perfect
Peter sometimes had thoughts - no, scratch that, he had these thoughts a lot. Thoughts like, ‘I wish I looked better,’ or, 'why aren’t I smarter than this’, or ‘i should be better, why am i so bad at this, or ‘I’m a superhero, superheroes shouldn’t have anxiety.
His friends and family would hear him muttering these thoughts to himself sometimes, and and each time, their heart would clench painfully for the hurt teen.
One such morning, Peter was in the kitchen, and he was staring at a video feed of a man holding a little girl who couldn’t have been older than 5 or 6, as she lay there limply in his arms.
“I should have saved her,” he muttered, letting his spoon clink against the metal bowl.
“No,” came a firm voice from the door.
Peter looked up and saw Tony looking at him sadly. “Peter, you have to understand, part of being a hero is knowing that you can’t save everyone. You did as much as you could have, and I’m proud of you for saving that man.”
“But, I couldn’t save the girl -”
Peter choked on the words and suddenly Tony was holding him, whispering in his ear that it was going to be alright.
Tony tightened his arms and thought sadly, “I wish you’d see that you’re perfect just the way you are.’