Navigating
I can't seem to turn the page
This haze around my face makes me feel all alone
Peter stood in the doorway to the main room. He couldn’t get out of this cycle. Of trying to avoid them, and then not sleeping. He had tried to hang out with them but it was draining. Exhausting. He felt like he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to have friends. Have people who wanted to hang out with him. Not only because he’d killed so many. But also because he’d get them all killed too..
I know you see me standin' still
Tony looked to Peter in the doorway. Frowning softly. The kid had been standing there for a minute. Not even Nat or Clint had noticed. He was perfectly still. Clutching onto the doorframe like his body was trying to resist joining the group.
But when our fingers touch, I feel my way back home
Tony held out a hand for Peter to join them. Which then, of course drew their attention to Tony’s hand and by extension, Peter.
Peter looked at the hand. It felt like home. Which he hated. May was his home. And May was being kept in a glorified ice box because he’d gotten her killed. He didn’t deserve to have Tony. He didn’t deserve to have a home. He slowly backed out the doorway at first. Before darting off. Tapping the little spider on his chest as his suit materialised. Swinging into the surround forest to hide his alter ego from the group. Making his way to Queens.
Pardon my delay
I'm navigating,
“Peter!” Tony shouted. “FRIDAY pull up the tracker-“ Tony called. Worry now growing in the pit of his stomach. Was he going to? No.. surely not. But. What if he was? That was something that Tony couldn’t let happen. He let his own suit materialise around him.
I'm navigating my head
It took Tony an hour to find him. Which was impressive on Peter’s part given Tony had the tracker pulled up. When he landed on the roof of the old Avengers tower, Tony stepped out the suit and spoke up with his hands out. Even if Peter couldn’t see them. “Kid.. kid why don’t you just come back from that ledge”
Peter was sat with his legs dangling off the building. Looking at the city below. “I’m not gonna jump..” Peter chuckled. Although it sounded hollow.
‘So he’s thinking? About what?’
Disassociate
Tony walked over slowly, sitting down beside the boy. “So what’s on your mind?” Tony asked. “Nightmares, lack of sleep. You stand there dissociated for the most of your day, kid.”
Give me some advice
I am wasting all this time
Peter thought for a moment. “I don’t know..” he whispered. “Everything? But then nothing too. Like.. I’m thinking about the idea of suicide. But then.. I’m not at the same time. I’m thinking about why I’m such a mess but then.. I’m not. It- everything and nothing. The moment I get a hint of a thought, it goes and I’m just left sitting here.”
Tony nodded softly, wrapping an arm around Peter’s waist protectively. “We can get you some help?”
“I don’t deserve it..”
“Of course you do, Kid. What else is on your mind?”
Peter didn’t answer.
Pardon my delay
“Sorry I’m late, lost track of time doom scrolling.” Peter plucked the excuse from thin air.
I'm navigating, I'm navigating my head
He, in fact, was not doom scrolling. Peter pulled the razor apart in the bathroom. Sitting on the tiled floor. Fishing out the three long, sharp pieces of metal from the blade. He stuffed the plastic casing in his pocket. The blades on his lap as he reached to grab some toilet roll. Folding that up and setting it down on his lap. Rolling up the sleeve to his jumper and looking down at the skin.
It had a few scars littered on it. Self harm from when Ben died that he accidentally done a little too deep. But he was able to play it off as scuffs with knife wielding robbers when Tony eventually asked. And hid it from May.
This time though, he wasn’t scared to go deep. He didn’t care enough to keep them shallow. He could hide them easily enough until they healed and then he could just tell those same lies to Tony when they scarred over.
Bringing one of the blades to his arm, he pushed down hard, and pulled back fast. Seeing the white fatty flesh underneath at first. Before the area began to pool with blood. It was surprisingly slow all things considered. Taking the toilet paper, he dabbed the corner of it into the cut to soak up the blood, before hacking at the cut again. Until it got to a depth that would definitely need stitches, but Peter didn’t care. Not enough to act anyway. His healing abilities could fix it.
He done it four more times. Leaving him with five deep gashes on his arm. Looking down to them. The shaking in his hand had calmed significantly. “Pete?” He heard a call from his bedroom door. Silently, he opened the bathroom door, sticking his head out so his voice wouldn’t sound muffled and worry Tony.
