The vitriol is expected, the bitterness acrid and sharp. Peter remembers this period in his own grief - he wouldn't say he's over it himself, not by a longshot - but the fact remains that Gwen is younger than him. This happened more recently for her, and the idea that it was fated, that it was unavoidable is not a pleasant one to contemplate amidst the ocean of everything else they have to work through.
"...Gwen," Peter starts after a beat, his own tone gentle, just absorbing the anger, the rage. It's expected, too, with his comment - not that it makes it any less true. "I never said it wasn't important. That...he wasn't important. I know he is."
He's not sure if Gwen's Peter was to her what his Gwen was to him, but at the very least, they were the best of friends. The kind of love and friendship that doesn't come around often, the kind that aches forever in the aftermath. He told his Gwen once that she was his path, that he chose her above everything else, and truth be told - he's been fumbling in the dark ever since.
"I'm sorry." This part is new, this part does not match his story, and maybe (not maybe, yes, Peter), he's the idiot for having assumed it would be the same. The difference knots a frown into his brow, even as Gwen turns away and starts to cry. God, Peter, is your foot in mouth syndrome terminal? "That's - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - that's not, ah, what I thought would have...happened."
Assuming makes an ass of everyone, Pete. He hesitates a moment before reaching out to touch Gwen's shoulder; he's no Aunt May at this, but it's an offering of support, whether or not she turns away from him. He exhales slowly in the beat of tense silence for a moment, thumb brushing against her shoulder, the raised lines of her own handmade costume. "I'm gonna say this and you're going to disagree, probably, but I doubt that's new, for us. It's not your fault, and it's...it's not his fault, either. I didn't mean to imply that it was or - or that it didn't matter. It was an accident, Gwen, our strength is - it's dangerous, and you couldn't have known."
"That serum..." That much, Peter's reasonably sure is the same. Probably. "The Lizard? He wasn't going to stop, he couldn't stop. If he were himself...he would have wanted you to stop him."
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"...Gwen," Peter starts after a beat, his own tone gentle, just absorbing the anger, the rage. It's expected, too, with his comment - not that it makes it any less true. "I never said it wasn't important. That...he wasn't important. I know he is."
He's not sure if Gwen's Peter was to her what his Gwen was to him, but at the very least, they were the best of friends. The kind of love and friendship that doesn't come around often, the kind that aches forever in the aftermath. He told his Gwen once that she was his path, that he chose her above everything else, and truth be told - he's been fumbling in the dark ever since.
"I'm sorry." This part is new, this part does not match his story, and maybe (not maybe, yes, Peter), he's the idiot for having assumed it would be the same. The difference knots a frown into his brow, even as Gwen turns away and starts to cry. God, Peter, is your foot in mouth syndrome terminal? "That's - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - that's not, ah, what I thought would have...happened."
Assuming makes an ass of everyone, Pete. He hesitates a moment before reaching out to touch Gwen's shoulder; he's no Aunt May at this, but it's an offering of support, whether or not she turns away from him. He exhales slowly in the beat of tense silence for a moment, thumb brushing against her shoulder, the raised lines of her own handmade costume. "I'm gonna say this and you're going to disagree, probably, but I doubt that's new, for us. It's not your fault, and it's...it's not his fault, either. I didn't mean to imply that it was or - or that it didn't matter. It was an accident, Gwen, our strength is - it's dangerous, and you couldn't have known."
"That serum..." That much, Peter's reasonably sure is the same. Probably. "The Lizard? He wasn't going to stop, he couldn't stop. If he were himself...he would have wanted you to stop him."