Fake Happy
There is a difference between trying and succeeding.
Peter has known that for all his life. For instance, he tries to pretend like he’s okay but in reality, he’s not. He tries to forget that he’s lost most of his family and he pretends that he’s not waiting for the moment he loses the rest. He pretends that he’s fine and that there isn’t a constant buzz in the back of his head that says he’s not good enough and why does he deserve to be so different?
Peter recalls his life before meeting Tony. Ben had recently died, and May and him were struggling to make ends meet. May had to sell their apartment, and for a time, everything was a little shaky as they lived in a friend's living room, living on too little to afford their place. Her friend's apartment was lovely, but it was too tiny for them and her. They had no choice but to go, and the only option left was a homeless shelter.
Peter declined to go to Ned's, despite May's insistence. He refused to let her do this on her own. He couldn't bear the thought of sleeping on the air mattress in Ned's room with the heater on full blast as his aunt battles to keep warm in the cold breeze whilst sleeping in a tight room with only a thin blanket.
May was able to find new work with a substantially greater salary a month or two after living like this. Not only that, but Peter began to make money as Spider-Man, despite telling May that he'd been 'tutoring' some younger kids. She took the bait, and with their combined funds - largely May's, as Peter's money was set aside for 'luxuries' - they bought their apartment and have been living in it ever since.
It wasn't the most beautiful location or even the nicest apartment, but it was home, and that was enough. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom and that’s all they ever needed. There were cracks in the walls and mould on the ridges, and the ceiling looked like it might cave in at any moment. The heating wasn't great, either, and even if it was, they couldn't afford to use it much.
But at least they had a place of their own.
Money was limited and when you went to a school like Midtown, it set you aside. Everyone had it and if you didn’t, you were an outcast. Peter was on a scholarship and that meant if his grades slipped then he was out – and there were no special circumstances. Keeping up with this, as well as Spider-Man, his many after-school clubs he signed up for, and grieving the man that raised you… Peter was only getting by on pure adrenaline. He was waiting for the moment it might drop.
Peter wasn’t sleeping properly but he had to keep up appearances. He had to try and pretend that he wasn’t crumbling on the inside because he knew he had no right to give up – right? He had it much better than other people did so he shouldn’t complain. He had to be strong for May- because she was all he had left. And he was all she had.
Peter felt like a zombie most days. Wake up, go to school, study a little, come home, go on patrol- maybe get stabbed- and then come home again and pretend like everything was okay. He’d go to bed past midnight and wake up at 6 AM. He was tired, losing weight rapidly without enough food to keep up with his new metabolism, and mentally strained.
Life began to become cyclical and Peter was begging for something to change.
Then he met Tony.
Tony had everything. He was the opposite of what Peter was – but they were also too alike. He took Peter to Germany and gave him a glimpse of a different life, but then it was all over and Peter was back into the same routine. He tried his best to pretend like it hadn’t hurt, but he felt like he couldn’t do this for much longer.
He text Happy to see if they were any missions available because it felt like he was finally good at something. But Happy hadn’t replied and Peter felt incredibly alone. When May had her night shifts, he’d sit in his room with the light off. He tried to sleep but he couldn’t. He’d stare up at the ceiling and beg for his life to change because surely it wasn’t meant to feel like this.
Peter was sitting on top of a tower one evening in Queens. He had been on patrol for a while and without much more to do (it was a quiet evening), he thought he’d take a look out at the city. He sat there in silence with his legs dangling off the side. He stared down at the floor. What if, he thought. What if he fell? Would he stop himself with a web or would he let go and let himself hit the ground?
He recoiled, leaning back, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Of course, he’d stop himself from falling. He wasn’t thinking right. He didn’t want to end his life. He’d never thought about that before and he wasn’t now. It wouldn’t be fair to May… but why was that the only thing stopping him?
Peter suddenly felt sick. He climbed down and got to the floor. He struggled to find his legs, feeling as if he had just climbed off a boat. Stood in an alleyway with his mask up to his nose to throw up, he looked up at the stars and wondered when this had become his reality. He couldn’t breathe. He rubbed his hand against his chest, his breathing so fast he thought he might pass out. What was happening to him? He was worried he was having a heart attack – that something was wrong.
Scared out of his mind, he dialled Happy’s number. It rang three times and then stopped. Peter tried again, his hands shaking. This time it went through but it wasn’t Happy on the other side of the phone.
“Kid, Happy’s getting angsty and he’s taking it out on me. Please stop contacting him with all your stories about churros and cats. He’ll contact you when it’s something important,” the person said.
It took Peter only a few seconds to realise it was Tony. Tony’s voice was something familiar. He knew that voice- it let him breathe for a second. Peter struggled to keep the phone in his hand. He sat on the floor, placed the phone on speaker, and rested his head against the brick behind him.
