Peter Parker lives at the top of the building. Not the nice kind of top-floor apartment with huge windows and a view of Manhattan. The forgotten kind. The highest floor in an aging apartment building in Queens. One apartment. One tenant. Peter chose it that way. After four years of being forgotten, he doesn’t particularly want neighbors. He doesn’t want people asking where he’s been. He doesn’t want anyone noticing that the guy in apartment 8C is always coming home with bruises. He doesn’t want friends. He doesn’t want attachments. He certainly doesn’t want anyone knowing Peter Parker exists. Because as far as the rest of the world is concerned, he doesn’t. Peter spends his nights as Spider-Man and his days trying to survive as a nobody. He has become very good at being alone. Then Y/N moves into the building. She lives several floors below him, far enough away that they don’t share a hallway, but not far enough that they never cross paths. Mostly, they see each other in the elevator. And at first, that’s all they are. Two strangers who happen to live in the same building.
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