I Can('t) Handle It

Peter's pov:
It's pretty late already when I decide to leave the tower. I promise Tony, I'll come by a few days later. I'm thinking about Maya. The sky's fading into gold when I finally text her,
Me: Hey. You free later? Want to meet at our usual spot?
She replies after a minute,
Maya: Sure. Usual time?
Me: Yeah

The bridge is quieter than usual when I get there. The wind hits my face, sharp and cold, but not in a bad way. It kind of wakes me up. Maya's already leaning on the railing, hair pulled back in a loose way. She doesn't hear me at first, so I walk up next to her, close enough that our sleeves almost touch. She turns and smiles. "Hey." "Hey," I answer. My voice comes out steadier than I thought it would. We look out over the water, the kind of silence that doesn't need to be filled settling between us. The wind carries the scent of the river and the distant hum of cars, but it all feels far away. Easier. Better. "How've you been?" she asks. I shrug. "Tired. But okay. I guess." She glances sideways, like she wants to ask more, but decides not to. I appreciate that. She's always had this way of giving me space without making it feel like distance. "I like being here with you," I say, quiet enough that it could get lost in the wind. She hears it anyway. She looks at me, eyes searching. Not surprised. Just... still. "I like it too," she replies. We stay like that—just being. And I feel something settle in my chest. Not everything is fixed. But this moment is enough.

Finally, I broke the quiet. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing this whole... thing right," I say, almost to myself, but I can tell she's listening. "Like, I don't know what I'm supposed to feel or do, you know?" Maya stays quiet for a moment, then shifts a little closer, her voice soft. "It's okay to not have it all figured out, Peter. No one does. But you're doing fine. Better than fine." I look at her, something in me shifting. I want to tell her how much that means to me, how much she means to me, but I can't quite find the words. Not yet. Maybe I don't need them. "I don't know what this is," I say quietly. "But I'm glad you're here. I... care about you, Maya. More than I should, probably." Her eyes meet mine, steady and warm. A soft smile tugs at her lips. "I care about you too, Peter," she says, her voice full of that gentle certainty I've come to rely on. "More than I've let myself admit." The space between us feels different now, charged with something new but unspoken. Neither of us pushes for more. We're not quite ready for that. But we're okay. And for now, that's enough. She leans her head against my shoulder. I smile, cherishing this moment.

Hours later, and a lot of talking later, we say goodbye. I go home to May and Tyler, not arguing this time. Tyler is sleeping while May is reading in her room. He's probably drunk as always, but sleeping is better than arguing. "Hi May," I peek into her room. She looks tired, but not the 'after arguing' kind of tired. Just generally tired. And I get that. I feel that. "Hey Peter," she says, her voice a little softer than usual, "you were out late today." "Yeah, I know. Sorry I didn't call," I say, feeling a little guilty. "It's okay. Just wanted to know you were safe." Her words are not a lecture or a demand. Just concern, plain and simple. "Is everything okay?" I ask, a little scared of the answer. May nods, a small smile appearing on her face. "I guess so. He just came home and went to bed," she says. "That's good," I say. And I mean it. I stood there for a second, unsure if I should say more. But May doesn't press, and I think we both understand that sometimes silence says enough. I nod and head up to my room. In my room, it's quiet. No knot in my stomach, no pounding in my head. Just stillness. And it's not scary this time. It's... okay. I sit on the edge of my bed for a while, just thinking. About Maya. About earlier. The way she smiled at me. The way I didn't feel like hiding. For the first time in a while, I don't feel like I'm on the edge of something sharp. The thoughts aren't crowding in like they usually do. The urge to shut down, to disappear, isn't there. I don't feel the need to hurt or to spiral. I just feel... tired. But it's the kind of tired I can sleep with. I change into something comfortable, flick off the light, and crawl under the covers. My eyes close without a fight. No war in my head. No storm in my chest. I think things are going to get better. I really hope so.