Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My entire body trembled like, trembled like- oh who gives a shit! I can’t stop shaking, I can’t stop but I don’t even know if I want to. I pulled my cracked phone from my pocket, ignoring the blood on my hand, I hit the second number listed, he picked up on the first ring. Thank god.

Mr. Stark’s voice came through the phone so light and happy and I’m gonna ruin it like the selfish piece of shit that I am, “hey kiddo, what’s going on?” He asked. I did not mean to let out a sob at the sound of him. Immediately his voice turned serious, pace quickening just a bit, “what’s wrong? Peter, why are you crying? Are you hurt?” How can I tell him that I’m more than hurt? How can I tell him that I can’t recover?

Through my pathetic cries, gasping in breaths, I tried to get out, “da- I- I, sh-” I cut myself off with a sob that wracked my whole body. I’m so weak I can barely get out a single word, how can I be like this? He’ll leave me too if I keep this up… 

He was quick to try to quiet me down, ‘try’ being the key word, “hey, hey, I’m here kid,” no you’re not, no ones here, I’m alone and that’s how it’s meant to be, “I’m here, I’m getting my suit now, I’ll be physically here with you soon, okay? Can you tell me where you are?” His voice was somehow soft yet frantic, so full of love but also worry. I tried to get out the word, just the word ‘hospital’ but I couldn’t even blubber that out. All that sounded were gross whines and whimpers as I cried far too hard to be healthy. 

When all I did was gasp as inhales and cry out as exhales, he kept talking, “I’m in my suit now,” I heard his thrusters sound like proof of his statement, “I’m tracking your phone. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? I won’t hang up, I’m here for you, Pete.” I wish that could be true, I wish I could believe that he’ll actually be here for me, that he can be here and stay. Even if he does fly in to try to save the day like the superhero he is, he can’t fix this. 

Even if he comes here, he’ll be gone in a flash. He’ll leave again, come and go that’s all he does. That’s all anyone does… 

I did not realize he was speaking until his voice got even more panicked, his calm façade completely gone, “-er, Peter, are you with me? Can you say something? Please , kid.”

This time, knowing I wouldn’t be able to say anything even if I wanted to, I just let out yet another whimper as an answer. To my pathetic little sound, he kept talking, “okay kid, that’s okay, you don’t need to talk right now. I’m coming,” he continued these kinds of reassurances while he flew. He kept going on and on about how he’s gonna be here with me and how it’s okay to cry, how I’ll be okay, how he’ll fix everything. And it’s all lies. 

I heard his thrusters coming long before he busted through the hospital doors. And I still stayed curled up on the floor, phone pressed against my ear as sob after sob poured out of me and and god what if they never end? Even when I heard the metal suit open, when I heard him call my name and run over to me, I still didn’t have the energy to raise my head. Even when he kneeled in front of me, saying things my mind wouldn’t register, asking questions I can’t comprehend at the moment, tear after tear still leaked from my eyes. Even when his arms wrapped around me, pulling me onto his lap like a small child, I practically am one at this point , and he held me to his chest, I couldn’t follow his exaggerated breathing. It’s just in and out, in an out, it shouldn’t be so impossible.

All I could do was grip his worn out t-shirt in my hand, using my spider stickiness to selfishly make sure he wouldn’t leave while I sobbed. No matter how many exaggerated breaths or how many times he counted up to three, I could not get more than tiny ineffective gasps of air. But he still held me through each sob. 

When the nurse came forward, I felt Mr. Stark's arms wrapped around hold me tighter, protectively. When she told him the news, I used my hand that wasn’t attached to his shirt to cover my ear, my other ear pressed hard against his chest, please don’t make me hear it again. She’s dead. Aunt May is dead. My last living relative is dead. She’s gone and she’s not coming back. Why must they all keep repeating it? I’m not some stupid four year old anymore, I know what dead actually means this time. 

When the nurse finally left us, Mr. Stark shifted so that one hand rubbed my back and the other ran his fingers through my blood stained hair. How can he hold me so close when my face is covered in tears and snot and my body is covered in my own and Aunt May’s blood?

When I thought maybe I could reduce my sobs to just pitiful cries, I was hit by another pathetic sob. But he still kept whispering reassurances to me as if I’m not absolutely disgusting, “I’m here Pete, I’m not letting you go,” don’t you dare promise me you’ll stay, that’s not a promise anyone can make even in the best intentions , “I’ll take care of you, okay? I won’t let you go… Are you ready to head to the compound?” 

I tried to calm down enough to be able to vocalize a response, but I just couldn’t, I’m too weak to. He seemed to understand my struggle, continuing, “it’s okay if you can’t say anything, a nod or shake of the head is okay. We can leave whenever you want, I told Happy to drive up while I was flying over.” 

No! No, no we can’t drive. We need to go, I need to go, but not by car. I can’t ever go in one of those death vehicles again, I just can’t. Please don’t make me… 

I managed a jerky nod, but at that point I wasn’t even sure what I was saying yes to. I tried to ignore how the nod made my head hurt somehow worse. I couldn’t find it in me to vocalize any of my thoughts. I just knew I needed to get out of there, the combined sobbing, with the injury from the accident, with the stench of blood, with the smell of cleaning products all made my head hurt so bad it’s like I was repeatedly being smashed in the skull with a hammer. Or rather, repeatedly being in the accident again and again and again, like I deserve. Even that would be less pain than this.

With my lame wordless response, he shifted and I immediately took my other hand and clutched his shirt, sticking to him with both hands. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m just getting ready to carry you, I’m not letting you go.” As embarrassing as it is to be carried like a literal baby, I could not care less in the moment as long as he does not make me let go.

Finally, my breathing began to calm down, maybe because I just did not have the energy to continue to hyperventilate. Though I still continued to hiccup, tears still streaming down my bruised face, but not quite as hard. 

He shifted so that one arm was around my back and the other was under my knees. With a groan, he stood up, carrying me like I weigh as little as a doll. Taking me out of the horribly smelling room, all I could do was press my face to his neck when medical personnel kept trying to stop Mr. Stark from leaving with me, but with what I assume was some scary look, he demanded them to let us go. With a promise his lawyers would be by to figure out all the logistics, he brought me outside the hospital, his suit following us. 

Getting to the car, Happy came out of the driver's seat, opening the back door for us since Mr Stark couldn't with his hands full. Seeing the car I couldn’t help my trembling, I fiercely shook my head despite the sharp pain, please please don’t make me go back in there. Please, it’s not safe. I can’t lose another person I love because I’m too weak and stupid to save them. He let out a sigh, “I know you don’t wanna go in there buddy, but it’s the safest way to bring you home. I won’t let anything happen to you.” But I’m not scared about my own safety, I’m scared about his and Happy’s. 

I continued to shake my head, despite it only increasing my headache. Please don’t make me, please please please. 

He let out a deep breath, “kid, the only other option is for me to get in the suit and carry you to the compound.” That, I’ll do that. Anything to keep him away from the car. I nodded into his chest, hoping he understood me. He turned back to Happy, “I’m sorry, we’ll be flying. Thank you for coming anyway though.” Instead of grumbling about wasting his time, he just nodded in understanding before getting back into the overly expensive car. 

Mr. Stark turned to his suit, “I need to put you down for a second,” when I only held him tighter, he went on, “I swear it’ll only be for a second, just so I can get into the suit. I’ll pick you back up right away.” How childish do I have to be to panic over him not holding me for just a few breaths. 

When he tried to place me on the ground, I could not help the whine that escaped me, but he was quick to try to soothe me, “it’s okay, I’m just putting you down so I can get in,” my only response was to let go of him enough so he could get in. The second he was in the Iron Man suit, I was back in his arms, trying to get as close to him as I could even if he was covered in metal. He wrapped his arms around my back, my arms around his neck, legs around his waist. I’m literally holding him like a koala.

I wouldn’t have even needed to use my stickiness to hold on, I was wrapped around him so tightly. That doesn’t mean I didn’t use my stickiness. When we arrived at the compound, we didn’t head to my room or even the common room like I expected. Instead, he brought me to the medbay. Upon noticing my eyes squeezed shut, he commanded Friday to lower the lights, only then was I able to peek my eyes open. He was quick to explain, “I need to check out those wounds of yours, I’m sure you didn’t let the doctors anywhere near you,” he would have chuckled at the last part if I wasn’t still holding him like a baby and sniffling my nose off. 

Landing, I knew what was coming and I could not help gripping him tighter. After a few more reassurances, I reluctantly let him go, only to immediately go back to him for a hug. He did not hesitate to embrace me, he whispered, “kiddo, after I check your wounds we can cuddle all you want, okay? Just let me check you over.” With more than a little reluctance and several reassurances, I pulled back from the embrace. But I still kept one hand attached to his shirt. 

Knowing that’s the best he’ll get out of me, he asked Friday to scan my wounds. “He sustained a mild concussion, has several small cuts over his body, and mild bruising.” With a nod, he began to make his way around his room, me following along like a puppy on a leash. After retrieving whatever it was he needed, I really wasn’t paying attention, he sat me down.

He looked at me and sighed, that’s totally not concerning at all , “I know you’re not going to want to shower right now, so I’m going to wash off your cuts okay?” I tried to give a small nod, but ended up with a wince. He gave me a sympathetic look, continuing on, “After you’re bandaged up, we can go upstairs and watch whatever you want. You need to rest but I can’t let you sleep yet until your concussion is better,” not like I would be able to sleep anyway, I can’t risk being unconscious and Mr. Stark leaving, “I’ll stay with you the whole time, okay?” He promised me. I know better than to believe in promises.

I’m not sure when he filled a bowl with water, I guess I’m more out of it than I thought. He wetted a soft looking washcloth, warning me that it’ll sting before beginning to wash the blood off my face. I could not help but wince when he touched my bruises. When the car hit us, I was so stupid I didn’t even brace myself, letting my head smack into the side window like an idiot. After washing my face, he got to work on trying to get the dried blood out of my hair. 

While he cleaned me like the baby I am, I kept my eyes on him. Looking at his shirt I couldn’t help the pang of guilt in me, I’m sure his outfit cost more than my entire apartment and I got tears, snot, and blood on it. All I do is destroy everything I touch, and yet I still can’t let go of his shirt. Though I did need to alternate which hand was holding his shirt when he wiped the blood of them, only for me to latch back onto his clothes like a lifeline. I think it is at this point. 

Though we both knew it was unnecessary with my speed healing, he still put bandages over my cuts from all the broken glass. He’s always been extra, I guess. He looked me over, before letting out a deep breath, “we need to get you into some new clothes.” But that means I’ll need to leave and yeah I don’t believe in promises but he still did assure me again and again he’ll stay with me and- he cut off my thoughts before I could spiral too much, “I’ll stay with you if you want, I need to change too,” he gave me a small smile but it did little to assure me.

He wrapped an arm around me, and I immediately nuzzled into his side, while he led me to the elevator. We stopped by his room first, him snatching up the first set of clothes he could, before we went to my room. When I made no move to pick anything out, he chose some soft pajamas for me. I shamelessly, okay maybe a bit of shame but whatever , let out a childish whine, knowing I’ll need to be unglued from his side so we could change.

After promising yet again we can cuddle all I want right after, he managed to get me off of him. I changed into my pajamas as quickly as I could, thankfully he changed into his worn out t-shirt and jeans just as quickly. I did not bother to put my phone into my pajama pants pocket, instead leaving them with my dirtied clothes. The second we were both done I was back at his side, this time I looped my finger through his empty belt loop, using that to hold onto him. I let him lead me to his private movie room just for us, usually we only used it after a panic attack or sensory overload but I couldn't help but be thankful for the privacy it gave us. I know it must be so insanely selfish, but right now I want Mr. Stark all to myself. I just… I need him right now, as childish as it must sound. But part of me doesn’t care if I’m being annoyingly clingy and childish, I can’t risk losing him. Not him too.

He helped me onto the cloud like couch, putting a pile of blankets over me while he told Friday to play a happy movie. He kept both arms wrapped around me as I was practically in his lap, trying to get as close to him as possible, as if that will make him stay , while The LEGO Movie played on the large screen. As promised, I spent the rest of the night in his arms, though he did shift so he could gingerly run his fingers through my hair, careful not to agitate my bruises. Though I was as comfortable as I could be, given the situation, I kept myself awake. Being unconscious gives him the chance to leave and I don’t care if I’m selfish, I can’t let him leave, I can’t lose another person I love. 

Only after he was sure my super healing had taken care of my concussion enough to make it safe for me to sleep, did he try to convince me to rest. After my wordless refusal, still too tired to manage anything verbal, he promised, “Petey, I know you’re scared but I’m not going anywhere. I swear  I’ll stay with you all night if you want me to.” Though, I still tried to stay awake as long as I could. But with the lights dimmed even darker, whatever movie playing softly in the background, and Mr. Starks fingers so comforting in my hair, sleep finally got the better of me. But before I could drift off, I made sure to use my stickiness to hold onto his shirt, just in case.

Chapter Text

As promised, I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in. The lights were still dimmed but I did not hear any more movies playing. I did not dare move, not wanting to risk waking Mr. Stark who was still sleeping soundly. It’s strange seeing him sleep, this is the first time I’m seeing it and wow he looks so much more peaceful unconscious. 

I wish I could sleep peacefully, I wish I could say I didn’t hear the endless crash crash crashing of the strangers car against Aunt May’s. I wish I could say that the crack of my head against the side window doesn’t echo through my head, that the image of Aunt May’s bloody body wasn’t seared into my brain. I wish I could say that no matter how much Mr. Stark had washed my hands that I know my aunts blood will never truly leave my hands. 

After a few moments of us laying there, he shifted a bit, I did not mean to tense up. With a groan, he greeted me, “Morning Petey.”  I only managed a yawn in response, making some weird mewling sound in the process. Though I slept for what felt like a while, I was just as exhausted as last night. Thankfully, he did not press me to give a verbal response. Even if I was not so dead tired, pun not intended , I’m not sure if I would have it in me to speak aloud. “You ready to get up?” He asked, smiling at me a bit. Instead of giving a real answer, I just nuzzled my head back into his neck. With a small chuckle, “Kiddie, as adorable you are all cuddly, I need to pee and we both could use a shower.” 

