Chapter 117: I Wish…… Part 2

Night, within the darkness.

The only light reaching my eyes came from my phone screen.

In my apartment bedroom, lying on my bed… I had opened a messaging app.

The recipient was… Peter Parker.
My boyfriend’s name.

…Or was I the only one who thought of him that way?

No. Peter isn’t like that.
He’s not the kind of person who would cheat.

And yet, I—

I can’t believe in myself.
I can’t believe that I’m worthy of being loved by him.

…With trembling fingers, I typed.

"Peter, how was your part-time job today?"

I couldn’t just ask him directly.
"Are you cheating?"
"Do you like someone else?"

If the answer were really "yes," then I—

A small electronic chime, and his reply appeared.

"It was really exhausting."

…Exhausting?
Holding hands with some girl I don’t know… that’s exhausting?

What clouded my chest—was it jealousy, or sorrow?

…The latter.
I’m not conceited enough to call it jealousy.

"What kind of job was it?"

"Daily Bugle. Something about rearranging the office… Jameson was too stingy to call in professionals."

…Rearranging furniture?

"Were you at the Daily Bugle all day?"

"Yeah. I got covered in dust, it was awful."

My fingers froze.
My mouth went dry.

The place where I saw Peter and the location of the Daily Bugle… they were some distance apart.

A lie?

Why?

…With trembling hands, I gripped my phone.

I should ask.
Just ask.

Whether he was with another woman. Whether he was holding someone else’s hand.

With my heart pounding violently… I typed.

"Peter, have you gotten close with any woman lately?"

Ah—ah, no.
I should delete it.

It sounds like I’m doubting him—

"Nope. I’m not popular, you know. The only one I’d call close is you, Michelle."

My hands stopped.
I forgot to blink, even to breathe.

For a moment that felt like an eternity of pain… I exhaled deeply.

"…Peter."

His name spilled out.

Tears fell.

Sadness swirled.

"I…"

I set my phone down beside the pillow and curled up beneath the covers.

"Was I really… that bad?"

My pillow grew damp.
I clutched the teddy bear resting by my pillow tightly to my chest.

"Was I just a troublesome girlfriend…?"

Peter must like someone else.
And to keep me from getting in the way of their meetings… did he lie to me?

"Was I too much of a burden…?"

No.
Peter wouldn’t do that.
He wouldn’t betray me like that.

And yet—why?

I can’t doubt what I saw with my own eyes.
That was reality, without a doubt.

"…U-ugh."

I hugged the stuffed bear tight.
But it didn’t hug me back.

Peter… Peter held me in his arms.

"…Peter."

Clinging to the name, I pressed down on the pain that throbbed in my heart like an open wound.

My body’s wounds, the healing factor would take care of.
But the wounds in my heart… those would never heal.

"Hhh…hic…"

Tears smeared and broke my face apart as I shrank small beneath the blankets.

I was powerless, a tiny, helpless creature.

…My phone started ringing, but I ignored it.

Right now, I was too afraid to face him.
Too afraid to move forward, too afraid to fall back.

I just wanted to stay here, clinging to the role of "girlfriend"… just like this, forever.

Without changing anything, even a little longer.
I wanted to stay by his side.

---

"……What’s going on?"

I stared at the "No Answer" message displayed on my phone. I’d called because I was worried, but maybe she’d already fallen asleep… she didn’t pick up.

"……Michelle."

Her words earlier had sounded as if she suspected me of cheating.

…Cheating?
That’s impossible.

I don’t even have any close female friends besides Michelle. And even if I did, I’d never cheat.

I love her. More than anyone else, she’s the one woman I should prioritize above all. I care about her so much that I’d give up everything just to help her.

And yet—

"……Why?"

Just like I told her, I spent today working part-time at the Daily Bugle. Carrying heavy loads is easy for me, but when Jameson insisted on moving things around repeatedly, down to the last millimeter, I was completely worn out.

After that, I worked until evening… then put on the suit, helped a few people, and now I’m here. I had no time to get close to another woman. Not that I’d even want to.

"……I hope she’s okay."

Being suspected hurt me a little. But more than that, I was worried about Michelle.

She… doesn’t have much self-confidence. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll leave her. …No, if anything, I should be the one worried she’d leave me.

But I don’t let myself think like that. Michelle shows me—clearly—that she loves me, after all.

