"Hey, it's Peter! Looks like I'm busy at the moment. Leave a message - later!"

You sighed at the all too familiar sound of Peter's voicemail. You licked your lips when the phone beeped and then took a deep breath.

"Hey," you said, "just... checking in to see when you were coming over. Well, I guess you and Ned decided you had better things to do. Just wish you would have told me." You felt tears in your throat. "I'll see you guys Monday I guess." You ended the message and dropped your phone in your lap, looking around at the food you had prepared.

Peter and Ned had gotten busier than usual, and so when they finally agreed to hang out with you again, you were ecstatic. A movie night was long overdue. They even seemed excited about it - encouraging you to buy chips and dip and appetizers from the freezer. Plus, you had rented all their favorite action movies.

And yet they didn't show up, leaving you with a platter stacked high with buffalo wings and a bowl of taco dip. And the thick feeling of hot tears in your throat, of course.

You slowly started to clean up, moving food from the coffee table to the kitchen. Maybe, you thought, if you moved slow enough, they would show up.

But no one knocked on the door by the time the bowl of dip was covered with plastic wrap or the buffalo wings were in Tupperware in the fridge.

You grabbed a can of Coke and ditched the idea of dinner entirely. Your mom walked in, smiling and glancing around the kitchen for your friends.

"Where are the boys?" she asked.

"They didn't show up," you said, avoiding looking at her so you wouldn't cry.

"Oh, honey-" She shook her head. "Maybe they're just late."

"Two hours late, Mom? I don't think so," you said. Tears were in your eyes now. You walked quickly out of the kitchen and towards your room, praying that she would not follow.

She didn't. You collapsed on your bed, sobbing into the plush of your pillow.

Sometimes it didn't seem worth it to keep up with friends that didn't care. Sometimes you felt like giving it all up - but then you imagined life without them. If you didn't try, they wouldn't make any effort to speak to you. It was up to you to reach out or you would be alone forever.

Not that reaching out was doing you any good nowadays.

...

You went to school with every intention of ignoring Peter and Ned. How long you would actually go through with that, you weren't sure, but it was worth a shot anyway.

When you walked by Peter's locker, Ned was there, leaning in close to Peter's ear. The two looked like they were exchanging secrets.

Secrets you weren't trusted with.

Secrets that didn't include you.

You kept your head down and walked on by, heart physically aching.

"Hey! ___!" Peter called, hand reaching around Ned to stop you.

You felt his fingers brush your shoulder. You flinched.

Peter noticed.

"Hey," he said again, all concerned and sorry. He looked at you with pity as you turned around, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. "We're, uh, sorry for not showing up on Friday."

You shrugged. "S'okay," you said, not sure if it was or not.

"We just feel like you're mad at us," Ned said, frowning. "Something important came up."

"No, I'm not mad," you said. They smiled until you continued. "I just wish I was important enough to, you know, know that you aren't coming ahead of time so I don't sit there for hours thinking that if I just wait a little bit longer, my friends might actually care a little bit and show up."

Your heart was thumping and your face was reddening. You weren't used to snapping at anyone - certainly not your friends.

They stared at you with shocked expressions. You turned around and continued on, heart right back to aching.

They didn't follow you.

...

At lunch, they whispered again.

You were sitting across from them, not holding even a bit of their attention as you moped right in front of them. They were leaning in, heads close together, voices urgent and excited all at the same time.

You shoved your tray away from you, feeling too sick to eat.

Your tray bumped Peter's, causing him to jump a little. He blinked and looked at you for the first time.

"Hey, uh, ___," he said. "We know we let you down Friday, but we'll see you on Saturday, right? For homecoming?"

You lifted your shoulders and dropped them. "Doubt it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ned asked.

"I'm not going," you said simply.

"What?" Peter and Ned asked together.

"You have to go!" Ned exclaimed.

"Why wouldn't you come?" Peter asked.

"No one asked me," you said tiredly, "and I'm not the girl who gets asked. Liz is going with you, Peter, and so that leaves me pretty much alone. And if this Friday is a repeat of last, you two won't stick around with me much anyway." With that, you got up, taking your tray with you.

Peter and Ned watched after you sadly.

Michelle, who was observing quietly over one of her novels, glanced from your back to the two boys. "You guys," she decided, frowning, "are absolutely the worst people on Earth."

...

On the night of homecoming, you decided last minute that you would go.

You didn't dress up in anything besides a skirt and shirt. You touched your face up with some makeup but left everything else the same. You didn't look homecoming ready, but it was better to go than to lay around feeling sorry for yourself.

You walked up to the school late - and when you did, you saw something that you probably shouldn't have.

Ned was standing outside by the buses, pointing a weapon at a guy with another weapon. And Spider-Man was there.

You ran to the scene quiet and gaped. Just as you opened your mouth to call out for Ned, a hand clamped over your mouth and jerked you back. A second later, something hit your head hard and you fell unconscious.