Even though I know he’s right, I could not help but clutch his shirt tighter, hoping he will simply stop caring about hygiene. He shifted again, sitting up straighter so that his back cracked satisfyingly. Reluctantly, I moved off of him, but I still could not bring myself to unhook my finger from his belt loop, still keeping him within arms reach. Maybe he won’t leave me if I’m close enough… but Aunt May was only arms length away and she left. But that was my fault, it’s my fault. 

Mr. Stark stood, and I was pulled along with him. Before we could part ways to our separate rooms to get ready for the day, my mentor pulled me into a hug. I closed my eyes, relishing in his generous comfort. All too soon, he pulled back from the embrace, now leading me to the elevator. Arriving at my floor, he gave me a sympathetic look, “you gotta let go, Pete. I’ll meet you at my private kitchen, okay?” When I still did not let go of his belt loop, he joked, “we can’t quite shower together, kid.” That was what pulled me out of my trance, I need to let go. 

It took far too long, but I dropped my hand, only to find myself balling it in a fist. It’s strange having empty hands after holding on so hard for so long. I meandered by way down to my room, I must look drunk with how unstable I felt. Entering my room, I was met with a wave of pure loneliness. I’m pathetic, I haven’t even been away from Mr. Stark for more than a minute and I already feel like the void in me has grown instantly larger.

I’ve had a void in me ever since I was four years old and Uncle Ben told me that my parents died. Though, at the time I had not fully comprehend what dead was, I knew that there was unmistakably something missing in me. Like a handful of puzzle pieces stolen from me, leaving my picture incomplete. The void only grew, when I held Uncle Ben as he died, it’s like another couple handfuls of pieces were stolen from me. But Aunt May, god Aunt May…  it’s like scissors were taken to my puzzle pieces, making me incapable of being put back together. 

It was not until I heard Friday’s voice that I was pulled from my thoughts, “Would you like me to inform Boss of your distress?” Once I took in what she asked, I frantically shook my head ‘no’, I’ve already been clinging to him like a koala, he doesn’t need me to ruin his only time to himself. Before Friday could insist like Karen always does when I cry or panic about something, I snatched up a sweatshirt, jeans, and pair of boxers. I don’t care if it’s stupid hot this summer, sweatshirts are more comfortable. Lucky for me I already have plenty of clothes here just for me, for the weekends I’d spend here. I hadn’t even thought yesterday to go back to Au- back to the apartment to get my stuff.

How am I ever supposed to go back there, back to my home without her. She’s all I had left, she’s the only family I hadn’t killed off yet. How can I be in the place she worked night and day to rent for us when I stole it all from her? I can’t face those empty rooms, empty of her, see all her things and know she’ll never see them again. I can’t go back there. Mr. Stark said he’d take care of me, but did he just mean yesterday? Legally, doesn’t he have to send me to foster care?

These aren’t questions I can answer no matter how much I worry about them. With a sniff, I wiped away the stray tears that leaked from my probably still red eyes. Everything is always red. tried to distract myself from the inevitable anxiety by preparing to shower. Stripping down, I made sure to avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I may or may not have turned the water temperature in the shower a little too hot. But no matter how much soap I used, no matter how hot the water was, I just could not get my hands to feel clean. Them turning red from the heat and vigorous scrubbing did not help me not think about the blood drip drip dripping from my hands. 

Getting out the shower, even though I felt no cleaner, I distracted myself humming a tune. I could not place what the tune was, but it just felt right . Though I knew I could ask Friday what it was, I did not feel like talking. I could always figure it out later. After using the toilet, I changed into my clothes for the day, not bothering to dry my hair. I put my sweatshirt on as quick as I could, covering my hands with the sleeves. Exiting my room, I headed straight to the elevator, eager to be back with my mentor. 

But when I got out of the elevator, I was met with voices. I paused, curiously getting ahold of me when I recognized it as Mr. Stark and Happy. “I just don’t know,” my mentor's voice sounded, a million emotions swirling in those words. Desperation and frustration and sadness and confusion and such a deep sense of helplessness all rang through so clearly. 

Happy’s voice came through calmer, but no less worried and confused, “what do you mean he isn’t talking? The kid never shuts up.” 

“He hasn’t said a word since he called me yesterday, he hardly even nods or shrugs,” he did not sound quite angry, but more frustrated. Maybe with himself, but I’m no expert, “It takes a few tries to get any response at all, even nonverbal. I don’t know what to do,” the last part came quieter. If I didn’t have my super enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have even heard it. 

I thought I heard someone sigh, but I could not tell who it was. Either way, it was Happy who spoke next, “maybe that’s how he copes.”

Mr. Stark practically snapped at him, “what are you talking about?” Before his voice lowered from its sharp tone, “I’m sorry… I’m just at a loss. I’m a genius and this kid still leaves me dumbfounded.” I bet if I could see them, he was running a hand over his face. All I’m doing is making everything harder for him… he’s better off without me. Everyone is. If it wasn’t for me, Uncle Ben wouldn’t have been on the street that day. And if it wasn’t for me Aunt May wouldn’t have been driving, looking for a less busy parking lot for me to practice driving in.

I’m never stepping foot in another car again.

Happy sounded more patient than I’ve ever heard him, “I’m no expert, Tony, I just know people cope differently,” I could imagine him raising his hands up in defence to my mentor, “maybe since the kid talks so much normally, when he’s in shock and grieving he becomes the opposite and stops talking.” 

There was a pause before Mr. Stark spoke again, “maybe. That makes sense, and it’s not like I have any other ideas,” he paused again, presumably thinking, before continuing talking once again at a lower volume, “it’s only the second day and I feel like I’m failing him.”

“You’re gonna take him in, right?” Happy questioned.

I heard my mentor scoff like it was the most obvious answer in the multiverse, “of course I am. If he wants me to, I mean. I can’t just leave the kid to fend for himself.” Wait what? He’d actually take me in? I knew he was generous but like, wow. Wow, I just, I can’t believe that he would be willing to do that for me. I could never ask that of him, never never never. But like, he even thought of it himself. This is so unreal, just… wow.

Happy sounded as if he was smirking, “and because he’s your son,” Mr. Stark tried to cut him off with a ‘hey!’ but Happy was quick to keep talking, “don’t lie to me, everyone knows you see him as your son. You literally call him ‘kid.’” 

I know Mr. Stark well enough to know he rolled his eyes at his friend, “so then it makes adopting him even more fitting then.” Happy asked a question, but Mr. Stark was quick to reply, “yes of course I know taking him in and adopting are different, I’m not stupid. Of course I’m not going to dump this all on him at once, even I know that’s overwhelming.”

“One step at a time,” Happy agreed with him. “Where is the kid, anyway?” He questioned, and I felt my cheeks redden as if I’ve already been caught eavesdropping.

Though, I’m sure I would be able to tell if they knew I was listening in. I doubt Mr. Stark’s way of saying he actually wants me to be his kid would be letting me overhear him tell Happy. “I made him go take a shower, but he’s been gone awhile.” Shit, shit, he knows somethings wrong. It’s too late to back out now, I’m lucky Friday hasn’t already tattled me out. 

Not knowing what else to do, scared he would ask his A.I. what I’m up to, I walked towards where I heard the voices. As he had promised, Mr. Stark was in his kitchen, Happy standing in front of him.

My mentor greeted me with a smile, “speak of the devil. How was your shower?” He asked, before cringing at his own awkward question. At my shrug, he asked, “hungry? Actually, I know you are. What do you want?” He's trying to prompt me to speak. 

When I shrugged again, Happy spoke that time, “pancakes or waffles?” I stared at him, not knowing how to answer. “Pancakes?” Happy asked again, to which I nodded. Maybe I know how to answer, but maybe I just don’t want to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I sat down at the stool next to the island Happy was leaning against. I did not miss the two men making eye contact, before looking at me. While Mr. Stark got to work on the pancakes, Happy put his hand on my shoulder, I did not mean to lean into the contact , “how are you feeling?” 

When I shrugged yet again, he let out a deep breath, “you’ll hurt your shoulders shrugging so much,” he tried to lighten the mood. I would have given a small smile if I could have. If I could have… After that, the only sounds left were of Mr. Stark cooking our breakfast. When he was done, he slid into the stool next to me. Thankfully, Happy did not say anything when I instinctually hooked my finger into my mentors jeans belt loop. It was like a tiny bit of the weight on my shoulders left when I was able to be connected to Mr. Stark. 

While the two men chatted about this or that, I wasn’t really paying attention, I spent my time stabbing my overly large stack of pancakes with my fork. I had not even needed to cut them up, just sticking my fork in and out of them until they began to turn to mush. After who knows how long, Mr. Stark spoke up, “you know, they taste better when they’re in your body.” When I still did not take a bite of what I’m sure were tasty pancakes, he tried again, “Underoos, I know you feel sucky right now, to say the least,” now that’s an understatement , “but with your metabolism you’re gonna make yourself sick if you skip more meals.”

It’s wrong of me to make this even harder on him, even if I don’t feel like ever eating again for the rest of my pointless life. I stabbed my fork back into the food, this time taking a small bite. Only after getting a taste did the full feeling of hollowness in my stomach reveal itself to me. Quickly, I shoveled another bite into my mouth, and another. Though even after I ate, it did not fill that hollow void inside me. 

Happy offered to wash our dishes, giving Mr. Stark the chance I guess he was waiting for to talk to me. “So, Pete,” he began, doing little to keep my anxiety levels down, “I know we only just began the day, but I know waiting to have important conversations only makes spiraling out easier.” I thought he told Happy that he wasn’t going to spring everything on me at once. “I want to start off by saying that you are 3000% welcome to stay here as long as you want. I am happy to have you hear, I don’t want that silly little brain of yours making you think you’re a burden.” I searched his eyes but I did not spot any signs of a lie. 

He must of known I was not about to speak, because he did not hesitate to continue, “and if you want to stay here, I know you may need some of your stuff. So I want to give you the option, I can bring you down to your apartment and you can grab what you need or-” he did not get the chance to say the second option. I was already whipping my head side to side, trying to scream ‘no’ as loud as I could without uttering a sound. Please don’t make me go back there, let alone the car ride down, don’t make me enter that empty home. Please, please don’t. 

I did not notice the tears dripping down my cheeks until Mr. Stark reaches up his hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb. I didn’t even think about it, I just reached up, holding onto his arm, trying to ground myself. “It’s okay,” he tried to assure me, even though it’s not okay, “you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. Can you write up a list of anything you think you’ll need or want and Happy can go pick it up?” I gave a shaky nod, relief flooding through me.

Oh thank god it’s summer, if I was in school there would be no way in hell I would have Happy pick that shit up, school would be the last of my priorities. As much as I hate excessive heat, the summer has never been such a relief. In the sense of school at least. 

Looking around the room, I’m not sure when Happy left the room, but I was thankful for the privacy after that small breakdown. 

Reaching down, I realized I never put my phone back into my pocket. It must still be in my room. Looking around the room, I did not spot any pen and paper nearby and I just did not have it in me to get up and leave my mentor's side. He must have noticed my dilemma because he handed me his phone, saying I could just text Happy my list. He’s grown accustomed to my lack of speaking quite quickly, he must have really absorbed what Happy said about my way of coping. I'm not sure if he’s right, but I’ll still relish in Mr. Stark not trying to force me to talk when I just can’t. I can’t. 

Thankfully, after I texted Happy, Mr. Stark offered for us to go watch movies again. At my nod of approval, we stood, his arm casually slinging around me as he led me back to our movie room. I did not ask Happy for my Spider-Man suit. Once again, we sat together on the couch, a mountain of cuddly blankets piled over us as Disney movies played. I did not miss how we only watched particularly happy ones, none with death in them, which surprisingly is not a lot to choose from. 

It was only while the third movie played softly, Mr. Stark's fingers once again carding through my hair, that it finally hit me what song I was humming to myself earlier. It was It’s Quiet Uptown from Hamilton. I’m not sure how I feel about that… 

Chapter Text

The next day went just about the same as the day prior, Mr. Stark making sure I ate and had proper hygiene, then us sitting together and watching happy animated movies the rest of the day. Of course I always kept a hand on his shirt or finger through his belt loop if he didn’t have an arm around me. Mr. Stark even began giving commentary like he and I would before , him cracking jokes and doing just about anything to try to get me to smile. Though at a couple times, he did make me want to smile, made me wish I could, but I just didn’t have it in me. We stayed like that until night approached, we had just finished dinner and he decided that that was the perfect time for another heart to heart. Or rather his heart to me just taking it all in, listening and listening and listening with a million things to say but still not uttering a word. 

Before the next movie could begin to play automatically, I’m sure we’ll run out of happy Disney movies soon , Mr. Stark called out, “Friday, wait to start the next one,” at her confirmation, he turned to face me better, “Peter,” he breathed out, which only succeeded in increasing my anxiety, “I know this isn’t a conversation anyone wants to have, but it’s necessary.” The gears in my head spun on overdrive, trying to figure out what he was going to say next, “we need to figure out how we are going to do May’s funeral.”

I felt the blood drain out of my face even before he finished his statement. “Hey, Pete, you need to breath,” he took my hand and placed it on his chest, “focus on my breathing, okay?” How in the hell am I supposed to focus on his breathing when he just told me I need to figure out how to bury my last blood relative? That I need to plan how to say goodbye to her, how everyone will say goodbye to her? 

I only vaguely registered him instructing me on how to breathe deeper, but I was too lost in my own thoughts. I can’t do it, I can’t face her. I can’t face her body, what’s left of it, I can’t face her casket and I know it was because of me her body is it. All I do is kill and kill and kill, Uncle Ben and now Aunt May and Mr. Stark is probably next, I don’t see why not. All my family needs to be killed off because of me at one point or another. He pulled me to his chest, if I was more myself I would have been frightened at the pure terror on his face, “C’mon Petey Pie, you can breathe, I know you can.” 

After far too many minutes, seemingly endless reassurances, and more than a few dozen overly exaggerated breaths, Mr. Stark was finally able to calm me down as much as I could. It was more that I just was so utterly spent that there was not enough energy left in me to keep hyperventilating. So I guess I’m less calm, and just a bit more dead inside. How fitting.

Still holding me to his chest, if you told me a week ago that Mr. Stark and I would be this physically comfortable with each other I would have laughed in your face, god I used to be able to laugh, he finally continued. “If you want me to, I’ll take care of everything, all you’ll need to do is show up.” Isn’t that wrong of me, shouldn’t I pour all my thoughts and energy into this for her? “Um…” he thought for a second, “nod if you want me to take the lead.” Some selfish part of me nodded before I could stop myself. 

