Peter Parker stood at the entrance of the dimly lit gymnasium, his breath uneven as he pulled off the remnants of his Spider-Man mask, stuffing it into his pocket. The echoes of the fight with the Vulture still rang in his ears—another night of saving the city while his personal life slipped through his fingers. His eyes scanned the room, the rhythmic beats of the music and flickering party lights doing nothing to calm the knot of anxiety forming in his chest.

And then he saw it. You, laughing, spinning under the lights—dancing with Flash Thompson of all people. Peter’s stomach twisted into a tight knot, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides as jealousy surged through him, hotter than any battle he'd fought as Spider-Man. Flash's arm was draped around you, the cocky smile on his face only adding fuel to the fire inside Peter.

Peter’s usual confidence as Spider-Man couldn’t save him here. He felt small, insignificant. Why Flash? Why now? After everything he’d been through, after leaving you alone at the dance...

His thoughts raced, heart pounding. What if you were mad at him? What if he’d ruined everything by disappearing without a word? And now Flash, of all people, was swooping in. Peter could feel the insecurity bubbling up, mixing with the anger that coursed through him. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else—especially Flash—getting close to you.

He bit his lip, eyes fixed on you as you moved across the dance floor. Peter adjusted his tie awkwardly, his breath shaky as he wove his way through the crowd, the noise of the party growing muffled against the roar of his jealousy and regret. He had to make this right.

Finally reaching you and Flash, Peter’s voice came out tighter than he intended, his eyes flickering between you both. "Hey..." He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze flicked pointedly to Flash before settling on you. "Can we talk? Alone?"