...

You woke up feeling pain in a million places. Most prominently, though, your head was throbbing. You peeled your eyes open, cringing against the brightness of a fluorescent light overhead.

"Oh good, you're up," a voice said.

You started to panic as you remembered what had happened to you. You lifted your head up and saw an older man standing in front of a desk, a friendly smile on his face.

"Don't worry," he said, "our guest will be here momentarily."

Guest?

"Hey!"

Your head whipped around the other way.

Peter?

Walking into the room, hands rolled into fists at his sides, was Spider-Man. And you knew, all at once, that it was Peter.

"Peter," you choked out in disbelief.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. "___," he said. He looked back up at the old man. "Y-You! You let her go right now! Why is she here?"

"I warned you, Pete," he said, shrugging. "I warned you what would happen. It's time for you to face the consequences."

You were still on the ground when a pair of large wings made of sharply cut metal material sliced through pillars and concrete. You gasped, cowering away as Peter dodged the wings.

"Hey, you missed me every time!" he said, hands out.

"I don't think so, Pete," he said, and then the concrete all fell.

On top of Peter.

On top of you.

...

Peter coughed as the dust settled. He blinked away particles of dirt and looked around. With a start, he realized he was pinned.

He pushed and pushed and could not move.

He needed to get out. He needed to stop Liz's dad and protect the city -

He thought of you. You were just a few feet away from him. You were somewhere in this too.

"___!" he called out.

There was no answer and he was stuck without any chance of moving. Panic settled as quickly as the dust.

"Help! Help me!" he screamed desperately. "I'm... my friend and I are stuck down here! I'm down here, I'm stuck - I-I can't move!"

No one answered. No one was around. And you were quiet.

Peter started to fight. You were so quiet. He pushed the rubble with his shoulders, shifting it so he could hold it. He had already let you down so much-

Holding the slab of concrete, he heaved, thinking of you, thinking of making things right-

He was out. Free and relieved, he looked around him, excitement in his chest until he saw you, legs crushed beneath rubble, a puddle of blood around you.

"No," he gasped. He threw the concrete away and ran to you, tripping over rocks and rubble.

When he got to your side, he lifted you up by your shoulders and tapped your cheek.

"Hey," he said. "C'mon, let's go. You're okay now. Let's go."

But you didn't respond. You weren't blinking neither.

"No," he choked, pain surging through him. He shook you, watching with horror as your neck turned and rolled in unnatural positions. "Oh gosh, ___," he cried, fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. "No, no, no-"

For the last time, he had let you down.

...

Peter and Ned stood alongside one another at the funeral. They tried their best to ignore your weeping parents as your closed casket was lowered deep into the dirt, but they couldn't. And the sight of your mother screaming against a damp tissue was going to stick in their brains forever.

Ned grabbed Peter's arm as you were lowered in there completely. He shut his sore eyes tight.

Peter bowed his head, tears threatening to slip. May touched his back, shaking her head as she wiped tears away with a tissue.

As the family members and friends dispersed, Ned and Peter stared at the hole in the dirt, where their best friend would remain.

"I keep thinking of all we could have done differently," Ned choked breathlessly. "We should have told her about Spider-Man and kept her with us. We should have had those movie nights with her."

Peter bit his lip, face contorting as he started to cry. "We let her down, Ned. I let her down."

Ned didn't say anything. There was nothing left to even say.

...

A month and a half later, Peter walked home from school, checking his voicemail. Aunt May had called.

"Hey, sweetie. Looks like I'll be stuck at work a little bit later than usual. I ordered a pizza and it should be there around six. There's some money on my dresser. I'll be home soon. Love you!"

Instead of the voicemail ending with silence, another one started to play.

It was you.

"Hey. Just... checking in to see when you were coming over. Well, I guess you and Ned decided you had better things to do. Just wish you would have told me. I'll see you guys Monday I guess." It ended with a beep.

He felt his heart shatter as another started to play.

"Hey Peter, it's me. I know I said I wasn't coming to homecoming but I guess I am. I don't want things to be weird, but they're going to be. Whatever you're hiding from me, it's cool, I get it. I know I seem mad at you but I'm not. I'm just... disappointed I guess. In you, maybe, but myself, too. I just... love you guys. I know you love me too, but it's easy to forget when stuff like this happens. Ugh. That sounds gross. Well, I'll see you soon. Later."

Peter was crying as he pulled the phone away from his face. He stared at the screen, at the picture of you in the corner.

He missed you terribly, but felt a little easy.

You had forgiven him even when he was the worst to you. Even more than that, you loved him through it, and simply because it was who you were.

He sent a text to Ned.

Hey - I have something to show you. It's from ___. I think it'll help us both out a little bit. See you soon, man.

He played the message again, feeling his heart heal piece by piece.