When will I stop being selfish?

And yet, he wasn’t done, “I know, I know this is so hard, hard doesn’t even come close to doing this justice,” all I could do was utter out a shaky breath, to which he ran his fingers through my hair comfortingly, “I think the best way to go about this is I’ll ask you a question and you can just nod or shake your head, and then I’ll make it all happen. Sound bearable?” I gave a small nod into his chest. This is the best it can get isn’t it? And I’m just sitting here like the ungrateful piece of shit that I am. He’s the only reason I haven’t withered away yet and I’m taking it all for granted. I really am a selfish monster, aren’t I?

He let out a deep breath, trying to make this as painless as possible, “I think she’d want a more intimate funeral, just close friends and family. Do you agree?” What family? I’m the last Parker on Earth. Now isn’t the time to be more of a shit, instead of finding a way to communicate my stupidity, I nodded. “Good,” he petted my head as if it I’m a dog that obeyed well, like a good boy, “the only other big question I want to ask right now is do you want to say something in her honor? It’s completely okay either way, I’m never going to pressure you either way. I was pressured at my parents funeral to speak and it only made it harder on me.” 

I stopped registering what he was saying after ‘say something.’ How am I- if I can’t even whisper a single word to my mentor, the only person I kinda have left, then how in the hell am I supposed to give a speech? I don’t even know if I can speak anymore, if when I open my mouth any words will come out. It’s like that line from Hadestown, ‘is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out, nothing, nothing gonna wake me now.’ God, I deserve to never wake up again.

He tried to pull me from my thoughts, “it’s okay if you don’t know right now. You have a few days to figure it out, okay?” Is that even a yes or no question? I managed a faint shrug in response, because yes I am just that pathetic. He did not press me to answer however, instead he just told Friday to play the next movie while he scratched my scalp soothingly.

What he did not tell me is that having the weight of figuring out whether or not to say something at the funeral will never leave your mind. Not when he’s making fun of the scientific inaccuracies of  a kids movie, and nor when I’m dozing off on the couch for the however many days in a row with Mr. Stark holding me close. He holds me as if I’m actually his own child. It was not until the night before the funeral that my mentor planned and executed himself, my job that I delegated off to him like a selfish little freeloader , that when he asked me again if I want to give a speech I shook my head ‘no.’ Because even if I regret my decision, even if it weighs on me the rest of my life that I should have said something, anything, in her honor, I deserve it. I deserve all the pain. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard those few days if I didn’t have the song It’s Quiet Uptown playing through my head on an endless loop. 

The day of the funeral started like every other day this week, me waking up on the couch in Mr. Stark’s arms, trying to blink away the image of my dead aunt from my nightmares. Then we part ways after far too much hesitation, I shower, he makes me breakfast, but then instead of him offering that we watch movies, as if I do anything else while I’m here , he told me my suit was hanging in his room. He even offered to help me if I needed anything. Y’know, it was Aunt May who taught me how to tie a tie. Would it make her proud if I could tie it myself now? Would she be disappointed if I don’t remember?

When Mr. Stark led me to his room, the second I saw the suit I knew it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t the suit from the apartment I had worn to Uncle Ben’s funeral, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. There wasn’t enough time to figure it out though, as my body decided it was a good time to go on autopilot. Not like I had enough energy to try to stop it. Though, then came the tie. No matter how many tries I tried to tie it, I kept failing and failing and god Aunt May I failed you again. 

Seeing my silent struggle, my mentor offered, “do you want me to tie it?” Even with the tears of frustration in my eyes, I still furiously shook my head no no no. When I messed up the should be simple process yet again, Mr. Stark's voice sounded again, quieter this time but just as sympathetic, “do you want me to remind you how?” That is what got me to pause my aggressive incorrect tying, the word ‘remind.’ He's not teaching me afterall, because I know how to do it, I really do, he’s just jogging my memory. Maybe that would disappoint Aunt May less… After a few breaths of thought, I hesitantly nodded.

He gave me a proud smile at my answer, not that he was proud of himself, but like, he seemed proud of me for some reason. I couldn’t figure it out, but I didn’t try that hard either.  I didn’t put enough thought into it to try to figure it out, maybe I could have if I tried harder. With that, he untied his own tie, he had changed into his own suit during my struggles, and began to take me step by step through the process. “Good job, kid, you did it,” he gave me a small smile when the tie was finally done properly.

I should have known though that I was forgetting something when I thought I was ready to go after the whole tie fiasco. It was a Friday who reminded me, “Boss, Happy would like to inform you that the car is ready.” I had not even realized my knees gave out until Mr. Stark was holding me on the floor.

“Hey, hey, Mr. Doe Eyes, I got you. You’re going to be safe,” no, no, he doesn’t understand. He never understood, it was never about me! He’s the one that can’t step foot in that car, he’s the one who’s at risk being around me. I’m the one that’s going to prove that even Iron can break and even a Stark can be killed by some stupid kid. “I promise nothing will happen to us.” Stop making promises. All he ever does is promise and swear and shouldn't he know better than to do that by now? “I know this sucks so badly, but I assure you going in the car will help you, you’ll get to see that we can be safe.” Why can’t we just take the Iron Man suit again? Why can’t we just do it like last time?

As many tears that poured from my eyes, as many hiccuping breaths I had, Mr. Stark still scooped me up from off the floor and carried me to the elevator, talking the whole way, “I’m just doing what I think is best, Spider-Baby.” Did he really need to solidify how childish I’m being by calling me a baby? “I’ll hold you the whole way, I won’t let you go for a single second.” Though his attempts at comfort did nothing to stop my crying, I just dug my face into his neck, not caring how I was dirtying his probably too expensive suit. Or at least, not caring that much.

Arriving to the stupid death machine I did not dare peek out to meet eyes with Happy, even when I felt him staring. Not even he had the audacity though, to comment on my utterly humiliating appearance. Though, only when Mr. Stark shifted to place me in the car did I let out a pathetic whine, using my stickiness to make sure he doesn’t even have the chance to let me go. I’m just that selfish. “I’m not putting you down, I’m just trying to figure out how to get in,” he explained, trying to get into the car while holding me, hitting his head on the car roof in the process. He breathed out a swear, finally settling down with me in the backseat of the cursed vehicle. The second he sat down I shifted so that I was on top of him, covering his body. 

This time I won’t fail, if we get in an accident I’ll be the human shield, I’ll protect him. I can’t let him die on my watch too… I don’t need anymore blood drip drip dripping off my hands.

He rubbed my back while I wrapped my arms around his neck, still crying into him, what for at this point I don’t even know. Nothing and everything. It simultaneously took us forever to get to the graveyard for the funeral, and still way too quick. I’m not sure which would have been better. Mr. Stark whispered reassurances to me every time I flinched at a bump in the road. He still doesn't understand what I’m actually scared about.  

Getting out of the car, I stood on my own rather than being carried again, though I still held a fistful of my mentor's suit jacket sleeve. Looking around, it was not nearly as extravagant as I thought it would be, though some part of me was relieved at that fact. Simple flower arrangements, only enough chairs for at most fifty people maybe. I did not bother to try to get an accurate estimation. And then I saw the casket. God the casket, she’s there. That’s where my last family member resides.

I’ve had It’s Quiet Uptown stuck in my head every day until today, there’s some other tune in my head but I didn’t put the thought in the place what it was.

It was a closed casket, as expected given the state of her body that day. But the selfish part of me hoped it would be an open casket, because that would mean her body wasn’t too ruined to be shown. Then they would have done her hair and make up and put her in her Sunday best and then maybe I could have had a different last image of her in my brain. But no, that’s not what I deserve. I deserve the bloody image of her to be seared into my brain like a brand. I deserve the last image I have of her to play through my head every night like an endless horror movie.

I stood there, staring at that god awful casket until someone called out my name, “Peter!” I turned, to come face to face with Ned, “dude…” he breathed out, taking in what I’m sure is a red tear stained face. He didn’t say anything more, instead he just came forward and pulled me into a tight embrace. I bet he didn’t even know what to say, I can’t blame him. It’s not like I do either. Letting go of Mr. Stark's arm for the first time since arriving, I wrapped my arms around Ned just as tight as he did me. 

If I could have, maybe I would have said how much I miss her. How I have no right to, how it’s my fault and I don’t deserve his generous hug. How we should not be here right now, we should be building a LEGO set at my now abandoned home, Aunt May laughing as she informs us she burnt the cookies she was making. Again. As if we couldn’t smell the putrid scent in the air already. But I couldn’t get any words out, I just released whimpers into my best friend's shoulder as he held me. He held me until the priest came up to the front, asking everyone to sit. Coworkers and friends, and just one family member. There would have been more if I hadn’t killed them all off like a psychopath. I never wanted this, I wasn’t trying to let anything happen to her I just was too scared, too shocked to react. But that’s no excuse.

Ned sat me down next to him when I had just stood there frozen, though the embrace was broken he still kept an arm slung around me. I didn’t need to look to know Mr. Stark was next to me on the other side, and Happy on the other side of him. Honestly, I didn’t have it in me to pay attention to whatever the priest was saying. It’s not like I haven’t been to one of these before. Again and again and again. Instead, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what that insistent tune was. I would think It’s Quiet Uptown would still be there, it’s all too fitting, but for once that song was on pause.

I had to refrain from humming while one of Aunt May’s friends was telling a story about her, it was something funny as I heard everyone around me give small chuckles here and there but it’s like I was in a clear box, I saw this all around me but none of it really reached me. All I want is to know that song, once I know it I can finally focus on the pressing matter at hand. Why do I have to fail at this too, as if I don’t fail at everything? It’s just a song and I’m failing, everything’s been failing me, even my words are failing me and normally I talk far too much.

Wait! Words fail me, it’s Words Fail. I’ve only been listening to Hamilton why the hell is Dear Evan Hansen in my head. Admittedly, I don’t know all the lyrics, but the only ones that mattered were running through my head again and again like a mantra, ‘So I just stand here sorry, Searching for something to say, Something to say, Words fail, words fail, There's nothing I can say.” There really is nothing I can say. Nothing left of me, no pieces to put back together, nothing to work with to even pretend the void could be filled. Nothing when the priest asked if anyone else wanted to share, nothing when everyone laughed and cried at the beautiful stories. 

Nothing.

Long after the stories were run out and the casket was in the ground, I stayed in that chair, eyes fixed on the grass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. There’s nothing left. All my puzzle pieces have been buried with Dead May, there's nothing left now. While Ned kept his arm wrapped around me, Mr. Stark stood guard in front of me, shooing away all the well meaning adults wishing to give me their condolences. I didn’t even have it in me to acknowledge my best friend when he said he needed to go. I knew he’d leave eventually, everyone does. He’s no different.

“Peter, are you ready to go?” My mentor's voice was far too soft for a Stark while he was kneeled down in front of me, trying to get into my eyeline. When I did not respond, did not even acknowledge he was there, he questioned, “can you just give a little nod or shake of the head?” 

Nothing.

He fought down a sigh, “I need you to give me something, okay? Consent as all that jazz,” he smiled a bit, but it didn’t meet his eyes. Nothing. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” Nothing. He reached out and placed his hand on my arm. Nothing. He moved his hand and gripped my own. “Just shake your head if you want me to stop,” he stopped phrasing his words like questions. He stood, trying to pull me up by the hand with him. “Okay, that’s not going to work. I’m going to pick you up, there’s no one left to watch so no need to be embarrassed,” his tone was lighter that time, almost like a joke. Almost.

Nothing.

My only reaction when he reached down and picked me up, one arm under my knees the other around my back, was to lean my head against his shoulder. No more tears, nothing left.

Nothing left of me at all.

Chapter Text

I wish I could say that I had stayed glued to Mr. Stark’s side the rest of the funeral day, that I let him comfort me and hold me and make me feel not alone. Instead, I nodded to the question, ‘do you want some space’ and then I nodded to ‘do you want to go to your room’ and then I went back to my not responding. Nothing left at all. That was the first night I spent alone since that god awful day and I dare say my nightmares were worse that time, yet I still did not go searching for my mentor. No, I did not even get up when morning arrived, I did not take a shower, I did not go eat breakfast, I did not follow our routine.

The only thing I did do while I laid in my bed, which is far too big and comfortable for the likes of me, was open my phone, ignoring the endless texts I’m sure were from Ned, and go to my music app. Thankfully, I already have Hamilton downloaded from my musical phase that had annoyed the absolute shit out of Aunt May. Clicking on It’s Quiet Uptown, I put it on repeat and did not touch my phone again. 

“There are moments that the words don’t reach, there is suffering too terrible to name.” 

God that’s so true. Though the lyrics can’t hit perfectly on the spot, in this case the parent died and the child lived, it still reaches better than anything else right now. As awful as it sounds, it should have been Aunt May listening to music mourning me, not me mourning her. Just because she’s older doesn’t mean she should have died like that. In an ideal world, we both would have lived, but in a better world she would have lived and it would be me in the ground. Superheroes are supposed to sacrifice themselves after all.

“You hold your child as tight as you can, and push away the unimaginable. The moments when you’re in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down.”

It is better to swim down, I am swimming down. It’s better for me to wither away, suffer to death. It’s better for me to dehydrate, to starve myself, to not shower and hope I get an infection or disease somehow. It’s better for me to suffer, it’s what I deserve. I don’t deserve a nice quick death, I deserve it to be long and gruesome, no saving me. I don’t think Mr. Stark would let anyone kill me as much as I deserve it, but maybe he won’t notice if I just fade away.

“The Hamiltons move uptown, and learn to live with the unimaginable.”

How can I learn to live with this? How can I learn to live when everyone around me dies? Mr. Stark is going to die too, and Ned, and Happy, they’re all going to leave me too. And odds are, it’ll be my fault. Maybe I’ll get in trouble again and Mr. Stark will have to come save me, but trying to save me he won’t be able to save himself that time. Maybe some bad guy will find out who I am and kill Ned to try to get to me. Maybe Happy will be on his way to come pick me up from school like normal, but this time he’ll get in his own car accident. Odds are, I’ll be the end of everyone I love. I can’t learn to live without them.

“I spend hours in the garden, I walk alone to the store. And it’s quiet uptown, I never liked the quiet before.”

