May
Chapter 6- May
Steve outside Tony's hospital room when a kid opened the door and ran into him. Before Steve could process what happened, the kid pushed past him, keeping his head down. Confused, Steve walked into the room and was greeted with a weak, but very much alive, Tony.
He caught the tail end of something he was saying about "Wheres Peter?' but didn't comment on it.
He cleared his throat, making his presence in the room known. Tonys gaze snapped into his, and they had an almost silent exchange. Steve could see the relief in his eyes and knew Tony was thinking the same thing as him.
Thank god you're okay.
Old feuds long gone, Steve felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When he saw Tony with the infinity stones on the battlefield, all he could think was That should be me.
Tony had a family, a daughter. He had everything to live for. He was a hero. Tony didn't deserve to die. Steve, on the other hand, was a criminal. Well, technically pardoned, but he betrayed Tony when he needed him most. He betrayed the world.
Tony broke his gaze, turning to Pepper. She got the cue and stood up, allowing Steve to sit next to Tony.
"Its good to see you alive, Stark."
"Don't sound so relieved Rogers. As soon as I get out of this hospital, I am gonna make you pay for that shield. I mean, losing it is one thing, but you managed to break it!"
Steve cracked a grin, glad to see Tony was still his old self. The moment was very nearly overwhelming for him, and he could only imagine what Tony must feel like. Steve felt the mix of emotions that always came after a battle. Relief that all his friends were (mostly) okay, fear of the backlash that he knew was coming, and utter euphoria. Because they had done it. They actually did it. They brought everybody back.
The room lapsed into silence. Harley, Morgan, Rhodey, and Happy were all in the room but made no effort to speak. They knew this was between Tony and Steve.
Steve was contemplating when he remembered, "Oh, by the way, there was a kid who ran into me on his way out of here, who is he? Did you adopt a third kid or something?" He thought he would bring up the random occurrence, still confused and curious who the kid was.
Tony looked confused for a moment before opening his mouth. "Do you mean-"
"Peter?" Pepper cut him off. She also had a confused face on, but also looked mildly concerned. "He was just here, I called him to come and see you. He was here a second ago, but then you walked in, and…"
Tony furrowed his eyebrows. "Steve, did you see where he was going or what he was doing?"
Steve shook his head. "Not really. He was kind of running and had his head down. He was heading for the elevator, but he's probably fine."
Steve was a bit confused about why Tony seemed so concerned, along with Pepper. Hed never heard Tony talk about anyone called Peter before, and wasn't aware of any other kids with close connections to Tony.
Tony and Pepper were staring at each other, silently communicating.
"Could you guys please tell me who this Peter kid is?"
Tony turned to him again. "Spider-man. He, uh, he got dusted. He's the reason I helped."
Steve's mouth formed an "o." That explained why Tony never talked about him. In fact, every time someone brought up Spider-Man, Tony almost immediately diverted the conversation, or would straight-up leave. The memory was probably too painful. And from the looks of it, the kid wasn't that old.
Steve couldn't believe he didn't notice sooner, but it made so much sense. Tony and Spider-Man had been on Titan together all those years ago. Tony… Tony had to watch him die.
He suddenly felt slightly nauseated. Steve had to watch Bucky die, and that was painful enough. But a kid…
He snapped his attention back into the room.
Tony picked up his phone, then turned to Pepper. "I can't call him, I'm pretty sure the phone number I have is out of service. Do you know if he got a new one?"
Pepper sighed. "He doesn't have a new one yet. The only way I managed to contact him directly was because of Karen. I can only call him if he's wearing the suit, which," She picked up her phone and scrolled for a moment, "He is not."
Tony seemed to visibly grow more tired before Steve's eyes.
Quickly, Pepper walked up to him, trying to calm him down. "Hey, I'm sure he's fine. I don't know why he ran off, but ill set up an alert so I can call him as soon as he puts on the suit. The kids probably feeling really overwhelmed with everything going on, so we should give him some space."
Tony looked disappointed, and there was still concern etched on his face, but he nodded. He turned his attention to Morgan, putting her on his lap. "Hear that kiddo? You're gonna get to meet Spider-Man!"
She giggled a little before saying, "I already did! When you were still asleep!"
Tony looked at Pepper, a bit surprised.
"He came with Auntie May. He looked kinda scary, though," Morgan continued.
Pepper stayed silent, so Tony just turned back to Morgan. "Okay, kiddo, well, you don't need to be scared of him. He's a good guy! And he's gonna be like your cousin. He's out family."
