[he knows that when he looks back however long in the future from now that this moment, more than any of the moments they've shared before, will stick out as one in which he realizes just how real things are between them and how deeply the feelings run. peter rests his chin upon her shoulder, arms wrapped around her as his hands join hers about midway through the box, peering at the photos along with her. he takes the journey back through time to each moment held static on glossy photo paper and answers the questions to the best of his ability, details of the oldest photos gone fuzzy over time. that one was when he was seven. this one was at coney island. the other a school field trip.
the one she lingers on the most is naturally one of the ones where mj's presence looms in he periphery. his voice is soft, a little sad, hangs on that yeah like its one of his webs and while he acknowledges that he was happy then, it's clear that the happiness is a little bittersweet. peter swallows the lump in his throat down.
no sense in dwelling on that past though. he's happy now after all.]
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the one she lingers on the most is naturally one of the ones where mj's presence looms in he periphery. his voice is soft, a little sad, hangs on that yeah like its one of his webs and while he acknowledges that he was happy then, it's clear that the happiness is a little bittersweet. peter swallows the lump in his throat down.
no sense in dwelling on that past though. he's happy now after all.]