It really is quiet now, and I don’t know if I like it but I need it. It’s better like this. It’s better I don’t talk, I don’t deserve to. Seeing her casket, it finally sunk in that it really is all my fault, it’s undeniable. I’m Spider-Man, I could have saved her. I could have jumped in front of her and taken the blow, or grabbed the wheel and swerved the car away, or gotten out and stopped the other car. Anything. At the very least I could have said something, told her, and then she could have swerved away, but I was frozen in fear. I sensed the car coming and I was still paralyzed and didn’t say anything and now she’s gone. I’m a kid who never shut up and for once I was silent. If I didn’t say anything before, I don’t deserve to now.

“I take the children to church on Sunday, a sign of the cross at the door. And I pray. That never used to happen before.”

A unt May, I know I have no right to ask this but please give me a sign, are you mad at me? Do you blame me like I blame me? I have no right to ask but please have mercy on me, please kill me like I killed you. I know, I know I deserve to live as the last Parker and live in torture but I can’t- I can’t take the pain. I can’t, please have mercy on me, please, kill me. I know I never pray for anything, but I’m praying for this. Just this one thing. Please… am I supposed to say amen?

“If you see him in the street, walking by himself, talking by himself, have pity.”

Don’t pity me, no one pity me. I don’t deserve it, I deserve to be an outcast, ostracized. I don’t deserve to pain anyone with pity for me. I deserve to be alone, and everyone deserves to be safe from me. I’m cursed. No one should be around someone as cursed as me, not even Mr. Stark- no, especially not him. He’s cared for me more this past week than I could ever repay in three thousand years. 

“Phillip you would like it uptown, it’s quiet uptown.”

Dead Aunt May, would you like me better like this? Quiet? You used to joke all you wanted was a quiet night in for your birthdays, if I was like this before would you have been happier? No endless rambles that never shut up, no insistent stupid questions, nothing at all?

“He’s working through the unimaginable. His hair has gone grey, he passes everyday. They say he walks the length of the city.”

I’m not even that productive, I can’t even get out of bed on my own. I just lay here helpless and useless, and it’s what I am. I am helpless and useless, I can’t do anything at all. How am I supposed to go on when I’ve never been able to save the people who really matter? A Spider-Man that can't save people is a Spider-Man that doesn’t deserve to be here. I can’t even save myself, but it’s better that way, I don’t deserve to ge saved.

“You knock me out, I fall apart.”

Was I even whole? Before my parents died, was I whole then? Or was a born incomplete, a few too many pieces missing to ever be seen as whole? With every person who leaves, more of my puzzle pieces have been taken. You can’t fall apart if there’s nothing left, you can’t be incomplete if there's nothing to complete. Just an unfixable void, just a sack of empty space taking up too much space. All I do is take up too much space, space that should belong to someone else, someone not so broken, so unfixable. 

“Can you imagine?” 

I used to think I could, I used to think I knew pain when mom and dad died. I thought I understood what loss was, what death was. But back then, I had Uncle Ben and Aunt May, I had people to help me feel like my picture wasn’t missing any parts. And then Uncle Ben died and I was so sure I understood. I blamed myself then too, rightfully. But I had Aunt May, I had someone to lean on, someone to share the pain with. And now Aunt May is dead and gone and it’s my fault, it’s always my fault. I thought I understood and I thought I understood but now, only now do I understand. I may have Mr. Stark now but I shouldn’t, I need to keep him safe from me.

“Look at where we are, look at where we started. I know I don’t deserve you, Eliza. But hear me out, that would be enough.”

I started a broken little boy and that’s how I’m ending. I started with loss and that’s how I’m ending. I started with an Uncle and an Aunt and now I have Mr. Stark, but I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve him. I could never and I will never deserve him. I deserve to end alone, it’s how it’s meant to be. How could I not be meant to be alone when everyone keeps dying? How could that not be the universe trying to tell me something?

“If I could spare his life, if I could trade his life for mine, he’d be standing here right now. And you would smile, and that would be enough.” 

In a second, in a breath, in a single heartbeat I would trade my life for Dead Aunt May’s. I would not hesitate, not need to think for a single second. I would trade my life for hers without any regret, I would go to Hell for her. I would trade my life for every person I’ve killed, if I was worth that much. But I’m not even worth enough for one person, let alone Dead Aunt May. I’m not worth a single soul.

“I don’t pretend to know the challenges we’re facing. I know there’s no replacing what we’ve lost, and you need time.”

I really don’t know what it’s like to be completely alone, as much as I deserve it. Mr. Stark is the one taking care of me, he even took on the job of planning the funeral so I wouldn’t have to. Maybe I don’t understand, maybe I can’t understand because I’m still being selfish, I’m still letting him take care of me. And yeah, no one could replace Aunt May, not Mr. Stark, not Ned, not Happy, no one, but is that not what I’m doing? I did the same thing when Uncle Ben died, albeit I still talked just not as much, I let Aunt May do everything while I just cried on the sidelines. God, I’m replacing Aunt May just because she’s Dead Aunt May now, that’s not fair. That’s dishonoring her, I really am a monster.

“But I’m not afraid, I know who I married. Just let me stay here by your side, that would be enough.”

It’s wrong for me to stay by Mr. Stark’s side. It was wrong of me to stay glued to him, literally with my stickiness, for so long. I spent days crying anytime he wasn’t within my reach and that was so incredibly ridiculously selfish and wrong. I don’t deserve his comfort, I don’t deserve his reassurances and generosity. I deserve to die here for everything I’ve done, and he deserves to stay far away. I should know better than to get so close to him, be so blatantly uncareful of spreading the curse to him. He deserves to be free of me, he deserves to not have my jagged broken mess of a person cut him when he tries to piece me together.

“If you see him in the street, walking by her side, talking by her side, have pity.”

I don’t deserve to be by anyone’s side. I need to be alone, stay alone. I need to protect everyone else from me, from my curse. I can’t let anyone else be hurt or die because of something as stupid as loneliness. Loneliness is nothing compared to the pain I’ve caused so many people and continue to cause every day. All I do is hurt and hurt and kill and murder everyone I get into contact with. 

“Eliza, do you like it uptown, it’s quiet uptown.”

Maybe Mr. Stark likes me better like this too. He doesn’t need to be annoyed with me anymore, I’m sure Happy is glad my rambles are over. Maybe Mr. Stark is relieved I’ve finally shut up, finally zipped my lips closed. It has to be better like this. I know it must be.

“He's trying to do the unimaginable. See them walking in the park, long after dark, taking in the sights of the city.”

I can’t do it, I can’t do the unimaginable. I can’t move on, recover, be better. I can’t learn to live without her. It’s not right for me to even try. This life I’m beginning to build with Mr. Stark, it needs to stop. I need to stop, leave him alone for once. I’m lucky he hasn’t thrown me out already, he has every right to. Maybe it would be better if he did, then no one would stop me from fading away, it would almost be like I never existed at all.

“Look around, look around, Eliza.”

I’m not lucky to be alive, this is a curse worse than death. Living and knowing I’m the reason so many people's lives have been taken is so much worse than if I had been killed too. Aunt May would have been okay, she could have learned how to live again. She’s so much stronger than I could ever be… well, she was. I hate the past tense, it’s like she’s really gone, like she was never even here. I don’t want to look around anywhere that Aunt May isn’t and should be.

“They are trying to do the unimaginable.”

I'm not trying, and I’m failing. All I ever do is fail. What’s the point of trying when all I can do is continue to fail? I tried to cope with Uncle Ben's death and I failed. I tried to do good as Spider-Man and then I almost killed hundreds on a ferry and I couldn’t even stop the Vulture without breaking down multiple times. There’s no way to get through this without failing.

“There are moments that the words don’t reach, there is a grace too powerful to name. We push away what we can never understand, we push away the unimaginable.”

I need to push it all away, push everything and everyone away. I need to be isolated, it’s safer for everyone. It’s what I deserve. I don’t deserve to be understood, I deserve to be isolated in every way. I need to keep Mr. Stark away, I need to make sure he gives up on me. If he gives up on me, maybe he won’t be hurt too.

“We are standing in the garden, Alexander by Eliza’s side. She takes his hand, It’s quiet uptown. Forgiveness, can you imagine? Forgiveness, can you imagine?”

No, I can’t imagine, I can’t. No one in their right minds could ever forgive me, I don’t deserve it. I can’t even forgive myself. If I wasn’t so stupid and weak then Aunt May would be here. I could never and should never forgive myself for the rest of my days. 

“If you see him in the street, walking by her side, talking by her side, have pity. They are going through the unimaginable.”

When I finished the song, I listened to it again and again and again. I listened to it loud enough to try to drown out all other noise, but no matter how high the volume was it could never compare to how loud my thoughts are. I kept listening until there was a knock at my door, but I did not pause the music. He must have realized I was not going to say anything, because Mr. Stark entered, “can I come in?” He double checked.

My only acknowledgment of his entrance was flicking my eyes over to him before moving back to stare at the same wall again. When I looked over, I noticed he had a plate in his hands, it’s probably the breakfast I missed. I made him waste his time making food I don’t deserve… Walking over to me, he placed the plate of waffles on my nightstand before sitting next to me on my bed. “You didn’t come up for breakfast, I wanted to come check on you.”

No, don’t put that pressure on yourself. You don’t deserve to have to deal with me, you shouldn’t have the weight to keep me alive on your shoulders. 

When I did not even move at all to respond, he let out a sigh, “I know you don’t feel like doing anything, but some things still are necessary.” He doesn’t understand, I’m supposed to not do the ‘necessary’ things, it’s good for me not to. He reached out to rub my back as I laid there like a pathetic lump, I did not allow myself to lean into the touch like my body craved to but selfishly I didn’t have it in me to move away either , “I know you don’t wanna, Spider-roo, but it’s necessary. I’m not asking you to do everything, let’s just start with a few bites of breakfast, okay?” Is it worse to waste his food or to keep me alive?

When I yet again did not answer him, he asked a new question, voice lowered, “do you want me to give you some space?” It’s the best for both of us, he can let me go and I can let myself go with no one to stop me.

After a few seconds of thought, I nodded, giving my definite decision. With a sigh, he whispered, “okay,” respecting my choice. “I’ll come bring you lunch later, alright?” He did not wait for me to answer that time, knowing a response wasn’t coming, “you can text me anytime, about anything at all. I’ll be in the lab if you need anything,” and with that he stood up. He only looked back once before leaving me alone, like a confirmation that this is really what I want, closing the door on his way out.

Even after he was gone, I kept the music playing. The same song playing again and again and again. I swallowed down the loneliness and insistent feeling of being touch starved, even though that’s no where close to true. I just kept my thoughts on the song on repeat, this is for the best. I know it is. At this point I’ve listened to the song so much I know the lyrics better than the letters in my own name. Peter Parker, the last Parker. Because I murdered the rest of them off like a serial killer.

Chapter Text

The next morning, I had only listened to It’s Quiet Uptown four and a third times before there was that familiar knock at my door. This time he only hesitated a second before entering the bedroom, with yet another plate. “Hey Roo,” he greeted with a smile I could only describe as sad. And that’s my fault. I made him sad, I ruined his room brightening smile with my… well my everything.

Approaching me, he had to shift around my still full plates from the day prior to make room for the fresh plate of breakfast. “Did you sleep okay?” He knows now to ask yes or no questions only. I gave a faint shrug, not necessarily a lie but not as bad as the truth either. Is shrugging wrong? It’s still interacting with him and interacting with him makes him more likely to get my curse and die too. He sat down on the bed beside me, “I know you want to just stay here all day, but I really don’t think that’s good for you. Can we go to our movie room, at least?” No, it’s not right to spend time with him. I need to leave him alone long enough he forgets I’m even here, that I even exist. 

I shook my head ‘no.’

He sighed, placing his hand on my knee and gently running his thumb back and forth over it, “we can go there and listen to music if you’d rather? We can keep listening to this song if that’s what you would like,” he offered. If I don’t accept, that will only make him worry, won’t it? Worrying will make him think about me more, not less. So that means if I go with him, that may actually help him let me go. If he thinks there’s nothing wrong with me, then there’s no reason to pay attention to me. 

That is when I nodded, small and barely visible but it was something. And he looked at me with the biggest smile I’ve seen since Aunt May became Dead Aunt May, it wasn’t so sad this time . “Great!” He exclaimed, standing back up and walking across the room to my dresser, “why don’t you take a quick shower after you eat and I’ll meet you in the movie room, okay?” He tossed a set of clothes he picked out for me onto the bed, giving me no excuse not to practice basic hygiene. I gave another small shrug, as much as I shouldn’t disappoint him, I just can’t do those things. It’s so incredibly pathetic, but showering and eating and changing clothes and going to another room is all too much at once and I know it’s stupid but it’s kind of overwhelming… 

He must have figured out that’s the best answer he would get, because he said, “okay. I’ll see you soon, Peteroo,” and with that he was gone. Gone, I’m gone. After a few too many breaths of just laying there, I finally forced myself into a sitting position. Glancing over the breakfast he made me, it honestly did look appetizing, but it’s wrong to eat it. With my metabolism, most people can go three weeks without eating anything, maybe I can die after one week. Maybe even sooner if I’m lucky.

Though, as much as I did not feel like it, I knew I needed to change into a clean set of clothes, it would be obvious if I didn’t follow that instruction. So, as much as I did not want to, I dragged myself out of the soft warm bed, snatching up the clothes he picked out for me. I ignored my dizziness when standing and the pain in my stomach making itself even more evident as I walked away from the delicious smelling food. Entering the restroom, I looked at the shower only for a second before deciding nope, not today. I used the toilet, washed my hands, and was changed into my clothes for the day in only a few minutes, before leaving the bathroom and flopping back down on the bed as if I had just run a marathon. Why is everything so draining all the time?

After a minute of laying there like an absolute baby, I forced myself to my feet yet again. Once again walking as if I wasn’t dizzy from my stupid body being needy. Thankfully the movie room wasn’t far, and I was able to get there and flop down on that cozy couch soon enough. Though, instead of sitting next to Mr. Stark like I had been doing consistently, I sat on the other side of it. Just because I’m here, doesn’t mean being too close isn’t a bad thing. 

After greeting me like he had not just seen me less than ten minutes earlier, he asked, “want to listen to music?” To which I gave a small nod. Music is more bearable than a movie, and a less lengthy commitment. “Same song you’ve been listening to?” And with another nod, he told Friday and It’s Quiet Uptown was finally in the background again like it’s meant to be. My mentor did not say anything further, just soaking in the music like me, and to my relief his silence also meant no more questions .  

It’s quiet, how ironic.