"……But still."

What about me?

I’ve told Michelle that I love her. And yet… maybe I’ve been keeping her at a bit of a distance.

If she’s feeling lonely because of that…

…Then I—

"……I need to talk to her properly. I have to tell her it’s all just a misunderstanding."

I love her. But if my feelings aren’t reaching her, then what should I do?

How should I let her know?

…Lying in bed, I recalled Michelle’s face.

What I can do—

◇◆◇

"……Michelle?"

"Eh… ah, yes."

Across the desk, the Captain frowned. Just like yesterday, today was another counseling session. After this, I was supposed to have training with Natasha.

And yet, here I was… zoning out like this. That was rude to him.

"I’m sorry, Captain."

When I apologized, the Captain gave a small, troubled look.

"Did something unpleasant happen?"

"…Uh, well, I… yes."

I nodded, but even so, I knew I couldn’t tell the Captain about it. This morning, I’d gotten another call from Peter.

But I was too scared… I couldn’t answer. He’d sent me a message asking, ‘Are you okay?’, but I ignored that too.

I’m awful. Not just in my thoughts—my actions are terrible too.

Even as I hated myself for it, I still couldn’t face him.

Noticing my downcast expression, the Captain spoke up.

"Let’s end the session here for today."

"…Huh?"

The Captain stood, typing something quickly into his tablet.

"You’re not in the right state for training either… so we’ll cancel this afternoon’s training as well."

"W-wait… please, I…"

For such a selfish reason, I was troubling others again. Afraid of that fact, I tried to object and stood up.

But—

"It’s fine. These sessions and trainings are for your sake. If you’re not in good condition, then their priority drops."

"…But…"

"I can tell it’s something you can’t talk about with me, right? I’ve arranged for another instructor… you should talk with them instead."

The Captain forced a smile and lightly patted my shoulder. Overwhelmed with guilt and shame, I lowered my head.

"……I’m sorry."

"You don’t need to apologize. If anything, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help."

Being apologized to in return made me bite my lip. …The Captain left his seat and opened the door.

"Could you wait here a little while? Someone else will be here shortly."

"……Yes."

When the door closed, I sat back down on the chair.

Who was going to come? My head filled with questions as I hugged my own arms tightly.

I gripped so hard that my nails dug into my skin.

I just keep causing trouble for people. Compared to him—someone who dedicates everything to saving others—I…

When I’m alone, I start to hear that accusatory voice inside me.

I’m… I’m… someone worthless.

Scolding myself, wounded by those words, and letting my heart ache.

When people fall into despair, it tends to happen all at once. Bad memories drag along with the negativity, and regrets begin to form.
I should’ve done this differently back then.
Maybe if I’d done that instead…

Such thoughts—

…Footsteps.

Someone was coming. Not just walking—running lightly.

My enhanced hearing told me who that "someone" was.

The door swung open.

"Michelle…!"

"…Gwen."

Standing there was Gwen, sweat still on her skin, clearly from just having finished training. The Captain must have called her. He’d interrupted her training… just to call her here.

Once again, I’d burdened someone.

She looked at my face and was visibly shocked.

"What happened?"

She wasn’t calm—though she tried to act as if she was, sitting down in front of me. The word "worry" was written all over her face.

"…I-it’s nothing serious."

"Of course it is…!"

She cut me off, leaning across the desk with a tense expression.

"We’re past this kind of thing, aren’t we…!?"

"This kind of thing…?"

…Gwen despised it when I kept secrets. Because I once hid from her that I was acting as a villain. She never wanted to feel that way again.

…I gave in and opened my mouth.

That maybe my boyfriend Peter was cheating.

That I’d seen him holding hands with some unknown woman.

And that I’d hidden it until now.

Gwen listened silently, her expression hard. Then, frowning in anger, she spoke.

"…Idiot."

Under the desk, I laced my fingers together. If I said something like this, Gwen would surely—

"Michelle, you’re the idiot."

"…Eh?"

I was wrong. She wasn’t angry at Peter. She was angry at me.

"Sure, I don’t exactly like that Peter guy… but still—"

Gwen folded her arms, glaring in irritation.

"I believe the words he said. Didn’t he tell you he was going to do his best so you could be happy?"

"…Yeah."

"Then that’s the truth."

