Re: Log, ex-pizza party: Peter P & MJ W
[MJ sniffled quietly against Peter's shirt, listening to the insane chain of events, as told by Peter Parker, and her red brows pulled together. She shook her head against his chest, because none of it made any sense. And who could blame her for crying? This wasn't her ...world. Was that the right word? This wasn't her place. She wasn't the MJ Watson they knew or wanted, and no one—no one but Peter—seemed anything like her friends, like her boyfriend or her boyfriend's dad, or anything, and it had her worried.
What if her mom wasn't her mom?
What if nothing was the same?
What if she had no one?
What if Harry never got better?
Oh God.] No—[She protested, uselessly. Peter's hands were on her, but she knew he'd rather be down there with Gwen. The thought lit inside of her and she knew it was wrong. This was about Harry, not her, but it was there anyway, bright and burning and she felt furious—and helpless.] No, no, no—[She pushed the boy away from her. Not rough. She wasn't strong. But hard enough to break away from his touch.] Why wouldn't you tell me? [There was anger behind the pallor of fear, but it was fractured, more pain than anything and MJ immediately regretted dislodging herself from Pete's arms. It was colder out here, more alone. And it wasn't his fault.
She didn't gravitate back, however. Instead, she crossed her arms across her chest, protectively, and looked at her boots.] What happened to Mr. Osborn?