Listening to the song again and again and again, I could not help but wonder what he was thinking. Maybe he was sick of the song, sick of me for asking to have it on repeat. Or rather, nodding that I want this song. Maybe he understood the correlation between me and the lyrics, I mean he’s a genius of course he could not miss something so obvious. Maybe he understands why I’m quiet now. Maybe he understands what I’m thinking, maybe when he listens to this song he hears me. Isn’t that wrong?

For some reason I can’t place, I got the urge to change songs. It’s not like I’m sick of Its Quiet Uptown, surprisingly, but I felt like I needed a change. I just need to, okay? Though, once again I left my phone in my room like an absolute idiot. Glancing over at Mr. Stark, I knew he would have his phone on him and likely he would be far too happy to let me borrow it if it meant I would be more responsive. But isn’t it wrong to be that responsive? It’s just a song, afterall. I flicked my eyes away, before dragging them back over to him, how can I even ask him? 

He must have noticed my creepy staring because he questioned, “need something, kiddo?” To which the selfish part of me nodded before I could stop myself. “Hungry?” He asked, far too hopefully. “Want to go back to your room? Thirty? Something on your mind?” When I didn’t answer any of his inquiries, he asked, looking too lost for a Stark, “want to borrow my phone to tell me?” To which I finally nodded, and he let out a small breath of relief, which immediately tried to cover with a cough. Why must I be so problematic?

When he handed me his Stark Phone, instead of typing anything to tell him, I just used his application that connects to Friday, telling her to play the song Dead Mom from Beetlejuice. He startled at the abrupt change from “I never liked the quiet before…” to “hey Mom, Dead Mom, I need a little help here”. But he didn’t comment on the change in music, and nor did he comment when I handed him back his phone with no message for him on it. I’m just full of disappointments. Though it felt foreign to listen to a different song after so much of the same, I wasn’t against it.

“I'm a bunch of broken pieces, it was you who made me whole”

God, Aunt May was all I had left, she was all that was holding me together. Through every panic attack and after every nightmare I knew at least I had her there for me. When I cried I knew I could always go to her for comfort, she wiped my tears and held me like no other. She was the glue that kept my pieces from snapping apart, and now they are free to just drift away in the wind. As much as I would like to wish that Mr. Stark could be that for me, what he has done for me will end. He’s not my family, he’s not my father. 

“Every day dad's staring at me like all, ‘Hurry up, get happy, move along, forget about your mom’”

Even though Mr. Stark is not my dad, right now he’s what I have. And as much as he’s trying to help, I can’t move on. I can’t get up and get showered and eat and change my clothes and do all these seemingly easy tasks when I’m just as dead inside as Dead Aunt May. There’s nothing left of me, you can’t make something good out of nothing. You can’t make anything out of nothing. 

“Now jokes don't land and no one sees me nothing seems to fit”

As many jokes and playful insults he makes to the movies we watch, none of them can gain a reaction. Nothing, nothing he can come up with can compare to larb and overcooked cookies. Dead people can’t smile, dead people can’t laugh. Wouldn’t it be wrong to even want to smile when I’m practically a murderer? Wouldn’t it betray her to move on as if she never even mattered?

“I'll go insane if things don't change, whatever it takes to make him say your name, Dead Mom”

The song finally ended and before Friday could play it again, Mr. Stark spoke up for the first time since Dead Mom had started playing, “Pete, is this what you're feeling?” Though I know the answer is a definite yes, I did not respond. Am I really so selfish as to communicate with him, even if it’s just through music? He must have taken my silence for a yes, because he breathed out, “oh kid…” oh god what did I do?

Before I could even begin to size up how much I screwed the pooch this time, he muttered out so low I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear, “fuck, how do I word this?” All I do I burden him, add more stress and pressure why am I such a- “Pete, I am trying to help you move forward, but I don’t want to rush or invalidate you. I don’t want you to destroy yourself mourning forever but that doesn’t mean it’s not okay to feel what you feel. Does that make sense?” 

My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault. I never should have played Dead Au- Dead Mom, I should have stuck to Its Quiet Uptown and that song only. Of course he would take the abrupt change in music as a sign, as a literal translation of my feelings… but, but isn’t it? That is how I’m feeling, he’s not wrong. But, I wish he was. I wish I could whip my head side to side, screaming no no no while not saying a word. I wish I could deny that I do feel invalid, I do feel like I am supposed to suck it up and get over it. But I can’t, I can’t. I can’t move on from killing Dead Aunt May.

His words did not register with me until his hand was placed over mine, and as much as I knew I should flinch away, I leaned into the touch like the selfish stupid little shit I am. When did he even move to this side of the couch? “Kiddie, I’m right here for you,” he promised without even saying the words ‘I promise’. It’s like putting water on a grease fire, trying to help but just making everything so much harder. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now,” or ever , “but just please hea-” he was cut off by his phone ringing. With a curse, he pulled out the offending device. “It’s Happy, I’m sorry I need to take this, but I am putting a pin in this conversation for later, okay?” He didn’t wait for my inevitable lack of response, instead answering the phone when it ringed again. 

Stepping out of our comfy room, he made his way into the hall, but not before I heard him snap, “ what Forehead,” as he shut the door. Okay in my defense I didn’t actively have to try to listen in to Mr. Stark’s phone call, he just happened to be talking loudly and I happen to have an extremely sensitive hearing. “What do you mean I’m snippy, Grumpy?” My mentor snapped at Happy through the phone. “What is it that just couldn’t wait?” He paused for a moment, listening to his friend, “how do you expect me to know how he got your number, clearly that’s a job for the FBI to figure out, I don’t have high enough authority to figure out that vital information,” sarcasm dripped off his words.

He paused yet again, listening to Happy. If I wanted to, I could easily listen in to what the man on the other side was saying, but that sounded like more work than it was worth. “He’s sixteen, Hap, how bad could it be?... Oh yes, I totally forgot I’m a fossil and clearly can’t understand what spamming is.” Oh my god Happy is complaining about Ned. What other teenager would be texting him besides me? Mr. Stark huffed out a sigh, “I’ll talk to Peter about it… No, not yet. But he started nodding again, he even borrowed my phone to communicate with Friday… You’re probably right, as much as I hate to admit it. Ciao,” And with that, he hung up.

He stayed out in the hall for another moment though, before he came back inside the room. With a soft smile, he made his way over to the couch, sitting right next to me again, but not touching me. Close enough I can easily choose to get physical comfort, but far enough that I can have my space. “So, I should probably ask you now so that my Forehead of Security doesn’t smother me in my sleep if it slips my mind later,” he said it so plainly, as if he didn’t just have a clearly stressful conversation with his friend. “Neds been texting him about you, checking in on how you’re doing and asking if he can come see you.” 

God, I don’t deserve Ned. Even after the disaster I was at the funeral and even after not responding to any of his likely endless messages, he still hasn’t given up on me. He could so easily forget about me, leave me alone, and give up on contacting me. And yet he still will never cease to care, even though I could not deserve it any less. 

“Do you want him to come by sometime?” He asked me, before quickly adding on, “it’s three thousand percent okay either way, and you can always change your mind later.” He says that as if Ned will always be there, he can’t guarantee that. I can’t just leave him and ignore him and still expect him to be here when I’m done being a pouty child and have grown up finally. Though, I still found myself shrugging noncommittally, because of course I can’t even make simple decisions anymore. How much more of me do I need to lose before I can finally float away, finally be gone from here?

He gave me one of those sympathetic smiles I’m beginning to hate all over again. It’s a cycle, it doesn’t bother you at first, and then it does, then another person dies and the cycle repeats. It happened with my parents and Uncle Ben and now with Dead Aunt May. “It’s okay to not know right now.” It still astounds me to no end that he can be so patient with me. Especially right after hearing his outburst with Happy.

He gave me a look that was a breath or two too long to be called comfortable, “today’s been a lot already, why don’t we relax now. We can talk more later, want to keep listening to music?” To that, I gave him a firm answer, a nonverbal ‘no’ very loud and clear. “Movie?” After the mess of Dead Mom, music is out of the question. At least, not with him, when I’m back in the safety of my room I can keep obsessively listening to the musical songs. “Sounds good, kiddo.” He really is a master of sounding so lighthearted and chill after such serious conversations.

While he set up a happy movie to play, because of course it needs to be happy who do you think he is, I couldn’t help but continue to be pulled back into my thoughts. Wouldn’t it be better to have the rest of the hard conversations now so we don’t need to prolong this? Prolong the caring before he drops me? But then again, I can’t say he was wrong when he said it’s been a long morning. But changing my clothes and listening to music and failing at communicating with him should not be so draining. Those are easy tasks, what the absolute hell is even wrong with me?

Some animated movie began to play on the screen, though my eyes were trained on the film I was not absorbing a single scene. As much as I hate to admit it, part of me still craves to be close to Mr. Stark. As he sits next to me, I keep having to force myself to refrain from leaning over to rest my head on his shoulder. I keep needing to remind myself to stay away, curl up as far from him as possible. I can’t be stupid enough to keep spreading my curse.

Chapter Text

It almost felt like Groundhog Day, Mr. Stark coming to my room with a plate of breakfast, this time being eggs and toast, that I’m sure he knows by now will go untouched. And then him picking out a clean set of clothes for me, then telling me to go shower and to come to the movie room when I’m done. And then he’s gone. And then I’m left to pretend like I am capable of taking care of myself, pretend like I actually want to . 

Except this time, of course there was that normal dizziness when I sat up, but when I stood it was like the lights suddenly went out. And when my vision cleared enough to see again, I was on the floor even though it felt like I had only blacked out a second prior. Before I could even take in what had happened, Mr. Stark was bursting back into my room. 

All I could think of was the utter hollowness of my body. Like that void in me has finally manifested itself physically. It’s like a black hole inside me, rooted deep within and soon I’ll collapse in on myself like a dying star. Not soon enough though, most likely. 

“Pete!” He immediately dropped down next to me, helping me sit up, “Friday said you fell, are you okay?” If I could have I would have responded that yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine, just stood up too fast, I just tripped. It was nothing at all. Instead, I nodded despite the lingering dizziness. But rather than looking relieved at my assurance, he only seemed to grow more concerned. “Kid, don’t lie to me. I would always rather you say you’re not okay, even if every time you answer has to be that you’re not okay, than for you to lie,” he told me, voice so deadly serious that if I wasn’t anxious before then there’s no way I wouldn’t be now. 

If I had any right to speak, I would be apologizing again and again. But before I could think of whether I’m supposed to nod to what he said, he breathed out, “oh kiddie…” at my raised eyebrows he voiced his realization, “this is my fault, hey hey stop shaking your head, it is my fault. I’ve known you haven’t been eating and I’ve let it happen.” Even though he said I should stop shaking my head, I only continued it despite how much more dizzy it made me.

It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault, it’s never his fault. My actions are mine, he’s supposed to forget about me! He’s supposed to let me fade away, if he blames himself for me not eating then when I die he’ll think my blood is on his hands even though I’m the one drenched in red. I’m supposed to drown in my red, and he's supposed to stay far away, stay clean. 

He ran his hand over his face, “I’m the adult, I need to be taking better care of you.” No no no no no, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go! He’s supposed to stop caring, not take the blame on himself like some saint. He’s supposed to let me disappear, this isn’t the plan. I’m supposed to die, I’m supposed to - “but it’s harder to take care of you when I don’t know what’s going on. It’s one thing to forget to eat or just put it off, but it’s another to actively and continually choose not to eat,” he left it open for me to respond, to explain. But what does he actually expect of me? He knows I’m not going to talk, as if I could actually deserve to talk. 

This time, he sounded close to pleading, “please help me understand, Pete. I just want to help you,” but I continued to shake my head, making everything blurry again but I still ignored it. “Please,” he begged and it just sounded so wrong out of his lips. Tony Stark isn’t supposed to beg, he's not supposed to plead. He's not supposed to sound so desperate and- and panicked . And it’s my fault. I did this to him. I messed everything up with him too because that’s all I do. I’m like the opposite of King Midas, everything I touch breaks apart, it dies.

I need to make this stop, I need to fix this. I can’t ruin things with him too, if they aren’t too screwed up already. Maybe if I explain why I don’t eat, then maybe he can understand why it’s better that I don’t. Then he can see that I’m right and then he’ll have nothing to worry about. Looking around, I spotted my phone on my nightstand. He must have known what I was thinking because before I could stand and mess up my body more, he reached over and grabbed it for me. 

If he could understand Dead Mom before maybe he could understand another song. Songs are so much easier than speaking, and communicating with a song isn’t too bad, right? Except I don’t know what song to do, is there a song out there that explains that I need to stop eating so that I can suffer to death like I deserve because I keep causing everyone I love to die?    

Opening up my phone, I went to my music app. Having no idea what to play for him to explain myself in the slightest, I went to my recently listened to folder. In there I found the musical Beetlejuice. Maybe “a show about death” can say what I need to say. Scrolling through the soundtrack, I stopped on Invisible (reprise)/On The Roof. Well a suicide note is the closest I can get to saying what I need to say, most likely. He stayed quiet while I began the song. 

“You're invisible when you're me

There's no one to see my truth

If they could look up they'd see

‘Hey, somebody's on the roof!’”

I guess… even if I’m not not a roof that doesn’t make me any less suicidal. If anything, it makes me even more invisible, because no one expects you to starve to death. Especially a guy, it’s not guys who stereotypically have the problems with food. But that’s good for me, it’s better for me to be invisible. No one can miss someone who’s not even there, right?

Looking up at my mentor, I could see the gears turning in his head while he listened to the music. But he made no move to say anything, so I dragged my eyes back down.

“God, it's mortifying

What's the point of even trying?

'Cause now

I'm trapped with no escape

Banished, disavowed

I vanished like a cloud

Of dirty hipster vape”

If he makes me eat, I really will be trapped. There’s no other not extremely obvious way to kill me, to end my pain while still giving me the suffering I deserve while I go. I don’t have a point to keep trying but that doesn’t mean I can just go jump off a roof. I deserve to be tortured to death but that’s unlikely to happen anytime soon. 

“Nobody said life's fair

Guess they will never see

The demon who isn't there

You're invisible when you're...

Me”

I really am the demon here. And demons don’t deserve forgiveness, they don’t deserve to be seen. They deserve to just fade away like a puff of smoke, leave before they choke anyone else. 

“Whoa, what have we got here?