“….Pete?” Tony said. His voice was a bit higher. Was he worried? He heard other people in the background of the call. Were they at a party? A gala? Or was it just them? Peter focused on that. He focused on the sounds and managed to stop his heart from moving any faster. “Peter, what’s up? Are you okay?” the sounds faded. Peter listened to Tony’s footsteps.
Peter gasped. “My heart- I don’t know- something’s wrong. I can’t breathe. I’m sorry- I- I didn’t want to bother Happy, I’m just scared- I-,” he rambled, breathing in and out – and in and out he just tried to get himself under control. “I’m sorry,” he said again, wet drops coming out from his eyes and wetting his cheeks.
“Where are you?” Tony asked.
“Don’t know- I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Peter cried out.
He was shaking badly and he didn’t understand why. All he could think of was that drop and how it would feel. Would people be sad? He grasped at his suit, feeling claustrophobic. Hearing his own heart scared him and he didn’t know what to do. Tony was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“Peter!” Tony said. Was he panicking? “I’m tracking you now, kid. Can you hear me? I’m on my way,” he told him.
Peter looked up at the sky and took a deep breath in. He nodded, forgetting Tony couldn’t see him. He tried his best to calm himself down but he couldn’t manage it. He was lucky nobody was around as he threw his mask completely off, finding himself too scared to keep it on. It helped momentarily to feel the breeze against his hair. Although, seconds later, he still found himself feeling everything – he couldn’t move and it was all too much.
Minutes later- or was it seconds- who knew how long it had really been, he heard a loud noise a few metres from him. His head turned quickly in its direction and saw the Iron Man suit standing there. Like it had been when he rescued him from the lake, he assumed Tony wasn’t inside it. He tried to move towards it but it felt as if he was paralysed. He didn’t know what was wrong with him but he needed help. Would Tony take him to the doctor?
Tony suddenly came out of the suit, surprising him. Through his blurred visions from all the tears, he saw him coming towards him. He knelt on the dirty ground and placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Kid? Jesus- right, okay. I’ve got this- okay. Breathe,” he said. He took in a deep breath himself and pressed one hand against Peter’s heart. “Like me, Peter. Take a deep breath in,” he told him and Peter did as he was told. “That’s it, that’s good.”
They sat like that for a while, Peter copying Tony as he took one deep breath in and then let it all out. After a while, his heart calmed down and Peter was so, so, confused. He thought that he was having a heart attack but now it didn’t hurt that much at all. He looked at Tony, confused, as he reached out to grasp the mask. He went to put it on to hide his red face, but Tony stopped him.
“Are you okay?” he said.
“Yeah- uh- fine. I’m fine, I mean. I just- my heart hurt. Sorry for making you come all this way for nothing,” he told Tony. He looked around and then at the Iron Man suit, careful not to make eye contact. He was too embarrassed. “I won’t call Happy again, sorry. Uh- I should probably go home now so May doesn’t think I’m missing.”
“Hey- no- I’m sorry. You should be able to call me or Happy if you need help in any way. I shouldn’t have just dropped you after you helped me out, kid,” Tony said. When Peter furrowed his eyebrow, confused as to why Tony even cared. “After you saved my plane, and saved our asses in the process. I could’ve reached out and done something, but I just left you, and for that I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Peter shrugged. He had so much going on in his head and his life that he hadn’t had any time to think about it. It was fine, and he was fine, and everything was fine. The word fine started to feel weird in his head. “I shouldn’t have called; it wasn’t even anything bad. Maybe it was just heartburn or something.”
“Peter you just had a bad anxiety attack, it wasn’t nothing,” Tony said. He sighed. “And- uh- you should absolutely be able to call me if you’re going through something like that. I’m supposed to be a superhero ‘mentor’ to you – what use am I if I just leave you alone? So, uh, I’ve decided that you’re going to come up and do some lab work with me and we’re going to get you into some training and –“
“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I’m fine, it’s fine- I don’t need help. I’m fine, for god sake!” he snapped, unsure of where it came from. “Don’t force yourself to hang out with me from pity. I don’t have anxiety- this was just a one-off,” he explained, which he thought to be the truth. He was great. He had superpowers, a loving aunt, and great friends. He had a home, food on the table, and a great school. He had no right to be anxious, right? There was nothing wrong with him. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“I’m not saying that Peter-,”
“Yes, you are! Just leave me alone!” Peter said. He snatched the mask from Tony’s hands and threw it over his face. “Thanks for coming but – I’m fine, it’s fine. Sorry for making you come all this way. But I’ll see you if anything comes up,” he tells him. “Bye. And sorry. Again,” he says, shooting a web as far as he could reach, just so he can run away before Tony sees that his hands are still shaking.
Did he already know?