Her words fell on me like calm guidance.

"Yeah, he’s unreliable, and sometimes I don’t know what to think of him… but he’s not the kind of guy who’d do something like that."

"…Gwen."

I was surprised—Gwen thought more highly of Peter than I’d imagined.

Then, she reached out and gave my head a gentle tap.

"Ugh…"

"If you don’t believe in him, then who will? Why do you always assume he’ll cheat on you?"

"Because I… someone like me—"

I dropped my gaze, ready to let a flood of negative words spill out—

"Honestly!"

This time, she hit me on the head again. Harder.

"Gwen…?"

"Seriously… geez… you still haven’t fixed the root of it, have you?"

Gwen muttered under her breath, then turned her eyes back to me.

"Have you talked to Peter?"

"Uh, um…"

I remembered the missed calls from Peter on my phone. And that I’d ignored them.

"…I haven’t."

"Then meet him. Talk to him face-to-face."

"…But, I—"

"Even if you’re scared, you need to have the courage to face him. Speak honestly, in your own words."

Gwen crossed her arms again and nodded before speaking.

"Do you really think Peter is the kind of guy who’d do that?"

"…No."

"Then you already know the answer, don’t you?"

"…Yeah."

That’s right. Of course.

No matter what I think, Peter isn’t the kind of person who would cheat.

How could I forget something so obvious?

"…Gwen, I’m going to go see Peter."

"Good."

"I’ll see him, and I’ll talk to him properly."

"Yes, do that. That’s the best thing you can do."

I stood up, about to rush out of the room, but turned back toward Gwen.

"…I’m sorry, Gwen. For bothering—"

"Don’t even think that. We’re friends. You’re not a bother."

She gave me a thumbs-up, and I couldn’t help but smile.

"Thank you, Gwen."

With those words of gratitude, I left the consultation room, took the elevator down to the first floor.

I passed the reception desk and stepped outside Avengers Tower.

The sky was clear.

Beneath the bright blue, I took a deep breath in… and exhaled.

Peter should have today off. He’s probably at home.

Ah—right. The phone.

I need to call him back properly.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. My missed calls had gone up by one since this morning.

…I’d really made him worry.

"…Ugh."

I’m sorry, Peter.

I pressed the call button and—

Piroriroriro.

The ringtone.

But not from my phone.

It couldn’t be—because I’d just started dialing.

I turned toward the sound and… right there, in front of Avengers Tower—

"Ah."

Peter was sitting on a bench.

He hadn’t noticed me yet. I saw him scrambling to pull out his phone in a rush.

"Uh—h-hello!? Michelle!? I, um—"

"…Peter, what are you doing here?"

When I called out, Peter looked around—then spotted me by the exit. He hung up and rushed over.

"Well, uh, sorry. I was worried and… I couldn’t help myself, so I came."

There was sweat on his face. Not from fatigue—but from panic.

"I’m sorry, Peter. For not… answering the phone."

"I-it’s fine. I don’t mind that. What matters is—uh…"

Peter hesitated, carefully choosing his words.

"Are you okay?"

What came out wasn’t an accusation, or a demand for answers.

It was just pure concern.

Realizing that, I wanted to scold myself for how I’d acted yesterday and this morning.

"Peter… there’s something I want to talk about."

"Yeah, of course. Say anything, I’ll listen to everything."

He nodded almost too eagerly. I let out a small smile, even as the guilt rose inside me again.

"Can I… come over to your place now?"

"Yeah. If it’s something you can’t say here, then wherever you’re most comfortable works."

He took my hand and began leading me. …And I, nervously, squeezed his hand back.

We held on tightly.

…Why did I let myself doubt him?

Regret stung bitterly, and yet—

In his kindness, I felt my battered heart begin to heal.

Please, don’t notice this shallow shame of mine.

With that desperate wish, I let him lead me by the hand… and we started walking.

---

The room I had visited countless times after losing my memories.

Peter’s room—where I now sat down on the bed.

In my hands was a steaming mug.

My mug, the one kept here for me, filled with hot milk.

He had warmed it up, saying it would help me relax.

I brought it to my lips.

The gentle sweetness and warmth calmed me, if only a little.

As I exhaled, I knew I had to face what I’d done.

"Peter…"

"Mm."

He sat down beside me.

