He was exhausted.

The city seemed to be quieter lately, his days filled with more old ladies needing directions rather than bank robberies or muggings. The quiet in the city wasn't equating to any calm in his life though. School was ramping up, May was getting more paranoid (and stricter), and it was becoming more difficult to maintain all the relationships in his life. On top of that, he'd had the great idea that he should do some actual work at his "Stark Internship."

It wasn't going to bring him down, because even if life was trying its best to hand his ass to him, he was still putting up a pretty damn good fight. His situation at the moment, however, was that of a teenage boy running off of four hours of sleep, a full day at school, an evening at his internship, and four hours of patrolling.

Thus, the current exhaustion. And the relief that swept through his body when he realized he'd actually managed to get himself to his apartment without passing out mid-swing.

He slipped the window of his room open, and perched himself on it, facing his sleepy neighborhood. He closed his eyes, pushed his mask up the slightest amount, and let the cold air rush over him with the hopes that it would help wake him up a bit. It was already 2 in the morning, and he still needed to finish his Physics assignment that was due in less than seven hours.

"I… think you've got the wrong room?" Called out a tentative voice from behind him.

Peter froze before shoving his mask down and turning his upper body so quickly that he almost fell on the bed behind him. He didn't even need to scan the room for a second to see that it definitely was not his room.

Instead of his bunk bed, a single twin bed was sitting below him. The only light in the room was coming from haphazardly arranged string lights that ran all over. All of the walls were covered in posters and photos, and one photo by the door even happened to have him in it. In fact, not only was this not his room, he knows this room even though he hasn't stepped foot in it for years now.

Of course, of all the windows I could open by mistake, the one that I had to choose belongs to someone that actually knows me!

Sitting at the desk across the room was his neighbor. Not just a neighbor, but Emmeline, the daughter of May's coworker. And not just Emmeline, the daughter of May's coworker, but, Emmy, someone he used to play with when he was younger and still sees around regularly. My freaking luck!

"Well, I don't have my glasses on, but I'm pretty sure you're wearing a red-and-blue unitard..." She was looking at him through squinted, and slightly unfocused eyes, while reaching around for something under her desk. Peter could see that her face was marked with indentations from the spirals of her notebook in front of her. Okay, she seems pretty out of it, maybe I can just hop ba—

Peter startled at the sight in front of him, because Emmy was now holding the handle of an instrument case and positioned ready to swing at him. "So either you're Spider-Man, and you're going to tell me why the hell you're in my room," she started, as she was approaching him with a glare "or you're a creep and I'm going to throw this, and you, out the window and cal—"

He caught her arm mid-swing, and would have been looking at her with wide-eyes if he didn't have the mask on. How can she even reach this far over the bed? She's barely over five feet tall! Despite happening to have superpowers, even Peter didn't feel like falling from a building at 2 in the morning. Karen was saying something to him, but he wasn't processing it. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his body, his heart pumping faster and faster.

Peter you don't —"I'm Spider-Man!" He squeaked out. —have the voice modifier on .

Shit! Why why why why?! This is not happening.

Emmy was squinting at him even harder now. She moved to kneel on the bed completely and grabbed his jaw, using her hand that was still holding her instrument, with a force that probably would have had anyone else falling into the room.

"That voice. You sound really familiar…" Emmy shoved her face closer to him, looking at him so intently that he wouldn't be surprised if she could will his mask away with her stare. He'd forgotten over time how scary she could be. I'll go ahead and switch the modifier on for you, it doesn't look like you're getting out of this easily.

"Oh really?" Peter said, relaxing slightly as he heard his now modified voice come out. "Probably just a coincidence."

"Hmm…" Emmy was still looking at him like she was looking through him, but she dropped her hand off his face and shifted backwards. "Whatever, I guess. You still haven't explained why you're here in my room though."

"You see— well, I was… I was… investigating! I'm looking for… something. Yes, I'm just looking for something and um. Well, it's a classified… operation?" Emmy did not look impressed at all. "And I just, I got your room— I ended up in your room on accident! Did you know they don't put numbers on the outside of apartment buildings?" Great going Peter, if your voice didn't give you away, then your rambling freaking did!

Emmy didn't respond. She was just staring at him again, the squinted glare making its way back onto her face.

God, this isn't going to get any better. I just need to get out of here. "I'm sorry for waking you up and scaring you, I'll get out of your hair now and find, uhh, the thing I'm supposed to investigate!"

Peter gave her a small wave and quickly made his way out of the room. He decided against going straight to his room after looking back mid-swing and seeing Emmy peeking out her window. He ended up going around the neighborhood for another half-hour before making it back to his building (this time, making sure he was entering the right room first).

After taking a quick shower, he threw himself face-first onto his bed to recharge for a bit before tackling his homework. Feeling his phone vibrate somewhere on his bed, he reached around lazily, trying to find the phone without opening his eyes or moving more than his arm. It's probably just Ned talking about whatever show he's bingeing on Netflix anyway.

Finally finding his phone, he rolled onto his back and pulled it up to his face, blearily looking at the preview of the message on his lock screen, before dropping it immediately onto his face. I'm just really tired. I'm sure that's not what I saw.

Peter sat up and rubbed at his eyes before picking his phone back up and opening the full message before really looking at it.

"Fuck. My. Life."

Emmy Cruz (2:54AM): Good night Peter! (: I hope you made it into the right room and found whatever that "something," was!

a/n: title and chapter title comes from 'sweety,' by gfriend (여자친구), which I listened to while writing this. this fic is also cross-posted on ao3