Ned is chilling on Tony Stark's porch, staring out at the breathtaking lake view, and the entire Avengers team is enjoying their afternoon in front of him. Like, seriously, what even is his life right now?
He still can't quite get over the fact that he met so many of his heroes today, and they even know his name. Like, come on, pinch him, because this has to be a dream, right?
Coming back from the snap feels like everything’s different and the same all at once.
His friends are still the same (okay, he only had two, so the chances of them all being snapped were much better than someone who had dozens of friends, but still, who cares? They’re all together and still in the same class).
His dad and brother didn’t get snapped, so when he came back, they were right where he left them, not even his room had changed.
Everything’s the same, so it should be fine.
So many people are currently homeless, orphans, completely lost.
Yet, sometimes, he thinks about his dad’s grief-stricken face, how it twists with worry when one of them doesn’t answer right away, or the days when his brother’s eyes just seem... lost.
That’s when the cracks start to show. But mostly, Ned feels insanely lucky. He got the best deal possible.
And, Tony Stark went from being just his best friend's mentor to something more like a dad.
Knowing that helps Ned sleep at night.
He thinks about his brave best friend, the one who now flinches at loud noises in school, the one who came back from a war and almost lost another dad. This friend now has a family, one that's helping him through all of this.
These thoughts, most days, keep Ned from letting the darkness take over his heart.
The darkness that makes him wonder how anyone could be so twisted to think wiping out half of humanity was a good idea. The darkness that makes him bitter about a world that kept moving forward while he wasn’t there.
His brother graduated with empty seats next to his dad, robbing Ned of the chance to himself raw from pride.
His dad took up gardening, and Ned missed out on laughing at those first failures and then celebrating his first successes.
He felt bitter toward his school for just continuing, carrying on with classes and events, letting life roll on while Ned, MJ, and Peter were missing from the hallways, laughing together and planning movie nights.
But then, Ned would look at Peter, who had been through so much and somehow came out brighter on the other side.
He clung to that, determined not to fall into a pit of grief he wasn’t allowed to have. After all, he wasn’t the one who had to live through the aftermath of the snap.
Ned loves Peter, not just as a best friend, but as a brother. Peter’s wins are his wins, and Peter’s losses hit him just as hard.
That’s exactly why Ned is sitting on Tony Stark’s porch right now, instead of hanging out in the garden, enjoying a barbecue whipped up by none other than Sam Wilson and the Winter Soldier.
Because right now, Ned kind of hates himself.
He knows deep down that Peter Parker is going to be one of the most important people in his life forever. But sometimes, when he looks at Peter, this ugly feeling creeps up, making him feel gross inside, and he just hates himself so much for it.
He looks out and fights to hold back his tears.
Today, when he saw Peter laughing and carefree, Ned couldn’t help but feel like a jerk, the worst kind of friend, someone who doesn’t deserve Peter.
Because all he could think about was how Peter didn’t have to worry if his family would have enough money to get through the month. If there would be enough food tomorrow.
The truth is, being so close to the poverty line had been what brought them together, the foundation of their friendship.
Both scholarship kids, they’d lived paycheck to paycheck, making their own games to have fun despite the constant stress that haunted their homes.
Peter doesn’t have to stress about his future anymore, about how he’s going to find his way in a world that’s flooded with people who’ve come back. With unemployment rates at an all-time high.
Peter Parker’s been through hell and back, weathered some of the harshest storms, fought his way through them, and came out better every time.
The Peter Ned sees now has a stable home, a girlfriend, and a support system that’s so solid, nothing could shake it.
Ned feels this wave of self-loathing wash over him.
He’s so genuinely happy for Peter, but there’s this sadness that won’t go away, no matter what he does.
The cold, hard truth is that Ned feels left behind, forgotten.
He never once wished any of the crap that happened to Peter and his family. It never brought any kind of sick comfort like “my life could be worse, look at Peter’s” or anything like that.
He’s always believed, with every fiber of his being, that his best friend’s future would be very bright.
But now, with all these great things happening in Peter’s life, all Ned can do is think about himself, be selfish, ask himself what these changes mean for him.
What kind of shitty friend does that make him?
All their lives, whenever things got tough; when grief tried to drown them, they created their world, their future, always side by side, never alone.
When hunger, fear, cold, bullying, or whatever crap life threw at them, knocked on the door of their childhood bedrooms, they always could hide in each other’s homes. Even when they were dealing with the same things daily.
He doesn’t think Peter’s forgetting about him or anything like that. It’s just…
How’s he supposed to keep up with someone like Peter Parker? Peter’s this brilliant light that shines even in the darkest times.