When he got home, he collapsed into his bed and ripped the suit from his body. He shoved one of Ben’s shirts over his torso. Even though it shouldn’t be a big deal, the way it was so oversized on him made him crumble. He collapsed into himself, sobbing into his pillow. It wasn’t fair that Ben was dead. It should’ve been him. If Peter had died then May could’ve moved on- they could’ve had their kids, maybe one or two- and she’d be happy and safe and not struggling with money.
His shirt still smelt like Ben's. Specifically, the strong aftershave that he always sprayed on himself before work. He’d spray a bit in Peter’s face too, for a laugh, and Peter never realised how he’d miss that if it wasn’t there. He took a deep breath in its scent and closed his eyes. It shouldn’t have been him. Peter should’ve been the one to take the bullet and maybe this all would’ve been fine.
Peter didn’t sleep that night, but he stopped crying as he heard May come through the door. It was like he could switch his brain off at a moments notice, but it was not quite enough to completely reboot it. He led there in complete silence, nothing but the old streetlight illuminating the area. He had to pretend like everything was fine because there was a presentation tomorrow and he couldn’t fuck it up because he needed his grades. He needed to keep his 4.0 or he’d get kicked out of Midtown or he wouldn’t get the scholarship for MIT. Then, he’d just become even more of a burden on May. Without his own job, he’d go nowhere and-
He tried not to think about it.
A week passed and he still felt the same.
Tired, cold, and congested, he got changed and walked to Ned’s house where they met every morning. He kept his head down as groups of other kids passed him, laughing happily and telling each other stories of their evening. He presses his hand against his chest, tries to will away the feeling, and knocks on his best friend’s door.
When Ned sees him, he frowns, but he tries to hide it. It is too late, though, as Peter sees right through him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ned says, grabbing his bag and waving goodbye to his mom. He shuts the door behind them and the duo starts making the next ten-minute journey towards Midtown Tech. Ned keeps looking at him, glancing over but saying nothing at all. It starts to drive Peter crazy.
"What? Just say it, man,” Peter says, tired of people stepping on eggshells around him. It’s been a long time since Ben died but people still treat him like it was yesterday. He’s not a child, he can get over things- he’s fine, for god sake. How many times does he have to say it to convince them?
How many times does he have to say it to convince himself?
“You look… really bad, Pete,” Ned says, frowning. He stops in the middle of the street, and they stand against an old shop as looks down. “You’re so skinny, you’ve got scars all down your arms that should’ve healed by now – thanks to ‘you know what’, and you look the most tired that I’ve ever seen you. I’m scared that you’re breaking in front of me and there’s nothing I can do to help.”
Peter sighs, sadly. “I’m okay, Ned. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“No, I know you and you’re not okay. Please just- let me help you or at least think about it. I don’t want to- I mean, I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I don’t know what I’d do,” Ned rambles, and he’s got tears building in the corner of his eyes. He’s staring down at the concrete below them, hiding the quiver of his lip the best that he can. Peter feels awful.
“Okay,” Peter says. He takes Ned’s hand, squeezes it and then he lets go. “I’ll try to look after myself, for you. And for me, I guess.”
Ned holds out his pinkie finger. “Promise?”
Peter hesitates but he joins their fingers together. He doesn’t know why he does it, but behind his back, he crosses his fingers just in case. He can’t break Ned’s heart, but he also doesn’t think he needs to put that much effort into himself. Is it worth it, in the end? He’ll live for as long as he does in the debt of others to right his wrongs. He was the reason Ben was dead – because the bullet didn’t hit him instead. Until he dies too, there’s nothing that can take that back.
When school is over, and Peter’s done with the band, he decides to take all of his frustration and sadness out on a patrol. He sneaks into an alleyway nearby and starts to get changed. When his spider sense starts to flare up, he climbs to the wall and hides in the corner to hopefully stop a random bystander from finding out his identity.
But then he sees Tony standing there, staring right at him.
“Should I have brought a broom?” he asks, staring up with his arms folded over his chest.
He looks like he doesn’t belong here. Surrounded by old trash and stray animals- he’s a sight for sore eyes dressed in a three-piece suit that fits every curve of his body. It’s most likely been made for him. His sunglasses sit neatly at the top of his head. Peter peers behind him and sees a black car. He hears Happy’s heartbeat from inside it. He doesn’t know why they’re here, but he doesn’t like it.
“Are you going to come down?” Tony asks.
“No,” Peter replies.
“No? Kid, come on. Get down,” he says.
His eye twitches and Peter wants to kick and scream. He’s annoyed? Try being him, he didn’t want Tony here at all and he didn’t want him in his business. He was fine and he didn’t want pity forcing Tony into being this ‘mentor’ that Peter had previously wanted from him.
“I don’t want to,” Peter replies. Tony rolled his eyes. Reaching out his arm, he fires something towards Peter that breaks the brick around him. Peter jumps, sensing it’s happening as he falls to the floor. He stares at Tony, his jaw falling. “What the hell was that?! You could’ve killed me!”