---
Blood. Peter had experience cleaning it up before. He was lucky his suit was red, it didn't stain too bad when he got injured. But somehow this was different. He couldn't determine if it was better or worse, but it was definitely different.
It was different when he just sat silently as little rivulets of blood flowed down his arm.
It was different because Peter was the one who reached for the glass.
It was different because he knew he shouldn't.
He knew that cutting yourself was something crazy people did.
He knew May would probably be worried.
It was different because he did it anyway.
But at that moment, he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it. Because, at that moment, he would do anything, anything, to stop the thoughts swirling through his head. He would do anything to let the anger and pain and frustration out.
He would do anything to get the image of Harley, Morgan, and Pepper sitting around Tony, out of his head.
There was so much going on in his mind, too much. It was all too much, too much, too much.
Too much.
Too much.
Too much.
Slash.
He didn't even register it at first. The cut was so quick, and the glass was so sharp that it didn't even appear at first.
But then, he saw his skin split apart. He saw the layers separate, and the paleness of raw flesh from under the split.
The pain registered in him after a millisecond. It hurt. It hurt, hurt, hurt .
But it did exactly what he wanted.
The clarity it brought him was euphoric. Thoughts vanished from his head as he focused on the intense, vibrant pain in his wrist. He felt relaxed, being able to breathe clearly, not suffocating from the weight of his mind.
It hurt, but he had never felt better.
Another two slashes.
Blood started to flow, forming into little beads until it built up, then filling the cuts. It began slowly flowing down his arm. Peter almost couldn't be bothered to address it but got up once it started to drip on the bathroom counter.
Just one more…
He added three.
Thank god May wasn't home. The idea of her seeing him like this was humiliating. It was terrifying. The idea of anyone seeing him like this was terrifying. They would think he was crazy.
But he wasn't. Peter knew that. He wasn't crazy. He just needed to get a clear head. That was it.
But he knew he couldn't leave behind a trace of what he did to his arm.
He got some paper towels and held them over the cuts. He stayed there for a while until the blood had mostly stopped. He checked them to see the cuts were slowly mending themselves. He was relieved, knowing that most likely, he wouldn't even have any scars.
They were deep cuts, though.
He washed them out and got their first aid kit, pouring alcohol over the cuts, and receiving another bout of intense pain. He wrapped some gauze around his wrist, covering up the six neat, aligned incisions.
One long-sleeved t-shirt and some cleaning later, all traces of… whatever that was, were gone. There was a steady pulsing, slightly dull pain that had been coursing through his arm the entire time he cleaned up, which he latched onto. For the better part of an hour, he was able to keep his mind clear.
But all good things must come to an end. The pain wore off as the cuts healed themselves, and he was left alone again, sitting on the couch in a living room he barely knew. Thoughts about Tony invaded his mind once again. This time though, when he thought about Tony, he thought about what he would say if he saw Peter now.
"God, you're even more pathetic than I thought. All this time, I thought you were smarter, less clingy and sensitive. I mean, I thought you cared about me. But you meet my family and you hate them. And you wanna know why? Because you can't handle not being the center of attention for five fucking seconds.
"You're so self-absorbed that you can't even accept that I've moved on. I only recruited you because of your powers. You forced your way into my life by making your messes, making me clean them up. And now that I have a real family, I don't need some snot-nosed brat that messes up everything he touches."
It's not real. Tony wouldn't say that.
Peter tried to convince himself that Tony would never say that, but there was just a sliver of doubt in his mind.
How do you know he wouldn't say that? All of it is true, so why wouldn't he say it?
Peter stood up abruptly. He put his hands to his ears and hunched over, trying to block them out.
He was so weak. He was so pathetic.
He was attention-seeking. He was a burden. He wrecked the ferry. He crashed a plane. He couldn't get the gauntlet off Thanos.
He couldn't handle the fact that Tony and May moved on.
He was selfish, making everything about himself.
He went back to the bathroom and found the glass.
He didn't just need to feel pain. He needed to be punished; he needed to suffer .
He removed his bandage and found the six white lines he left behind. He pressed the glass into his skin, retracing lines. He drew it across his wrist slowly, digging it in.
No more quick slashes.
The pain was worse this time.
The glass had gone deeper than before, and it cut through his skin agonizingly slow, making him lose all his thoughts.
He fell into a haze.
He didn't know how long he sat in the bathroom, but by the time he was done, there were six pink scars on his left arm, slowly healing and disappearing. Again.
