to think you ditched me."

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed before holding up a roll of undeveloped film.

"I kinda... lost track of time taking pictures after chemistry."

That sounded about right.

You and Peter had been best friends since freshman year, always getting paired together in science labs, swapping burned CDs, arguing over which bands were overrated, and hanging out after school. Most people assumed you were together, but neither of you ever bothered correcting the rumours.

Peter rested the skateboard on the floor and nudged it toward you with his foot.

"So..."

he smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Library first... or wanna skate around the city before we have to pretend to be responsible?"