“I didn’t though,” Tony shrugged. He walked towards Peter and wrapped his arm around him like they were familiar with one another. He walked towards the car and tightened his grip as Peter tried to get loose. “Stop being so stubborn.”
“I’ll call the police- you’re kidnapping me!” he says.
Tony scoffs. “Just get in the car, Peter.”
“This is against my will and I will sue- I swear- I will-“ he says, but then he gives up and finds himself hitting the soft seats and they were so, so, warm. There was a blanket there too, and Peter had been tired all day so maybe it would be fine if he rests his eyes for a second. He barely registered someone clipping a seat belt over him before he drifted out of consciousness.
When he woke up, he was in a bed. Not just any bed, it had four posts, a memory foam mattress and so many pillows he felt like he was floating. It was an oasis that he thought only royalty would use. He groans, rubbing his eyes and finds himself unable to sit up. He looks around as much as he can, not recognising it at all. The last thing he remembers is Tony forcing him into the car.
There’s a snack on the side of the bed that has his name on it. He opens it up and eats it without question. It was so good- so gooey and chocolatey and it had all his favourites in it. He sighed contentedly as he went into his pockets to check his phone. When he saw it was 3 AM, his eyes shot out of his face.
May will think he’s gone-
He hadn’t done his homework-
He didn’t know how to get back to Queens, and what if that means he was late to school and they decide to kick him out?
He was supposed to call Ned.
He hadn’t patrolled! What if someone died and he could’ve saved them, but he thought sleep was more important than they ever were?
Peter started to freak out. The now familiar taste of panic grew in his gut. He gagged, scared he was going to be sick. He felt his heart underneath his hand and rubbed at his chest to try and get it to stop. When he tried to speak, nothing came out and soon he was shaking so badly there must’ve been an earthquake or something like it.
Peter gasped for a breath- not knowing why he couldn’t just breathe normally. He huffed and puffed, but still – it’s like nothing would work to get his brain back on track. Why wouldn’t it work? He put his hands in his hair and pulled harshly – wincing at the pain only he could manage. All of this was so frustrating and weird. He thought to himself… Why couldn’t he be normal?
Suddenly someone’s hands are on him, and he freaks out swatting at whoever was trying to get his hands away from his hair. He only manages to see Tony when two gauntlets appear. They circle his wrists and stop him from hurting himself, but also succeed in making Peter feel weak- like there was nothing to defend himself with. He tries to get loose- tries to get himself free but only hurts his wrists in the process.
“Peter! Peter, it’s okay. It’s just me. Just take a deep breath,” Tony says. Peter does as he says. He stops wriggling about and lets his body relax into the mattress. “There we go. Good kid, good kid- right, just look at me, okay? Then breathe.”
Peter does that too. Then, finally, he calms down. The gauntlets around his arms lessen up and he can move. He rolls his wrist and sits up, breathing heavily to himself as his heart slows down. He wipes the tears off his face with his sleeve and sniffs, looking up at Tony whose eyebrows are furrowed and pinched together.
“Are you okay?” Tony asks, sitting on the side of the bed. He brushes some hair out of Peter’s face and frowns. Peter flinches from the touch and moves slightly to the right to get out of his way. “I talked to your aunt.”
“You what?!” Peter says, “she doesn’t know about Spider-Man, right? You didn’t tell her?”
“No, I didn’t. Although you should. I told her that we organised an ‘intern’s sleepover’ and that you were going to learn lots of cool stuff. She said that would be great and that she wished you’d tell her these things,” Tony shrugs. He awkwardly fusses with an old ring on his finger as he chews his bottom lip. “Look, kid… Ever since last week I haven’t stopped worrying about you.”
“Why? I’m fine,” Peter says like it’s a matter of fact. Tony narrows his eyes and looks at him as if it’s obvious. Peter shakes his head. “I get it looks suspicious; you’ve just caught me on bad days. I’m good, Mr Stark. I swear.”
“Even if I believe you, I still want you to come to the lab more often. You’re a smart kid and I’ve ignored that, and that’s my bad. I think you’d do great as one of my interns, maybe my personal one, if you’d like that. And it’s not pity, Pete. I just know what you’re capable of and I want to grab you before any other company tries to,” Tony explains. He looks down at the bed and winces, “I get I could’ve asked you more nicely than ‘kidnapping’ you but you’re stubborn and it would’ve taken ages otherwise.”
Peter managed a smile. He looked at him and shrugged. Maybe it would do him good to go out and work in the lab. He’s been cooped up in the same routine for so long. That must be the reason why he’s been acting so weird recently. That’s it, and nothing else. Nothing’s wrong.
He’s fine… and he’ll prove it.