He hugs himself, trying to make sense of all these messy emotions inside of him.
He knows he’s jealous.
It’s not that he doesn’t want great things happening to Peter. Of course he does. It’s just that he hates that those things aren’t happening for him, too.
But there’s also this grief he can’t shake.
It makes no sense, he feels silly for thinking of it that way. Like, what right does he have to grieve when he didn’t lose anything?
But that’s exactly what it feels like, he can’t find a better name for it.
It’s like he’s lost his only partner in dreams, while life just keeps kicking him down.
Peter was already so beaten up by life, hurt so deeply, and some things left him broken, losing Ben, being so hungry for so long when his house started to only have one paycheck.
But now Peter’s living a life that’s going in a totally different direction. They don’t share the same struggles anymore, and their worlds just don’t line up like they used to.
Ned feels haunted by this crushing feeling of loneliness. Like he could be right there with Peter, finally at the stage when things start looking up, if only he were better.
But instead, he’s stuck, left behind, just dreaming about the better days.
Now, when Ned looks at Peter, he doesn’t see a guy barely keeping his head above water.
He sees someone who’s found a boat—no, the best boat out there. Peter’s shining, brighter than ever, and Ned loves seeing it, but it kills him that they’re so far apart.
He’s still struggling to breathe.
And the question that keeps haunting his thoughts is if Peter’s moving forward and Ned’s still stuck, does that mean he’s never going to make it out?
He always knew, with all his heart, that Peter would shine, and that made him believe that he would too. How could he not, with Peter always saying, over and over again, that they were in it together?
But now, they’re not, and Ned’s losing faith really fast.
When he hears his family’s muffled cries at night, or when his parents pretend they’re not hungry because his dad’s paycheck can’t stretch far enough to feed all five of them.
When his little sister keeps asking why their big brother’s never around, only for him to come home late at night, shaking his head after another day of failed job search.
That’s when Ned starts to give up on the hope of the sun ever shining upon them.
Now, his best friend is living in Manhattan, in a new apartment with May and Happy, and that safe haven is too far away from Ned.
“You know...”
A voice cuts through his session of self-pity and self-loathing, and Ned jolts when he notices War Machine is seated beside him, looking him straight in the eye.
“Sometimes, being Tony Stark’s best friend is so fu… freaking tough.”
Ned’s feeling confused. Why is he talking to him? And why is he sharing something personal?
Mr. Rhodes doesn’t seem to care about Ned’s confusion whatsoever.
“Being close to people like Tony Stark, like Peter Parker,” he emphasizes, locking eyes with Ned, “is like living in the shadow of a supernova. They shine so bright, that when you look at yourself, all you can see are the things you’re not. You feel like you’ll never be able to measure up.”
Ned’s eyes widen in shock.
Are his feelings that obvious? Can everyone here see how jealous and self-centered he is?
Are they looking at him and thinking “What a shit friend, look at that, only thinking about him, him and him, what is he even doing in Peter’s life?”
“I’m not unhappy about all the awesome things going on with Peter. All I ever wished was for things to get better for him, he deserves it.”
“I’m not saying you are,” Mr. Rhodes reassures him, his gaze soft. Ned feels his face flushing with shame.
“But isn’t that what jealousy is all about? Wishing the worst on people?”
“I never wanted bad things to happen to Tony, or that he lost the good things he had. That doesn’t change the fact that being his friend was, and is, hard.”
Mr. Rhodes lowers his voice, like he’s sharing a secret, and maybe he is.
Ned’s a bit perplexed about why War Machine chose him to talk about something so personal when there are plenty of better options around, but he listens closely anyway.
“Back in college, I spent every spare second studying, while Tony was barely ever in the dorm, always out partying, enjoying life, doing his thing. He was young, but he was already my best friend, even with all his craziness, because his heart was always in the right place.”
He smiles, looking lost in the memories.
“The thing is, since we were so close, I got a front-row seat to how easily he wowed everyone, aced every class without even trying, charmed all the teachers, got invited to all the best parties with the best crowds. I couldn’t even hate him for it because I was genuinely happy for all the cool stuff he was doing, the places he was going. But at the same time, I’d look at myself and feel like crap, knowing I’d never measure up, never go as far, especially compared to Tony.”
Ned swallows hard; these words hit close to home like they could’ve come straight from his own mouth.
“I hated myself, and one day, I got drunk and spilled everything to Tony, poured my heart to the guy. You know what he told me?” Ned shakes his head.
“He told me he felt like crap when he looked at me because I seemed so focused and put together. I didn’t have a lot of connections, but the ones I did have were deep. He said he felt like I had life all figured out, and he was just faking it.”