Hands folded on his knees, he stayed by my side and looked at me.

Right now, he was facing me with his whole self.

"Um… you see—"

The words came slowly, one by one.

The anxiety, the fear, the thoughts that had haunted me—I voiced them.

That I had seen him with a woman I didn’t know.
That I had let myself imagine he might abandon me.

Peter listened quietly, sometimes giving a small nod.

And then—

"Michelle."

"…Y-yes."

I shrank back at his voice.

My fear had been nothing but distrust toward him.
From his perspective, it had to be unpleasant to hear.

"First of all… sorry."

"…Eh?"

My heart raced, pounding like a drum. What was he apologizing for?

"For making you feel insecure."

"N-no, um, it’s my fault…"

I hated myself for letting relief slip in so easily.

In the mug, the white milk swirled.

"About that time—you said you saw me with some woman yesterday?"

"…Yeah."

"That probably wasn’t me."

His words made me tilt my head.
Not him?
But I was sure it had been him.
There was no way I’d simply mistaken it—

"I wouldn’t hold another woman’s hand when I have you. So… I need you to trust me on that."

His sincere eyes met mine.

They told me there was nothing for him to be guilty about.
They told me he wanted me to believe in him.

…He wanted me to trust him.

"…Okay. I understand."

The one who hadn’t trusted was me.
It was me who was in the wrong.

What on earth was I thinking?

Peter would never abandon me—no matter what.
I had always known that.

With trembling lips, I forced out the words.

"I’m sorry, Peter."

"No… I should be the one saying that."

"No, I was awful. I let myself… think these things… troubled you… I…"

I shook.
The milk in the mug rippled.

Fear.
Shame.
Weakness.

Pathetic.

I squeezed my eyes shut—and a small tear slipped free.

"Michelle."

Peter called my name—and placed his hand over mine, still holding the mug.

It was firm, and gentle… and comforting.

---

Michelle… has already come to terms with this incident.
She’s convinced it was all just an unfortunate misunderstanding, maybe even some kind of mistake in what she saw.
She trusts me.

Resolved?

…No, not really.
Fundamentally, nothing has been resolved.

"Michelle."

I cover her hand resting on top of the mug.
The moment I touch her, she trembles slightly… but then, little by little, it fades.
She doesn’t pull away, instead letting my hand remain.

"Peter, I—I…"

She’s about to utter words that would only blame herself—

"Michelle, listen to me."

I cut her off.

"I want you to like yourself."

I put my wish into words.

Things turned out this twisted… partly because of my own attitude, maybe. But the biggest reason is her low self-esteem.

Her distrust of herself outweighs her trust in me.

"But I… I just can’t…"

She can’t bring herself to like herself.
She can’t believe in herself.

Because of the atrocities she committed?
Because she survived by killing others, and can’t shake the guilt?

…To not be arrogant, to be modest—those are virtues.
But there’s a limit.

What she’s doing is self-harm of the spirit.
By insulting and wounding herself, she dulls the pain of her guilt.

I know that.

That’s why I have to say it.

"Michelle… you can’t believe in yourself, can you?"

"…Yeah."

"Then—"

If you can’t believe in yourself—

"Then I want you to believe in me, the one who fell in love with you."

I want her to trust me.

"…In you, Peter?"

"It doesn’t have to be just me. Gwen, Harry, Ned… everyone feels the same. We all like you, Michelle. We all want you to be happy."

Michelle doesn’t deny my words.
She’s aware of others’ goodwill.

And the source of that goodwill is—

"People treat you kindly because you’re a good person."

"Me…?"

"That’s right. Wanting to help you, wanting you to be happy—that’s because you’re a good person."

Choosing each word carefully, I meet her frightened eyes.
I don’t look away.
And neither does she.

"Please don’t belittle yourself. The you that we’ve come to love—trust her, even just a little. Learn to love her, even just a little."

"…Peter."

When I say that… Michelle frowns slightly, parts her lips then closes them again, averts her gaze… then brings it back.

"…I’m sorry."

"Michelle…"

Was it no good, after all—?

"And… thank you."

No… maybe I can let myself hope, just a little.

"…Michelle."

"I know… I’ll be fine now."

Michelle sets the empty mug down on the table.
The trembling in her eyes has stilled, and color has returned to her lips.

She’s back to being the Michelle Jane Watson I know.

