The argument had escalated quickly—loud voices, hurtful words, all of it swirling around Peter until he couldn’t breathe. Tony and May were shouting at each other in the living room, their frustration spilling over in a way Peter had never seen before.
The worst part? He knew this was his fault. His behavior, his anger, his inability to just listen. He had lashed out, not just at Tony, but at Aunt May too. All of it because he’d been overwhelmed, trying to juggle being Spider-Man and living up to everyone’s expectations. But hearing the tension in their voices, seeing the hurt in their eyes—it shattered him.
He’s going to kill me…
His heart pounded as he silently backed away from the door. He couldn’t stand hearing them like this, couldn’t stand the weight of it all pressing down on him. So, he did what he always did when things felt out of control—he ran.
He stumbled into his room, slamming the door behind him, his legs giving out as he slid down to the floor. His back pressed against the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself—his breathing shallow, his chest tight as the panic set in.
It’s my fault. I made them fight. He’s going to kill me. I’m not good enough for them. They’re going to hate me.
His thoughts were a blur, every second making him feel smaller, more insignificant. The guilt gnawed at him, heavy and suffocating. The shame twisted in his stomach as tears began to well up in his eyes. His hands trembled as they gripped his arms, trying to hold himself together, but it was no use. The panic had taken hold.
What if I lose them? What if they don’t forgive me? What is he gunna do to me?
The pressure in his chest increased, and he could feel the walls closing in. His breaths came faster, more frantic. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think clearly. The room spun around him, the anxiety threatening to overwhelm him completely. His breath hitched.
He’s gunna kill me. He’s gunna kill me. He’s gunna kill me. He’s gonna kill me…
The knock on the door was barely audible through the pounding in his ears. Peter didn’t hear it at first. But then the door creaked open, and Bucky stepped in, his presence calming despite the storm inside Peter’s head.
“Peter?” Bucky’s voice was soft, concerned. He took one look at Peter and immediately understood what was happening. He knelt beside him, his gaze steady and warm. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe with me.”
Peter’s chest hitched, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wanted to tell Bucky that it was all too much, that he didn’t know how to fix it. But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. All he could do was clutch at his knees and try to keep from falling apart.
Bucky didn’t push him to speak. Instead, he placed a hand gently on Peter’s shoulder, a steady weight that grounded him. “I know it feels like the world is crashing down right now,” Bucky said quietly. “But you’re not alone. You’re never alone in this.”
Peter’s eyes squeezed shut, laying his head back against the wall, his body trembling. He felt so small, so weak. “I ruined everything,” he whispered hoarsely, the words barely audible. “I made them fight. It’s my fault.”
“No, Peter.” Bucky’s voice was firm, yet soft, as if he were speaking to a fragile piece of glass. “You’re not the reason they’re fighting. Arguments happen. People get upset. But you don’t carry the weight of everyone’s emotions on your shoulders.”
Peter’s breaths were still shallow, but Bucky’s steady tone made him want to listen, to believe him. “I… I don’t want them to be mad at me,” Peter admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want them to leave.”
Bucky nodded slowly, understanding in his eyes. “They won’t. I promise you that. May and Tony, they love you, Peter. No argument is going to change that. They’re frustrated, sure, but they’ll come around. They’ll want to talk to you. You’re their family.”
Peter felt a tear slip down his cheek, but for once, it wasn’t just out of fear. It was the relief of hearing someone remind him that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
“I don’t know how to fix it,” Peter whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to fix everything,” Bucky said, his voice soft and reassuring. “You just need to show up. Be there. Apologize if you need to, but don’t blame yourself for things that are out of your control. You’re allowed to make mistakes, Peter. You’re allowed to not have all the answers.”
The words seemed to sink into Peter, pushing aside some of the anxiety that had been suffocating him. He felt a little lighter, his breathing evening out, though the tightness in his chest hadn’t completely disappeared.
Bucky smiled gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You just need a little time to calm down.”
Peter took a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “Thanks, Bucky. I… I needed that.”
“Anytime, kid,” Bucky said with a grin. “Now, how about we go talk to Tony and May? They’re probably just as worried about you as you are about them.”
Peter hesitated for a moment, but with Bucky’s reassurance, he felt a flicker of courage. Maybe things wouldn’t be perfect right away, but they could work through it. Together. He wasn’t alone.
“Yeah. I think I’m ready.” Peter stood up slowly, wiping his eyes, and with a deep breath, he opened the door. It was the first step in fixing what he’d broken, but it was a step forward. And that was enough for now.