It’s hard for Ned to picture Tony Stark as anything other than super confident.
“On the outside, everything tends to look better than what’s going on inside us,” Mr. Rhodes continues.
And Ned wants to laugh at that. He doubts anyone could look at him and think for a second, “well, things a going great for that loser, I wish I was him.”
“Even now, I still have these talks with Tony.” Mr. War Machines keeps going. “I mean, look around, he guy fought his fight, saved the world, and now he’s passing the torch, and settling down with his wife and two perfect kids. And here I am, a lapdog for the United States, going back every day to an empty apartment. No one’s waiting for me.”
“Why are you telling me all this, Mr. Colonel?” He finally finds the courage to ask.
Mr. Rhodes gives him a small smile.
“Because I know you’re a good guy, Leeds. And I know what it’s like to be stuck inside your own head, hating yourself for being jealous of your best friend.”
Ned is nervous about the idea of opening up, sharing what’s been eating at him for months at this point. But Mr. Rhodes did it, and maybe he needs to do the same.
He lets his fingers play with the loose threads at the end of his shorts, fidgeting as he considers how to start.
“It’s just that… all my life, I’ve felt like I was stuck on the bottom rung of the ladder, always looking up at everything my family and I couldn’t reach. But then there was Peter. Peter’s the reason I never felt alone. He wasn’t living some life that was so far away from mine that I could only dream about it. No, Peter was right there with me, looking up too.”
Ned feels tears welling up, and Mr. Rhodes places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I never had to be ashamed of my life or my dreams when I was with Peter,” Ned continues, his tears now freely flowing.
He can’t find in himself the strength to stop them, not now that he is pouring everything.
“Because he always got it. We always had to fight together for better lives, to give our families a better future. And now I feel like trash because when I look at Peter, I feel lonely. I look around, and I’m the only one left on that step.”
He’s finally said it out loud, and he doesn’t know if he is relieved or scared for saying out loud every horrible thing going inside of him.
Mr. Rhodes leans in and whispers, “You know, I get lonely too, and I feel left behind sometimes. Maybe we could start something together, huh? And if you’re thinking about your future, I could show you the ropes in the military.”
Ned looks up, shocked.
Is War Machine really suggesting he could mentor him? He must’ve misunderstood.
“We’ve to start somewhere, right?” Mr. Rhodes says with a small smile.
“A good friend of mine once said everything started looking up when he got a personal intern or something.”
For the first time since the snap, a smile full of hope crosses Ned’s face.
This doesn’t erase his family’s daily struggles or the emotional scars they carry, but maybe it means Ned isn’t as stuck as he thought, isn’t being left behind to drown.
Someone sees him.
What Ned doesn’t know is that Peter saw how life was trampling his best friend. He noticed Ned’s sad, lost looks and realized this was something he couldn’t fix on his own.
So, Peter asked for help.
He went to his dad and asked for the kind of help his best friend couldn’t ask for right now.
Peter would never forget those days after Ben’s death when Ned kept bringing him water bottles because Peter didn’t have the energy to move. He remembered how Ned would sneak homework answers into his bag, finishing them during class, so Peter wouldn’t have to worry.
When Peter felt voiceless, Ned made his voice twice as loud, speaking up for both of them. Now, it was Peter’s turn to do the same for Ned.
So, Peter asked Tony for help, and Tony came through.
He planned the whole barbecue, not for people to see Peter, but for people to see Ned, people who were there to support him.
When Ned felt like Peter was moving away from that step, he thought he was being left behind. But the truth was, Peter was just making room for all the people who were there for him to step onto Ned’s step too, to help him climb higher.
Peter wasn't abandoning his best friend. That was for sure.
Before Peter went to bed that night, he hugged Tony a little tighter, letting himself enjoy the warmth of his dad.
“Ned’s gonna be okay, right?”
Peter whispers into his dad’s shoulder, feeling Tony’s gentle fingers running through his hair.
Seeing Ned smile, cry, and open up to someone, seeing him not be the empty shell he’d been lately, was like watching the sun rise again after months of darkness.
“Of course he will, Pete,” Tony whispered back, pressing gentle kisses on Peter’s forehead.
“Then I’m gonna be okay, too.”
If Ned can’t find hope in the middle of all that grief, what chance does Peter have? To survive the PTSD? The nightmares from facing Thanos? The days when the sobs just wouldn’t stop? The phantom pain of disintegrating into dust and being aware of every second of it?
But if Ned’s okay, then Peter will be okay, because his guy in the chair would never leave him behind.
“You will, Pete, you will,” Tony assures him.