By the time you read this

I, Lydia Deetz, will be gone

There's nothing for me here

I'm alone, forsaken, invisible”

I paused it at that line, the rest of the song being irrelevant. I kept my eyes downcast, waiting for Mr. Stark’s reaction to the lyrics. Please let him understand why I need to go. Please let him let me go. Please let him- that is when he spoke up, “I’m right here kid, I’m here for you.” That’s the wrong answer, he’s supposed to run far far  away from me. He’s supposed to go, he’s supposed to let me fall. He’s- he’s- oh god no- “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my body close to his, “it’s okay to cry, it’s okay,” he insisted even when I continued to shake my head no no no. 

Even though I knew I should shove him away from me, I should pull back from him and push my stupid tears back into my eyes. I should lock him out of my room until I’m long dead, I should do so so many things and yet I stayed in his embrace. It’s not right for me to be the one crying when I’m the one ruining everything. I could only hope that if I repeated I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry in my head enough, somehow he’d be able to hear it.

“I’m right here for you, I’m not going anywhere, Petey. I’m going to figure out how to help you,” his voice was so soft and soothing and god why am I even being comforted? I have no reason to be crying, it has to just be the pain in my stomach. Yeah, that has to be it, it just must hurt too much. 

Everything hurts too much…

One hand wrapped around me, the other running his fingers through my hair, “I’m gonna help you through this, kid. We’ll get through this.” I’m not supposed to be doing this, I’m not supposed to take his comfort. But god it feels so much nicer for him to hold me than being here alone all day. It’s so much nicer to listen to his kind words than my mean mind. Isn’t this wrong though?

But as wrong as it was, I stayed in his arms, and I just let my tears flow. I’m  just that weak. That is, until he said, “Spider-Baby, as much as I would love to hug you the rest of the day, I need to be a responsible adult and make sure you eat something so you don’t collapse again.” God no. For the first time since the funeral, I used my stickiness to attach myself to him. He gave a small chuckle, though I blame being so out of it for not being able to tell whether the laugh was real or not, “even I can’t deny I love cuddling you kid, but you seriously need to eat.”

I didn’t mean to but I let out a sound that came out much too similar to a whine, much too close to speaking. He seemed to be just as caught off guard by my sudden noise as even I was. Though, he recovered first, “as adorable as you are, you need to eat. I know it’s hard and you don’t want to, but I can’t let you starve,” he ended the last part in a whisper. Right when I was about to shake my head in protest for what felt like the three thousandth time today, he spoke up again, “I know you’re really struggling right now, but starving yourself is definitely not the answer.”

He doesn’t understand, it’s the only answer. Staying here and letting him hold me and comfort me- as nice as it is, it’s wrong. How could it not be? I need to suffer, I’m supposed to, it’s the only thing fair. It’s unfair for me to die, that’s true, I deserve to live in my shame and endless pain, but I just can’t handle it. But ending myself in a way that still continually hurts me, that might be enough. Maybe then I could start to chip away at the infinite guilt I have. 

“Can you please try, Spiderling?” He asked, hardly above another beg. I’m so stupid to think some musical songs could make him understand me. Of course he couldn’t understand, he didn’t kill off his family. “You don’t need to start with a full meal right away,” he reasoned, “that would probably make you sick anyway. Why don’t you just start with a few bites?” He sounded much too like he was talking to a small child rather than a teenage superhero. I haven’t been much of a superhero lately though, in any sense of the word. 

The only reason I let one of my hands unstick from his shirt was to wipe the remaining tears from my eyes, finally making eye contact with him. If I don’t eat he’ll never leave me alone, but if I do eat then it’ll be longer until I die. I really have trapped myself… I must have made some stupid facial expression because he let out a sigh, “I really don’t want you to collapse again, kid, or worse. I promise I won’t be upset if you can’t eat much, let’s just try, okay?” He will never stop pressing me, will he? When I still did not nod nor shake my head, he questioned, “would it help to go cuddle in the movie room first?” Even though everything in me screamed no absolutely not I need to stay far away , the lonely childish part of me nodded. 

Before I could stand up, he smirked, “uh uh uh, Petey Baby, I’m not letting you fall again on my watch,” before I could realize what he was implying, obviously my brain is slower from the lack of food , he had one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. With a small groan he lifted me up, cursing his ancient back. Telling me to stick on, he used one arm to grab the plate of breakfast, handing it to me while I held onto him with my other hand. With both me and my food in hand, he carried me down to our movie room. He sat down, somehow managing to still hold me close while also helping me not spill the food. 

While I stared down the menace on the plate in my hand, he smiled at me, “well I have something to admit,” at my look of confusion, he went on, “after you showed me It’s Quiet Uptown and Dead Mom, I decided to check out the musicals. And yeah they’re not really my thing, but they were better than I was expecting.” Tony Stark listened to Hamilton and Beetlejuice? He actually listened to two musicals I really like, or rather I did like in my musical phase back in the day because I can’t like anything anymore if I have nothing left of me? “Do you want to watch one?” Watch one? Yeah a Hamilton movie just came out but there’s no movie of the musical Beetlejuice. 

I nodded, leaning back against his chest, totally not trying to distract myself from the food though obviously. With that, he told Friday to play Hamilton, I bet he chose Hamilton cuz it’s a much less sad musical than Beetlejuice. Though I didn’t feel his eyes on me I still could not help but feel he was watching to see whether I would actually eat or not. Whether I actually absorbed everything he just told me or not.

Picking up the fork on the plate, I pushed around the eggs because yes I am just that childish to be playing with my food. Would it be better to eat now so he doesn’t worry anymore and then I can just continue to skip meals later? I mean, a few bites can’t save my life, right? Stabbing the fork into the smallest piece of egg, I ever so slowly brought it up to my mouth. It was like the second I took a bite my body realized what it was missing. The hollowness of my stomach only seemed to amplify, like my body was trying to eat itself in desperation for more. Even for a superhero, the pain was almost debilitating, like if I didn’t get this whole plate of food in my body right now I would just fall to pieces. Isn’t that what I want though?

The next bite came quicker, trying to ease any amount of my discomfort. It’s like a war between my mind and body. My mind screaming to push the food as far away from me as I can, but my body screaming and begging for me to eat as much food as possible. I could only hope my mentor was ignoring the trembling of my hand as I brought the next bite up to my mouth. Why can’t anything ever be simple? After another bite I just, I couldn’t do it anymore. That’s good though. Somehow, my stomach seemed to both be relieved of it’s discomfort a teeny tiny bit, but also more pained because after going so long after not eating my body decided to spaz out.

When I put the fork down, Mr. Stark pressed a kiss to my head, “I’m so proud of you, Roo, so so proud,” he mumbled into my hair. Even though I know I don’t deserve his pride, part of me felt warm hearing his praise. “It’s okay if you can’t eat anymore right now, you can take a break,” he assured me, taking the plate from my hands and placing it aside. With that struggle literally out of my hands now, I just selfishly soaked in his comfort. One arm wrapped around me and the other ran his fingers through my hair, his classic way to physically comfort me. 

This is so wrong, I know it is, it’s wrong of me to take in his comfort like a child, to let him hold me like a parent would his son. He’s not my dad as much as I may pretend he is and as much as he may treat me like I’m his, I’m not. I’m not his, I don’t belong to anyone. I ruined everything with everyone I had a connection to. 

I don’t deserve this.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asked when I pressed my face back into his neck, hiding as if I could get away from my monstrous thoughts. To my shrug, he continued to thread his fingers through my hair, gently untangling any knots he came across. “I’m right here,” his voice was so soothing, so fatherly I just… I let myself relish in it. I couldn’t help it, who knew isolating yourself could be so hard, that it would leave you starved in more than one way?

Chapter Text

I should not be scared to see my best friend. Can I still call him my best friend when I’ve ignored him for what has felt like forever? I should not be dreading him coming. Isn’t it wrong for him to come, for me to let myself do something fun when I don’t deserve it? I should not be absolutely petrified to see Ned of all people. But he doesn’t know how I am now, he doesn’t know that I stopped talking and that I’m never saying another word again if I can help it. 

Every single thing I do is selfish, how did I ever call myself a hero?

I couldn’t even go in the car to go pick up Ned, that’s just like a common courtesy thing to do and I couldn’t even do something as simple as that. I can’t ever go in another car again. That must be so awkward for him to have to be in the car just with Happy all the way from Queens to here, he hardly even knows Happy. Ned isn’t nearly as awkward as me but that doesn't mean it’s not selfish of me to not have gone with to pick him up.

As the wonderful Last Five Years once said, “I suck, I suck, I suck, I suuuuuck.”

At least Mr. Stark didn’t force me to go in the car this time… but after the whole food scare thing, he probably didn’t want another scene. As if I want another one either. All I could do though was stew in my thoughts until Ned arrived. When he finally did come, my throat closed up as if I was actually planning on speaking. 

Standing up, I tried to blink away the dizziness and ignored the absolute hollow feeling of my body as I made my way over to my best friend. Does he still see me as his best friend? He immediately pulled me into a tight hug, just like he did at the funeral, seeming to answer that question without a word. I kept blinking rapidly, I’m not even sure if to fight the still prevalent dizziness or the tears beginning to push at the back of my eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Sometimes, by the right person it’s enough to just be held. He’s just that outstanding of a friend. 

After at least a solid few minutes of just holding each other, he finally pulled back and gave me one of those big grins of his, “hey dude,” and part of me wanted to smile back. But that’s wrong, I can’t smile. I can’t be happy, I don’t deserve it. To my lack of response, he continued talking, “it’s really nice to see you, man,” to which I nodded because the selfish part of me really is glad to see him.

Did Happy tell him I stopped speaking? Or is he just that good at taking everything in stride? He’s not one to shy away from asking questions, someone must have told him. And yet he still wanted to see me? It doesn’t make any sense, he should want to stay far far away from me.

Somehow the two of us ended up putting together the LEGO Millennium Falcon, which really did put the LEGO Death Star to shame, while listening to Star Wars in the background respectively. Of course it was A New Hope that we had to listen to, as if there were any other real options. It’s like before , before everything went wrong. This is the most normal it’s been since Aunt May died, it’s like two normal teens hanging out. Not a murderous superhero and an innocent civilian, just two best friends. 

Ned seemed almost giddy while putting it together with me, but I’m not sure if that’s more because we are hanging out or because he finally gets to put together the Ultimate Collector Series Millennium Falcon. I’m not sure when Mr. Stark bought this particular LEGO set for me, but I shouldn’t be surprised with how generous he is. I mean, what’s an eight hundred dollar LEGO set to a billionaire?

At one point, I could not reach a LEGO I needed for the section I was working on, and I was so close to asking ‘can you hand me that?’ as if this was just a normal afternoon of LEGO building at home. But I bit my tongue before I could break my silent streak. My quiet game can’t end that abruptly and absurdly, not over something so small and unimportant. Something so mundane. Instead, my lip punished between my teeth, I just pointed at the piece I needed and he got the message. 

Ned doesn’t know what I’ve done though. He doesn’t know what really happened to Aunt May to turn her into Dead Aunt May, he wouldn’t be mad if I started talking. He’d probably be happy. But he doesn’t understand why I shouldn’t talk, even if I want to. Just because he wouldn’t have a problem with me speaking doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. Being tempted to talk, that can’t be healing, right? That’s just me becoming more okay with what I did to Aunt May. The more time that passes the more okay with it I am and the more tempted I am to speak, and that’s wrong.

I’m not meant to speak. Right? Right. I don’t deserve it, I don’t. I don’t.

But I’m ruining this time with Ned. Even if I may have possibly cracked a small smile at Ned’s endless jokes and funny stories doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have more fun if I would joke along with him, or even if I would simply smile more openly, if I would speak . Just because I don’t deserve to be happy doesn’t mean Ned doesn’t either. He deserves to be happy and have fun and have a best friend he can actually enjoy his time with. 

I could possibly be that friend again if I let myself. 

His next joke, I let myself smile a little wider, and he positively beamed at me. His next time pointing out something he somehow never noticed before in the Star Wars film I nodded along more enthusiastically, and he looked so proud of himself it must have been contagious because I was proud too. 

I’m not forgetting Dead Aunt May, I’m not not punishing myself, I’m just not punishing Ned too and oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god, I’ve been punishing Mr. Stark. Happy too but mostly Mr. Stark. Yeah, I knew I was making everything more complicated and stressful for him but god I was so stupid. Instead of punishing me the murderer, I’ve been punishing him the superhero. He doesn’t deserve that. But the only way to fix it is to stop punishing me. I deserve to be punished but he doesn’t, and he has to come first. They all do. If I kill me they wouldn’t understand, they’d blame themselves. It would be me giving them the ultimate punishment, and I can’t do that. The three people I love most are Mr. Stark, Ned, and Happy I can’t punish them any longer… 

Because I am just that cheesy and I just… even if I’ll try to stop punishing them it doesn’t mean it’s easy to begin talking again after being so set on silence, I started building something separate. I used the semi built structure we had to hide the thing I was piecing together so it could be a surprise. It only took a minute and it was undeniably childish, but I’m sure it would get the point across. 

Handing it to Ned I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen him smile so much, “oh my god, dude! I’m gonna keep it forever!” He held up the silly little square shaped smiley face I made like an Olympic trophy. I wanted to say that we need those pieces to finish the set, but even if I had I knew he wouldn’t listen and god is it wrong for me to be smiling this much? 

With Ned still gushing over my smiley face as if it was anything special, Mr. Stark came in with a plate of food because of course he did. He’s just that generous. I’m not sure if the increasingly strong pain in my stomach was from hunger or guilt, probably both. “Want a snack, kids?” Mr. Stark offered so casually, as if it wasn’t obvious he’s doing this because it’s harder to refuse food in front of a friend than alone.

Before everything went to shit, I would have rolled my eyes at him and insisted we aren’t kids, even though I know he’d never stop. I’m not even sure I’d be filled with satisfaction if he stopped anyway.

If I thought Ned couldn’t get any happier I was dead wrong, pun not intended, “yes please! thank you! Want some, man?” My friend offered me a pouch of fruit snacks and with both of them staring at me I couldn’t refuse. Tentatively I took the snack and I did not miss Mr. Stark's look of triumph. 

He gobbled down the fruit snacks so easily and god I don’t even know what eating normally looks like anymore. “You okay, Pete?” And for a second he sounded like Mr. Stark. But when I nodded, he didn’t press, he just said “okay, just checking,” and he continued building the Millennium Falcon as if I was actually believable. 