"Thank you, Peter. I’ll try my best."

"…I see."

I don’t ask what she means to try.
I already know.

She’s going to try to learn how to love herself.

"I used to feel guilty about everyone’s kindness toward me."

"…Yeah."

"But I’m not going to… feel that way anymore. Or at least, I’ll try not to."

Her low self-esteem runs deep.
But even so, the will to change—it had taken root in her.

Even if she’s not there yet, she’s going to make the effort to get there.
And making that effort is worlds apart from not trying at all.

Right now, she’s taken her first step forward.

"I want to learn how to see the kindness I receive… as something I can be a little proud of."

"Yeah, that’s a good thing."

I nodded in affirmation.
Michelle smiled—small, so very small.

"Peter, thank you. For always being there."

"It’s fine. I owe you just as much, Michelle. You’ve helped me too."

Sometimes, at night… when I’m lying alone in the dark… there are moments when I can’t help but feel utterly pathetic.
I don’t have confidence in myself either.

In that way, we’re the same.
You could even say we’re alike.

And yet, the reason I don’t feel crushed by loneliness… is because Michelle is here.
Because she tells me she loves me—her presence stirs up what little self-respect I have and keeps me standing.

…But Michelle, unaware of that, tilted her head.

"But I… I’ve never really done anything to help you, Peter—"

"Just being with me saves me. Just staying by my side like this… makes me feel incredibly happy."

When I said that, Michelle narrowed her eyes.
Her brows softened, her cheeks relaxed… and she smiled.

"I’m happy too, being with you, Peter."

"Yeah… right, I know. Thanks."

"No, it’s me… I’ve always been grateful to you."

We laughed together… and then, both of us let our gazes fall slightly.

For a little while, we stayed like that.
Quietly, just sitting beside each other.

It was only a shabby little apartment room.
And yet, it was filled with happiness.
Overflowing with it.

Time passed—I couldn’t tell how long we stayed that way.

Then Michelle looked at me.
Her face was tense, her expression set with determination.

I waited a moment.
She opened her mouth to speak.

"P-Peter…"

Her voice trembled.

"Why is it that you, um—"

She wasn’t scared.
She looked more embarrassed than anything.

"Why don’t you… sleep with me?"

Don’t…?

Do.
Don’t.

In other words, she meant that.

My heartbeat grew louder.
Her lips seemed to glisten.

Her straightforward appeal held me captive, my eyes unable to leave her.
The blush on her cheeks made my heart jump, but still—

"Because right now… well, we’re both busy, aren’t we?"

"…Peter."

"I mean, I’m not even a college student yet… I can’t take responsibility, so—"

I searched for reasons.
Grasped at excuses not to.

But then—

I looked at Michelle’s face.

She looked sad.
Terribly, painfully sad.

"Ah—"

Of course. That’s what this was.

The reason Michelle came to doubt my feelings… was because I kept rejecting her advances.

She began to question her own appeal—and with that, my affection for her. That alone was enough reason.

I had been hurting her.

I shut my mouth.
Ashamed of myself.

"…Peter?"

Right.
She must have gathered a great deal of courage to approach me like that.

It must have embarrassed her.
It must have taken all her resolve.

She was trying, in her own way, to make me happy.

And yet, I kept running away.

From her feelings.
Without explanation, unilaterally.

I was the worst.

"…I’m sorry, Michelle."

I whispered it, softly.

"But… I won’t run anymore."

"…Peter."

My heart was pounding.
Worries about the future, about responsibility… I set them aside for now.

What I could do, right here and now—

"…Michelle."

—was to show her, firmly, that I loved her.

I laid my hand on her shoulder… and kissed her, as I had so many times before.
But this kiss was different.
My heart was racing—ten times, a hundred times more than usual.

And I knew Michelle felt the same.

Our saliva mixed.
Entwined.

It was the same kiss as always, yet not the same at all.
When our lips parted, a thin thread lingered between them.

"Ah… P-Peter?"

Her cheeks flushed red.
She realized what this kiss meant—what it was leading to.

Her expression stiffened in surprise, as if bracing herself.

I opened my mouth.

"I… Is it okay?"

Stiff with nervousness, I barely managed to get the words out.

"…Y-yeah. Please, Peter."

Michelle gave her consent—

And then—

That day, I held her in my arms.