Chapter 2
“Peter?”
MJ slowly opened the door. Or at least she tried to, but something was blocking it from fully opening. MJ still managed to squeeze through.
It was dark inside the room. Peter hadn’t even opened the blinds. The room was a mess, she realised when her eyes adapted. Not the normal kind of mess, where there are schoolbooks and clothes scattered on the floor and the bed isn’t made. It’s the kind of mess where the bed is destroyed, his desk broken down in the middle and his clothes ripped to shreds. And in the middle of it all: Peter.
Peter wasn’t even aware of his surroundings he was just lying there. He wasn’t doing anything else except existing. And sometimes even that could be too much. He was just so... empty.
“Leave me alone MJ.”
Peter was exhausted. And empty. He felt so misunderstood and alone and he just wanted to feel things again. He knew he should feel. But it was just empty inside him. His chest felt hollowed out.
He should be angry.
He should be sad.
He should be anything except empty.
MJ didn’t say anything. She didn’t leave either.
All she did was slowly and carefully walk closer to him. She had to kick a few pieces to the side to do that. With some she couldn’t even tell what they were in the beginning.
Finally she reached him and managed to clean up quite a bit room on the floor so she could lay down next to him. She wasn’t close to him or all up in his personal space. She wasn’t even touching him.
Peter still couldn’t feel things. He should be mad that she didn’t listen to him. He should be mad, that she was still here. But he couldn’t even bring himself to even react.
They stayed still for a long time. Just breathing and staring at the ceiling. MJ also stayed still when she realised that he was silently sobbing. All she did was place her hand in between them. He could take it if he wanted to. their fingers were barely inches apart.
Peter suddenly felt like drowning. The emptiness was suffocating him. And he couldn’t breath. He was crying, he realised between two sobs. He was crying and didn’t even feel it. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t mad. He was just empty. Why was he crying? His eyes were burning too.
Then his fingers touched MJ’s. They intertwined. And for a moment, just a little moment, it was okay not to feel things.
“I just don’t know how to live in a world without him.”
“That’s okay Peter.”, they were silent for a while until MJ continued, “You do know, that you’ll never be without him right? That he’s going to stay with you forever, because you loved him and he loved you. It may not seem possible right now, but you will be okay without him. Before you know it, he’ll no longer be the first or the last thing that goes through your mind every single day. You’ll be OK without him. You’ll hear his name and your heart won’t break. You’ll stop looking for him. You won’t think he is calling you every time your phone rings and you’ll stop expecting his text. One of these days, you’ll accept the fact that he’s gone and that he isn’t coming back. You’ll stop waiting for him.
But this day is not today. And it won’t be tomorrow. It may not even be next year. but Peter you have to try to live again. Tony wouldn’t want this.”
Peter knew that Tony wouldn’t want this, he knew it and still it helped to hear someone else saying it.
It just didn’t make things easier. He was still empty inside, and he still missed him.
He just didn’t know how to be Spiderman anymore, let alone Peter Parker.
Peter hadn’t touched the suit in month. How could he? It was painful to even look at it, to be reminded, that Tony made this, that he touched it and cared enough about him to want to protect him.
It wasn’t fair that he died.
He wasn’t supposed to sacrifice himself.
It was all his fault.
The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even properly mourn him. He couldn’t cry out in public when they talked about the great sacrifice of Tony Stark and the Avengers in school. He couldn’t break down and scream at everyone to shut up when they whispered in the halls about Iron Man.
Ned knew he wasn’t feeling good. That he wasn’t okay. But how could he be okay?
He also couldn’t pick up Peppers calls.
“He did it for you Peter.”
Pepper told him after the funeral as if it would make everything better. As if that wouldn’t make him feel worse, how could he be okay when Tony Stark sacrificed himself so he could live?
He was Spiderman after all. People were supposed to stop dying around him. What did his useless powers do him good at all? His parents died, his Uncle died and he had to watch Tony Stark pass away slowly and painfully and act as if it wasn’t that bad at all.
“He Parker, you look tired. Are you sure you are okay?”