Once A New Hope finished, we just went onto the next movie like we used to, doing movie after movie until it was time for our not play date to end. How does he make everything seem so normal again? Is this why Mr. Stark was so cool with him coming, because he knew Ned could bring out more of the old me?

The rest of the time with Ned went similarly, building our LEGO set, Ned joking around like nothing’s changed at all, Star Wars in the background, Mr. Stark periodically offering us snacks. It’s like a regular day. Like before Aunt May died. By the time Happy had to drive Ned home, I still can’t go in those death vehicles please don’t make me , the set was almost complete. “I’m happy to come by again whenever and help finish the Falcon,” he told me with a smile, “as long as you want me to,” he quickly added on, to which I nodded. It would really be nice to see him again. He doesn’t treat me like fractured glass, it’s just normal with him. 

He pulled me into a last long embrace, this time he whispered, “I love you, man,” and I could only hope my tight squeeze told him that I love him too. He really is a better friend than I could have ever even dreamed to have. And with that he was gone, and who knows when I’ll see him again. 

No more distractions from how shitty I treated Mr. Stark… 

As much as I deserve the pain I cause myself, I can’t keep doing this to Mr. Stark. What would make him happiest is me to not be such a sad mess. I need to stop drinking my expresso of depresso and be a normal person enough for him to be happy again. 

Speak of the devil , or rather, angel, “hey, kiddo,” he walked into the room, “did it go well with Neddo?” What's with all the rhyming? I swear we share a brain cell sometimes. I nodded but I guess that wasn’t convincing enough because he stepped closer to me, “something on your mind?” And once again I nodded. 

I can’t just suddenly start talking, that would be so abrupt and just not right. But maybe another song can work. Something that says I’m sorry, but what song apologizes? In Hamilton literally no one apologizes ever, I don’t think anyone in Beetlejuice does either, maybe Dear Evan Hansen? Oh! Evan apologizes for his lies! What song was that? Good For You? No, no, not that one. It must be Words Fail.

I swear he’s telepathic because Mr. Stark took out his phone and handed it to me. Looking up Words Fail I made sure it was the right song before beginning to play it, but since it was a lyric video I skipped until the right part.

“So I just stand here sorry

searching for something to say,

something to say”

I paused it, figuring playing more would just risk confusion. That seemed to be the right move because he whispered out, “oh Pete, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” But I rapidly shook my head, he doesn’t get it. I have everything to be sorry for. “Kid, I don’t understand why you’re sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he admitted, even though he’s incorrect. I’ve done everything wrong. He needs to understand. 

Scrolling through the rest of the lyrics and there were some lines that I could see fitting kind of, but nothing that was quite right. I do see that it would be easier if I just used my words and communicated verbally, but that’s scary…

I've treated him so shittily, he has to see that! But how will he understand if there’s no song that says exactly what I need to say? I need to just suck it up and talk already, it shouldn’t be so hard. Even after I caused Uncle Ben’s death I still spoke, even if maybe I shouldn’t have. I really don’t have a right to speak, but he has a right to understand. If he understands fully then maybe he will let me go this time. 

I forced a deep breath in and out, and I opened my mouth and and nothing came out. It hasn’t been that long since Aunt May died, I couldn’t have forgotten how to speak it just, I guess it just feels wrong. Because it is. But it’s worse to let Mr. Stark think I’m blameless when I deserve to be blamed. He seemed to get what I was trying to do because he stood there with bated breath, waiting to see, or rather hear what comes next. 

There’s a million things I need to say, a million reasons I need to explain why silence was and is deserved by me. There’s a million apologies I need to make. There’s so much to say and yet when I opened my mouth this time, there was only two little words that were breathed out so low that even with my super hearing it sounded far too quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Mr. Stark seemed to have heard me though because he then pulled me into an even tighter embrace than Ned had, “oh Peter…” he breathed out. And now it was my turn to be trapped in anticipation for what he would say next. I was utterly not prepared for him to say, “I’m so proud of you.” I shook my head side to side so hard it hurt, how can he still not understand? He’s literally a genius! “Peter, there is nothing in the world for you to be sorry about,” he pulled back enough to look me in the eye. He told me so definitely and with so much certainty that if I was less stubborn I would have let him take the win.

I continued to whip my head side to side, but I couldn’t manage to choke out any more words. It’s like I used up my entire supply with that one lame apology, but there’s so much I need to say. Huffing out a breath of frustration, I pulled back more from him, as much as it went against my instincts, to use the phone still in my hand. Racking my brain for every musical I’ve ever listened to, I tried to think of any song that could possibly fit. Maybe I just didn’t have the right song, but Dead Mom and It’s Quiet Uptown worked before and so another musical has to work now.

I’m not sure exactly how I remembered that I listened to Frozen Broadway once but I figured I’d give it a shot after Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, Beetlejuice, Waitress, Hadestown, The Last Five Years, 36 Questions, and several others did not fit the bill. Landing on the song Monster, I figured what the hell and scrolled through the lyric video for the right lines, thankfully Mr. Stark stayed unceasingly patient with me through the lengthy ordeal. 

“Is everyone in danger as long as I'm alive?

Was I a monster from the start?

How did I end up with this frozen heart?

Bringing destruction to the stage

Caught in a war that I never meant to wage

Do I kill the monster?

Father, you know what's best for me

If I die, will they be free?”

God damn it. Did I just call Mr. Stark my dad? Or at least allude to it? He seemed to be thinking the same thing as me because his eyes were so wide and that was not the point of the song no matter what I feel on the subject!

He took a breath before speaking, “Peter, you are not a monster.” It doesn’t feel right to hear him say my full name so many times. “You do not, never have, and never will deserve to die, no matter what you think. You haven’t done anything wrong, you aren’t hurting anyone.” At this point it can’t be that he just doesn’t see, he must just be lying for what he thinks will be my benefit. 

His tone changed in a way I don’t know how to describe, “I’ve been thinking quite a lot about why I think you stopped speaking. And in the end I think you have survivor's guilt, you blame yourself over what happened with your aunt and somehow that’s translated into not talking.” Oh my god he’s known this this entire time and let me scroll through a shit ton of musicals to try to explain?! I nodded so hard I’m surprised my head didn’t fall off. “Now, listen to me very carefully, it is not your fault in any way what happened to May. Whatever scenarios you came up with in that silly little head of yours, you couldn’t have saved her.” 

That is when he pulled me into an embrace.

“And even if you could have,” he continued, “you can’t change what happened. Trying to kill yourself wont bring her back, it’s not a life for a life.” But it’s what I deserve. I wasn’t fishing for comfort, I just needed him to understand. I just didn’t want him in pain… is this how to get him out of pain? Me being out of pain?

Chapter Text

I did not start talking all the time, I didn’t even start full sentences right away. No, life just can’t be that simple. I didn’t even really start speaking much at all, even if maybe I should have. How am I supposed to know what’s selfish or not when what’s right for me is wrong for Mr. Stark?

But I can say that eventually “It’s Quiet Uptown” and “Dead Mom” turned to “Home” and “She Used To Be Mine”. I’m not sure if Mr. Stark was happier for the change in listening to the same songs all the time, or because he knew what that was saying about me. That doesn’t mean he didn’t keep his promise about “Dead Mom” though. 

It was while we were between movies that he spoke up, “hey Peteroo, can I talk to you for a sec?” Only once I nodded against where I was leaning my head on his shoulder did he continue, “remember when we were talking about that song, ‘Dead Mom’ and Happy called and interrupted?” I once again raised my head in a nod. “I wanted to circle back about that, I know you’re not in the same place as you were then but I still wanted to make sure I’m doing what’s best for you.”

God, I really screwed up that day, didn’t I?

He took a deep breathing before talking more, “I don’t ever want you to feel invalidated, especially by me. I know talking is still a struggle for you, and it’s okay to take your time.” I could never deserve him even if I lived three thousand lives. “But I do want you to try to communicate with me one way or another if you ever do feel invalidated by me, okay?” 

He really is trying so so hard, so much harder than I could ever ask or wish for. The least I can do is corporate. I nodded ‘yes’ yet again, and god he positively beamed at me. Who knew he could smile so brightly? With that, he pulled me closer and told Friday to play the next movie.

… 

When I imagined the first time being in the lab since before… “the accident”, I could never have dreamed of something so unusual ?

Yeah, it was normal for Mr. Stark and I to switch off playing music in the lab, that’s just how we’ve always done things. So obviously I would expect some AC/DC or Led Zeppelin like before, y’know? But what I did not expect was to hear the line “The plan was called ‘Operation D-Minus’” to begin to play. To say my eyes widened, would be an understatement. Honestly, I’m surprised my eyes still fit in their sockets. 

He actually laughed at me, “what?” He raised his hands in defense, “what’s wrong with me learning the musicals you like?” He smirked and I didn’t mean to smile but I didn’t quite find it in me to regret it when he switched from a snarky smirk to a genuine grin at me. 

Tinkering with some old robots and shit we gave up on before, nothing superhero related , Mr. Stark continued to play me what I’m sure were very carefully selected songs. Next was “I Am Here” and then “Anybody Have A Map”, but it was only at “You Will Be Found” that I teared up. Even I’m surprised I lasted that long. I can’t say for sure whether my mentor noticed or not, but I wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if his comforting hand on my shoulder was a coincidence.

I can’t say this is back to normal. Not even close. I can’t say this is even much like before. But I also can’t say that it’s bad or that I don’t like it, as selfish as that is.

… 

I really should not be surprised that the first time I actually laughed out loud was when Ned came for his regular LEGO building session. With the Millenium Falcon long since built, even with those pieces I used for the smiley face sitting proudly in Ned’s room, we moved onto the Imperial Star Destroyer. 

Of course The Empire Strikes Back was playing in the background while we put together the grand set. I would be disappointed if we didn’t.

It wasn’t even particularly funny, but something about how Ned recited the previously on Star Wars narration from memory in a funny voice just got me beaming. Upon seeing my amusement, he only upped the antics and actually gained a giggle from me at his ridiculousness. I’m sure it only made his pride grow. 

Mr. Stark must have protocols on me for literally everything because he seemed to have an extra pep in his step the rest of the day. Not that I’m complaining. 

… 

Mushing up my warm pancakes with my work, taking a bite every once in a while, I contemplated speaking up. With Mr. Stark on a stupid business call first thing in the morning, can they ever just give him a break? , it was only Happy and I sitting in the kitchen for breakfast. 

Though my phone was in my pocket giving me a chance to hide behind my music, how cliche would that be? I’ve already given all my apology songs to my mentor, what’s left for Happy? Not like he would know if I reused a song, but aren’t apologies supported to be personal?

After opening and closing my mouth more than a few times, and not for the delicious pancakes, I finally formed one single word. “Sorry…” I mumbled so quiet I’m not sure if he would hear. Though once his hand dropped, spilling his morning coffee I knew he had.

Maybe suddenly speaking up wasn't the best idea.  

“What?” He asked, voice almost quivering with shock. Cheeks burning and my eyes cast down I tried to repeats myself but it’s like my throat suddenly decided to close up. “You didn’t do anything.”

Now we all know that’s a lie. Keeping my head down as if it could hide my shame, I mumbled two little words, “‘m bad.”

Y’know, I could have said a million alternatives. Selfish, rude, cruel, self-centered, or literally anything else. But of course I had to pick the most childish one and say it in the most kiddish way. 

Though his eyebrows were furrowed, it wasn’t my choice was words that confused him, “you’re not bad, Peter. You haven’t done anything wrong, especially to me. You’re the most good kid I know.” If I wasn’t so lost right now I would have sassed back that I was one of the only kids he knows. 

Shaking my head I wanted to retort, I needed to, there’s a million and one reasons why I have been bad. But of course it’s when either my mind or my mouth, I dunno which anymore, decided that I’m out of words. I hit my quota for the day. First Mr. Stark doesn’t understand and now Happy. It’s not like they both don’t understand, they’re both so smart they can’t be so clueless… so am I the one who doesn’t understand?

I have been selfish, I know that. There’s no doubt in my mind that I have been. So why do neither of them agree when they’re the ones I’ve hurt the most?

I must have shown my confusion on my face because Happy continued, “you haven’t been acting like how you normally would before, that much is obvious, but that doesn’t mean you’ve been bad,” he said it so calmly, so casually. He continued again when I shook my head, “you’re not bad, far from it. You don’t have to apologize to me because you haven’t done anything to me, you haven’t hurt me.” 

I don’t know how to respond to that. But he didn’t seem to expect a response, instead clapping a hand on my back before going to clean up his spilled coffee. Neither of us said another word before Mr. Stark came back from his call. 

… 

I can’t do it, I can’t. I should have thought this through, I should have. I didn’t, I never do. I need to think, I can’t. There’s no other reasonable way. It’s my fault, my fault, my fault.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, Roo,” Mr. Stark wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his side. I knew if I tried to speak, I would only shorten the length of time it takes for me to break, for the tears to spring free. I barely managed a shrug before getting lost in my thoughts once again. Bad idea, bad, bad, bad. I didn’t think it through. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to see Aunt May’s grave but I didn’t even think… how didn’t I realize? It’s so obvious, it’s not like last time we went I wasn’t in the car.

I can’t avoid cars forever… 

But that doesn’t mean that today needs to be the day. Yeah I spent hours last night convincing myself to face her, or rather face her grave but still, I didn’t prepare myself for this . I’m so stupid, obviously we would have to take a car down to the cemetery, I can’t depend on Iron Man to fly me out every time I wanna go somewhere. 

“You don’t have to be ready yet, I won’t be disappointed if you’re not,” he tried to assure me again. Or maybe he was just trying to pull me from my thoughts. I shook my head, if I don’t do this now then I never will. If I’m weak now then I’ll always use the same excuse, always saying I’m not ready yet, I’m not ready yet, I’m not ready yet. But I’ll never be ready. He let out a deep breath, “okay, kid. I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to be, okay?” At my nod, he led me to the car where Happy was waiting. 

I could not help the tears that sprung in my eyes upon seeing the flowers Happy had in his hand.

Even if he won’t be disappointed in me , that doesn’t mean I won’t be disappointed in myself. I should be, I shouldn’t be so scared and yet I am. I shouldn’t be panicking and yet I am. I shouldn’t be like this and yet I am. Though, I only stopped in my tracks when I was only a few feet from the vehicle. I could ruin everything. I could lose Mr. Stark and or Happy just because I wanna see the grave of a dead person. I can add two more dead people to the list, add two more graves to visit… that’s not worth it.

