Peter Parker's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

The days after the workshop felt too smooth. Callie remembered him now. She named their first date, the movie they walked out of, the flower he'd broken. But the details came flat, like she was reading them off a card. Peter caught her watching him sometimes, checking his face against something she couldn't quite reach. He couldn't prove she still wanted the life she'd gotten back. He only knew she hadn't asked him to leave. One night she called. "Take me somewhere," she said. "Anywhere. Not the tower." He took her to his aunt's old rooftop. The little building sat weathered and quiet, shingles curling at the edges. He'd come here as a kid. No cameras. No one watching. Callie stepped out onto the roof and wrapped her arms around herself against the wind. "Why here?" she asked. "Because it's mine," Peter said. "Nobody put it in your head. Nobody can take it out." She didn't answer. She crossed the roof and pressed against him, both hands fisting his shirt. She held on the way she had in the workshop, like the ground might tilt. "I keep thinking I'll wake up empty again," she said. Her voice stayed flat, but her grip didn't. "I'll forget the sound of your voice. The dragon. All of it." She pulled tighter. "What if it happens twice?" "It won't." "You can't know that." "No," he said. "But I know I found you the first time. I'd find you again." Her shoulders shook. She buried her face in his chest and didn't lift it. He held her. He didn't fill the quiet. He let her weight settle into him and stayed still, one hand flat on her back. "I remember the facts," she whispered. "I don't always feel them. That scares me more." Peter tipped his head down to hers. "Then don't feel the facts. Feel this." He tightened his arms. "I'm here. I'm real. I love you. Right now, not before. Now." She went quiet for a long moment. Then she started crying, hard, the kind that comes from somewhere deep. She clung harder, fingers digging into him. Peter didn't move. He didn't hush her. He just held on and let her cry it out against him. The wind pulled at them. He stayed. When the shaking finally slowed, she spoke into his shirt. "I do want this," she said. "Not because I remember it. Because I feel it now." She lifted her face. Her eyes were wet and certain. "I choose you. Even scared. Even if I forget. I choose you." Something in Peter's chest finally let go. She hadn't just been handed back the past. She'd picked him standing in it. He kissed the top of her head. "Then we build new ones," he said. "Memories nobody can erase." She nodded against him. The thin, borrowed feeling was gone. What she held now was hers.