He met MJ’s worried eyes. Normally she probably wouldn’t care or throw in a random looser when she talked to him. Or before the whole mess she would sprinkle in a suspicious amount of spider jokes. The fact that she didn’t must mean he looked bad. Like really bad.
The fact that he hasn’t slept in like a week or something (it were 8 days and 6h but who’s counting anyways?) was probably not really helping his case.
“I’m okay no worries.”
Maybe if he said it out loud enough, it would become true.
Sometimes Peter stared at his own name on the tall stone monument. Wall of the Vanished. It was so little he could barely make it out. So many people stood beside him. Carved into stone forever.
They debated about getting rid of the stones after everyone returned.
Peter was glad they didn’t.
Instead they placed another statue in the middle of the stones to honour Tony Starks great sacrifice. Even if it pained Peter to look at it he liked the idea that this time they decided to honour Tony stark. Not Iron Man. Just Tony. Which made it so much more difficult to bear it’s presence.
He was glad, that in order to see his name he didn’t have to look at Tony’s face at the same time since the statue was actually facing his name. He could sit on a bench and ignore it’s presence all together.
Weirdly most people seemed to avoid the monument. Most of the times he was alone with all those names. He didn’t mind that nobody could see him crying.
He also didn’t mind the people that did see him crying. Most of the time they were crying as well.
Peter didn’t know how long he sat there till somebody sat down next to him.
They didn’t talk for a while.
“How did you find me here?”, Peter managed to squeeze out. He hoped his voice wasn’t trembling too much.
“He came here a lot”, Happy finally said. Peter didn’t look up. If he did Happy would see the tears in his eyes and the pain they were carrying.
It hurts.
They were quiet for a moment, until Happy sighed and looked at him sternly.
“Are you okay kiddo?”
Peter was dumbfounded for a moment. How could he be okay? How could Happy think he would ever be okay again?
“I’m fine”, was all Peter managed to squeeze out. Maybe if he said it out loud enough times, it would become true.
“Oh. Because you know... I’m not.”
Peter didn’t know what to say. I mean he knew that Happy was probably suffering. That he must be in at least as much pain as himself. But he didn’t expect him to be so honest with him.
“It’s gonna hurt for a long long time”, Happy continued, chuckling a bit, “I don’t think there is gonna be a time where it won’t hurt anymore. Maybe one day you get used to the pain. But right now? Fuck I can’t stop thinking about him and it hurts every time I do.”
Happy kept rambling and Peter kept staring on his own name trying so hard not to cry. Not to break down. He had to be strong, right?
When Happy stopped talking and Peter finally looked at Happy he saw that the man had cried the entire time he was talking.
“I don’t think I’m gonna be fine for a while either”, Peter admitted.
“That’s okay. We can be not-fine together.”; Happy had kept his distance until now, but now he reached out and gently placed his big hand on Peter’s shoulder. And somehow that took a bit of the pain away. “Do you want to get something to eat? A Cheeseburger?”
Peter didn’t even know when he last ate, was it Monday? What day was it today? Wednesday? Thursday? He really couldn’t tell.
"That would be a good idea.. I think", ha finally managed to say.
Maybe if he would keep talking he could forget the memory of Tony Heartbeat getting weaker and more quiet while everything inside Peter wanted to scream and scream and scream. He had never hated being Spiderman more.
He just couldn't forget.
Maybe if he wouldn’t have been bitten. Maybe if he wouldn’t have been blipped. Maybe, just maybe he would be okay right now.
He had so much left to say.
He wanted to tell him that he misses him.
He wanted to tell him that he can’t sleep, can’t breath, can’t think.
He wanted to tell him that he regrets not being able to do more.
He wanted to tell him that he wanted to save him.
That he needed him.
He wanted to tell him that he wished he was here with them.
He wanted to tell him that he wanted to forget the look on his face.
Tell him that he never could.
He wanted to tell him that it feels like dying.
That he couldn’t breath.
That he was sorry.
But he couldn’t tell him anything at all.