That’ll always be a problem though. I can’t really go down there by myself, I can’t drive and that’s too far for Spider-Man. There will never not be risk… 

It was Happy who spoke up that time, “are you ready?” And after only a second more of hesitation, I nodded shakily. Mr. Stark barely let go of me to get in the backseat of the car before I was attaching myself to him once again. Hopefully he won’t be able to tell I used my Spider stickiness. 

My mentor whispered reassurances to me the entire car ride, but I kept my attention on everything outside the car. Every vehicle that wasn’t perfectly in the middle of their lane, every car that would not quite stop at the line when the light turned red, everything. Every little thing was dialed up to eleven but it wasn’t enough, I need to hear every sound, be aware of every minuscule thing out there. I can’t be unprepared again… 

Though there were many scares, we arrived at the cemetery with no incident. Thank god. 

Even so, I could not scramble out of that death trap fast enough. Once Mr. Stark was also out, he spoke up, “if you want I can come over with you to the grave, or I can wait here. I’m completely good either way.” 

As much as the childish part of me never wanted to be unglued from his side, the more mature side of me knew I need to do this on my own. Finally, I mumbled out, “alone.” And that’s all he needed to hear before he sat back in the car, only pausing to hand me the flowers Happy had retrieved for me earlier. But he still rolled down the window, I guess so he could hear me if I shouted out or something. He’s considerate like that. 

Step by painful step I made my way to the grave, I had to force myself to not crush the delicate flowers in my anxiously tight grip. God, I haven’t been here since the funeral, it feels like it’s been forever. It’s been for forever. Standing in front of the stone, I sunk to my knees and landed in the soft grass. I reached my hand out, gingerly brushing my fingers over the lettering, “hey Aunt May,” I choked out, not even above a whisper. She’s the only one I need to talk to even if it is selfish.

“Flowers,” I held them up as if she would give me that soft smile of hers. Maybe it would be like her smile she would always have on Mother’s Day, or what I would call Motherly Figures Day, when I would give her a flower and a cheesy card. But I’ll never see that smile again and that’s my fault, I should have protected her… 

My eyes cast down, though I placed the beautiful plant in front of the headstone as if that was the reason my gaze dropped. My voice came out so hoarse and strained, it sounded like when I lost my voice when I was ill before the spider bite, “do you blame me?” I asked as if she could really respond. Would she blame me? If I had told her about what really happened the night Uncle Ben died she probably wouldn’t have blamed me. Instead blaming being in the wrong place at the wrong time and innocent mistakes and that you can never really know outcomes until they happen.

But you can say all of that about this too. 

That’s probably the point. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt me.” That I know is true no matter what happened, whether it was my fault or somehow not. God, it feels so wrong to be talking so much. That is when the tears finally began to drip drip drip down my face. “You liked when I rambled,” a broken smile made its way onto my face, “you said it was cute when I talked so much.” 

I didn’t have it in me to wipe at the tears in my face, knowing more will definitely pour out anyway. “Would- would you-” my throat closed up when I tried to form the words. Would you be disappointed in how I’ve acted? Would you be upset in how I’ve treated myself and everyone around me? Would you have wanted me to start talking sooner? Would you want me to talk like normal again?

No, but saddened.

Yes, but not angry.

Maybe, but only when I was ready and over the shock.

Yes.

“We- you said,” I took a shaky breath before trying again, “after Uncle Ben died… you always said we’d learn a new happy,” I’m not sure what kind of smile was on my face, “you- I know you’d want me to learn a new happy ‘gain.” Reaching my hand out again, I closed my eyes with a shuddering breath, pretending she could reach her own hand out. Pretending she could hold me like before, like it could be like before. “‘M sorry…”

But I do have someone who would hold me right now if I asked. 

Looking over to where the car stayed within sight, there sat a man who’s treated me like my own. There’s someone who would hold me and tell me how much he loves me.

Pulling my gaze back to the grave, I whispered, “you’d want this.” This time it wasn’t a question. She’d want me to be with someone who would love me. Who does love me. She’d want me to find my new happy, even though I’ve made mistakes. 

… 

Curled up in bed, absolutely consumed in fluffy comforters, I kept my phone on the lowest volume while I played the music. Maybe this time it’ll work, maybe good music really can lead to good dreams… or at least less bad nightmares. God, if Mr. Stark knew I was listening to the song he picked for me, I know my face would never be the right shade again after blushing that much. 

“Have you ever felt like nobody was there?”

God, yes. Isn’t it crazy how you can have people there for you, multiple people even, and still feel completely utterly alone? How you can have people that actually want to be there for you and yet you couldn’t feel more lonely?

“Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?”

Always. After my parents died. After Skip. After the bullying started. After the bite. After Ben died. After Germany. After the homecoming fiasco. When the bullying never ended. After it all… 

“Have you ever felt like you could disappear?”

I was supposed to, I was going to. Just fade away and then everything could be okay for once. I was going to except Mr. Stark wouldn’t forget about me. He wouldn’t stop being there for me, he wouldn’t let me be forgotten. He wouldn’t let me disappear, he still won’t. Aunt May wouldn’t have wanted me to disappear, Ned doesn’t want me to, and Mr. Stark has made it clear there’s no way in hell he’s letting me. I can’t disappear with him taking care of me.

“Like you could fall, and no one would hear?”

I thought I could just fall and fall and fall into my bottomless pit. I thought I could let myself drown in the darkness and maybe that kind of suffocation is more like an exhale than a gasp. I thought I could let myself fall and maybe I wouldn’t have to hit the bottom, maybe I wouldn’t have to watch myself shatter into a million little shards, I could just keep falling.

“Well, let that lonely feeling wash away”

You make it sound so easy, Evan Hansen. You make it sound like it’s just dirt that can be washed away in the tub. But it’s not, it’s stained into me. Permanent splotches on me that no matter how hard you scrub they’ll never really leave. It’s a part of me, that hollow feeling. You can’t look at me without seeing the loneliness etched into me like cracks in a vase. 

“Maybe there's a reason to believe you'll be okay”

Mr. Stark… he’s a reason. He’s the reason. I wouldn’t be here without him, there’s no way. I would have starved to death in a week, dehydrated in days. I would have become the dust you walk on, I would have become nothing. I really would have disappeared but he didn’t let me. He made sure that I would hang on, he wrapped himself around me and kept me floating against the never ending waves like a life preserver. I mean, he is a superhero after all, the best one of all. 

“'Cause when you don't feel strong enough to stand

You can reach, reach out your hand”

That’s… that’s actually true for once. Just one word and he’d be at my side. Even without words he’d be at my side, he stayed with me even when I was silent. He reached out to me and now I can reach out to him. 

“And oh, someone will coming running”

Mr. Stark and Happy and Ned and god I have three people. Three people that care whether I’m here or not, three people that want me to want to be here. 

“And I know, they'll take you home”

Mr. Stark literally did. I’m in his home, I’ve been living here for what feels like forever. Can I call this my home now? I mean, he’s not my- I’m not his kid. Even though it may feel like it, I don’t actually belong to him. It’s not official or anything, not legal I don’t think. But I’m here. He opened his home to me and let me feel safe enough I actually can consider this a home. 

“Even when the dark comes crashing through”

All there was was dark. Just blackness, no light could penetrate. But my mentor, he never ceased to light matches. Even though we both knew the fire would run out, even if it was just for a moment there was light. And in that utter nothingness, any bit of light felt like the sun. 

“When you need a friend to carry you”

Or a superhero… 

“And when you're broken on the ground

You will be found”

I was broken. I was shattered into pieces so small I could never be put together the same way again. But I didn’t need to be the same as before, even so, I couldn’t have. But he found me, he helped me put my pieces together. Not all in the same places, no, but together. I may be more of a collage than a solid piece but I’m something. He helped me put myself back into something new.

“So let the sun come streaming in

'Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again”

I’m not risen, not yet, but I’m rising. I’m not in complete darkness anymore, there’s touches of sunlight. And there’s even days, I’m not just left in perpetual starless nights. My days may just be a breath or laughter or a lazy movie night, but that’s still light. Any amount of light helps beat out the shadows. And if I keep rising maybe I’ll be high enough to see the whole sun again.

“Lift your head and look around

You will be found

You will be found

You will be found

You will be found

You will be found”

I’ll never be able to hear that too many times. Even if I hear it three thousand times it still may not sink in enough, but then I’ll just need another three thousand times.

“There's a place where we don't have to feel unknown”

I am known here. Even when I’m impossible and confusing and unpredictable and nothing I do makes sense, they don’t leave me in the unknown. They made an effort to figure out how to communicate with the new me. They made an effort to get to know who I am now.

“And every time that you call out 

You're a little less alone”

I would have literally been dead if I didn’t call Mr. Stark that day. I would have been alone and just as gone as everyone in my family in that empty apartment if I didn’t call for help. God, I really would have died alone in an empty apartment… 

“If you only say the word 

From across the silence

Your voice is heard”

Even when I didn’t say a word he still heard me. He understood what I needed when I was blubbering on the phone and when I was curled up on his lap. Even when I didn’t let go of him for days in a row he understood and he heard me even in my silence.

“We're not alone, none of us, none of us

None of us are alone”

I didn’t use to believe that. But I’ve been wrong before… 

“Even when the dark comes crashing through

When you need a friend to carry you

When you're broken on the ground

You will be found”

Even when I was more broken and lost than I’ve ever been in my life, even when I was a suicidal mess, he found me.

“So let the sun come streaming in

'Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again

If you only look around

You will be found (You will be found)

You will be found (You will be found)

You will be found”

Maybe one day I’ll be risen again. Y’know, with all the new cracks in me now, there’s more room to let the light in.

“Out of the shadows

The morning is breaking

And all is new, all is new”

Even I can be new. Even someone as broken as me can be new.

“It's filling up the empty

And suddenly I see that

All is new, all is new”

God, it is… 

“You are not alone

You are not alone

You are not alone

You are not alone

You are not alone (You are not alone)

You are not alone (You are not alone)

You are not

You are not alone (You are not alone)”

I can see why Mr. Stark picked this song for me… 

“Even when the dark comes crashin' through

When you need someone to carry you

When you're broken on the ground

You will be found!”

He picked the right song.

“So when the sun comes streaming in

'Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again

If you only look around

You will be found”

I forced my eyes open when they fluttered shut, trying to hold on for the last few lines. 

“Even when the dark comes crashin' through

You will be found

When you need someone to carry you

You will be found

You will be found

You will be found”

Words echoing in my head, I sluggishly reached over and put my phone to sleep not even moving it off my bed, losing myself to sleep seconds later. 

… 

Staring at the Starkpad I told Mr. Stark I definitely don’t need, as if he would actually listen, I tried to make sense of the notes Ned sent. Thank god for Ned otherwise there’s no way I would be able to catch up in school, especially not with all the AP’s I’m in, was in? But why can’t Ned come over today, only seeing him every other weekend is way too far apart? Not just for him helping me with the notes, but for LEGO time, and to just see him, y’know. 

While I tried to not snap the stylus in my hand, my mentor strolled up to me, “you okay there, Petey Pie?” To which I huffed out a breath, I’m not sure if it was more at the endless equations on the screen or to his overly cute nickname. With a soft chuckle, he sat next to me on the couch, “there’s something I wanna talk to you about.”

Well that’s not terrifying at all.

Closing my tablet I turned to face the man next to me better. He took a deep breath before he began, “I don’t know if you remember but my lawyers have been working tirelessly to make sure there’s no legal repercussions of you staying with me.” How could I forget? I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t practically flicked off all those people in the hospital that day, saying his lawyers would be on it. 

“Well, my lawyers have continued to be working and they finally got the papers all sorted.” What is he talking about and why does he look so nervous? If it’s ‘sorted’ then why would he look so anxious, shouldn’t this be good news? “Peter, if you want, I can officially adopt you.”

Wait, wait. What? What the hell did he just say? He could- he wants to- oh my god! Yeah, I know I heard him talking to Happy about it that one day, but like… I didn’t actually think that he would really do it. I didn’t think he’d really want to- like, oh my god. 

I guess the look on my face wasn’t helping him, because the genius looked utterly lost for once, “what do you think?” 

I’m not sure if the tears started leaking out first or if I was lunging into his arms first. Either way he held me so so tight as I repeated, “yes, please yes, yes,” over and over and over and god his embrace has never felt so good before. 

He let out what I assume was a sigh of relief, “you’re my son,” he let out a wet laugh and for once neither of us were embarrassed to be crying. “God, Peter you’re my kid,” I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard him sound so blissful. And we stayed like that, shedding more than a few tears while holding each other for who knows how long before he got to his next topic.

“Another thing I wanted to talk to you about was school,” he started, still keeping me tucked into his side, fingers absentmindedly running through my hair, “obviously you’ve been working with Ned to try to catch up but you can’t exactly go to school from here.” I’ve been meaning to ask about that… “I still own Avengers Tower so I was wondering if you wanted to move in there?” He said it so casually as if that’s not literally every child’s dream. 

When I looked up at him, my eyes must have been comically wide because he let out a chuckle, “is that a yes then?” With my frantic nodding he got the message. “And since we’ll be in the city again you can see Ned more often.”

Wait. 

Instinctually I reached for my phone but I stopped myself before I could grab it, instead asking, “and Spider-Man?” 

He nodded, “yeah, if you want to, of course you can be Spider-Man again.” And that’s a big if. I don’t have a right to be him again, but New York still has a right to have someone looking out for the little guy. God, how many people have gotten hurt while I’ve been here? More people could be dead because I’m not there, oh my-

“Hey, hey,” he put two fingers under my chin, lifting them to raise my chin to look at him, “you do not have to be Spider-Man if you aren’t ready. What matters most is you and your mental health.” When I shrugged he continued, “you won’t be able to properly help anyone if you aren’t ready to be Spider-Man. What is best for you and for the citizens is for you to wait until you’re ready.” 

That makes sense… 

When I did not try to protest, he gave me a small grin, “movie night tonight?” At my smile he knew what my answer was. Even though it wasn’t time for dinner yet, he still stayed with me. While I busied myself with seemingly endless homework he busied himself with SI emails, and it was nice. 

It was during that, us just being and living that I whispered so quiet I wasn't sure he even heard at first, “I love you.” 

And after a kiss on my head, he replied with a wet voice, “I love you too, kid.”