“What’s up?” He called
“Movie night, films about to start? You joining us?”
“Yeah! Be out in five!” He called. Before silently shutting the door once again and grabbing the bandages he’d stolen from medbay. These would have to last him a few days until the cuts healed. He couldn’t go swiping a new roll every day. Bruce would get suspicious. So, to try and save the bandage, he grabbed some more tissue paper, folding it up a few times and resting it over the cuts. Using some medical tape to keep it in place while he bandages his arm tight.
He knew the paper would get stuck in the cuts. But he could just clean it out daily. He’d be fine..
Disassociate
Tony had kept a close eye on Peter through the night. He could have sworn he saw something fraying under the sleeve but he didn’t want to raise alarm. He’d ask about it tomorrow.
Or well he would have. If Peter wasn’t stuck in this dissociative state the entire time. No one seemed to notice, it looking like Peter was just very into the movie. Deep in the fictional world. But Tony knew better.
He waited five minutes after the group had went back to their respective bedrooms before going to check on Peter.
I'm navigating, I'm navigating my head
Give me some advice
I am wasting all this time
Peter had gotten lazy. Already. He’s already gotten fucking lazy and it was his downfall. Sitting on his bed. Bandage discarded on the duvet with the bloodied tissue paper in the bin, he held the blade back down to his arm with a plan to do another five. He’d most likely run out of room, but he figured he could move onto his thigh.
Half way through the second, his door opened without a knock. And he was sat, facing the door. Unable to hide the mutilation he’d done to his body. Tears welled at his eyes. Not looking at who was at the door. If it wasn’t Mr. Stark, they’d tell him. And he’d never be able to trust Peter again. There was a small whimper of a sob that left his body as he heard the door gently close. Then the sound of feet moving closer. Peter instinctively dropping the blade, grabbing the bandage and holding the cut up arm to his chest. Using the bandage to try and hide it.
He saw a familiar hand grab his wrists. Gently moving the bandage away and lowering his cut up arm so the other could see. And Peter couldn’t fight it. He willed to fight it but his body wouldn’t listen. “Pete..” there was a whisper. It sounded like Mr. Stark.
And Peter crumbled again. For.. he didn’t know how many times he’d sobbed in Tony’s arms since he arrived. But it was just another to add to the tally. God why was he so weak? “talk to me kid.. what’s going on?”
“I don’t know-“ he choked out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“ he sobbed. Clinging to him. Hidden in Tony’s shoulder as he apologised repeatedly. He tried to pull the bloody arm away to keep the blood from touching Tony’s shirt. But he only held the teen tighter. Hand combing through his hair. Pulling Peter into his lap, shushing him gently and whispering sweet nothings about how Peter would be okay. About how it would all work out. Peter wasn’t convinced
’What else is on your mind kid? Peter remembers Tony asking on the roof of the tower.
Don’t know how long it’s been
Since I responded to your question
If you really want to know what I'm thinkin'
Kind of feels like everybody leaves
Feelin' the reality that everybody leaves
My friend just lost his mom, I think that everybody leaves
And now I'm tryin' to hold onto you 'cause everybody leaves
“I’m the reason everyone died- may, Ben, the kid on the bridge, the ferry, the vulture. What if I get you all killed too..”
I'm navigating, I'm navigating my head
Disassociate
Peter sat at the dining room table working on autopilot. Looking at the books from funeral directors spread out covering the table and he wanted to cry again. He slipped away from whatever reality he had left. That familiar haze covering his vision and looking down to the book in front of him. Not reading. Just staring.
I'm navigating, I'm navigating my head
Give me some advice
Tony and Pepper watched from the doorway, an arm securely around Peppers waist as they watched the boy stare down at the book. Tony frowned with a sigh, and slowly walked over to the table. Pulling out a chair and sitting beside him. Taking one of Peter’s hands in his own which brought the boy back to reality a bit. “You don’t have to do this alone, kid..”
He felt another body sit on the other side of him. And another hand, softer then Tony’s grab his left hand. He figured it was Pepper. And was right when she spoke up. “We can help with.. you tell us what she’d like and we can do it for you..”
Peter felt his eyes well up with tears again nodding slowly.
I am wasting all this time My, oh my