---
"Peter! I'm back!" May walked into the apartment at around 9 pm, scanning the living room for him. He came out of his room to greet her, trying his best to act nonchalant.
"Hey, you're home early." He wasn't used to her getting home before midnight on weekdays, seeing as she always took on as many shifts as possible.
She let out a laugh before setting down her purse. "Huh, I guess to you I am." She moved to the kitchen, motioning for Peter to sit down on the couch. "Since I got promoted, money has been less tight. I don't have to take on so many extra shifts at the hospital now. I work during the day throughout the week and sometimes I take on nights during the weekend. I'm actually home late. Once everything settles down a bit, ill have to be there less."
She began to cook something, and Peter stayed seated at the couch, not quite knowing what to do. They stayed there in silence for a little, may focusing on whatever dish she was preparing.
Peter thought about earlier. He cleaned up the bathroom as best he could, but he was pretty sure May would notice the absence of a mirror in their bathroom. He felt a heavy weight settle on his chest. May had enough to deal with, he couldn't just go around smashing mirrors that they couldn't afford.
He cleared his throat and looked up. "Uh, May…"
"Yeah?"
"I was in the bathroom and accidentally knocked the mirror off the wall. It broke, but I cleaned cleared away all the glass. I'm really sorry, I can pay for a new one, and-"
Her laugh cut him off. "Peter, it's fine. I meant to get a new mirror anyways, the frame on that one was falling apart. I just hope you were careful when you were cleaning up the glass. I didn't get the chance to go shopping today, so ill get it when I go."
Peter nodded, trying to ignore the comment she made about being careful. He was a bit shocked at how easily she said that she would just get a new one.
Until he remembered. They could afford it.
Peter realized he had never seen May without bags under her eyes, until now. She really meant it when she said they didn't have to worry about money as much. It shook Peter to think about that. Ever since he lived with May, and even with Ben, money was something he thought about always. How they were gonna pay for things like heating and electricity, especially during some of the worse months.
When he got into midtown on a scholarship, it was one of the best days of his life. It was his chance at an actual future, where maybe, just maybe, he could have a comfortable life. He worked his ass off and kept his grades perfect, knowing that it was his one chance to get into a good college.
So the idea that for once, he wouldn't have to worry about money, was mind-boggling.
"Dinners ready."
They sat down at May's small dinner table together, and she set down to plates of what looked like spaghetti with a red sauce. "Spaghetti bolognese, my favorite."
Peter was shocked at the food in front of him. "You mean you cooked this? For once, it actually smells good!" He grinned a bit and picked up his fork, preparing to dig in.
May laughed and playfully hit him on the shoulder. "Hey, I wasn't that bad of a cook! And I've had plenty of time to practice." She sat down in front of him and started eating. Peter stiffened a bit, but also started to eat, trying not to think about anything negative (which was getting more difficult for him by the day).
They ate for a little, then May set her fork down. "So, Peter. Pepper called me earlier." He stiffened even more but kept his expression neutral. "She said you came to the tower but ran off."
She didn't say anything else, allowing Peter space to explain. She didn't push, but Peter could feel her eyes boring into him. He looked up at her but kept his face entirely neutral. He couldn't afford to let her know what he was thinking.
When he didn't say anything, she sighed and gripped his hand and looked him in the eye. He studied her face, feeling like he hadn't seen her in years. Her brow was creased, and her eyes were filled with a mixture of confusion, worry, and uncertainty.
"Peter… I'm sorry. I know this can't be easy for you, and I can't possibly begin to understand how you feel. I mean, this-" She gestured to the air, "-is crazy. Everything is so confusing right now, and I can't be here for you as much as I wish I was…" She moved her hands to her face, rubbing her temples. "I need you to talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking, what you need me to do."
Peter didn't know what to do. He knew she wouldn't believe him if he told her she was fine, but he sure as hell couldn't tell her the truth. She would think he was crazy or send him to some sort of therapist. She would never look at him the same. That idea was humiliating and terrifying.
But there was also the alternative that she wouldn't believe him. She would think he was overdramatic and making things up. She would tell him that he needed to suck it up and stop being so selfish.
So his only option was to lie through his teeth and make it convincing.
He let his face morph into something like a tired expression and smiled sadly. He spoke softly, carefully choosing his words. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, May. Generally, I'm handling fine-" She looked at him skeptically, "-But, you know…"
He looked away from her burning gaze. "It just gets a little overwhelming sometimes. Like today at the tower, with Pepper. She took me to see Tony and I got really nervous about seeing him. I think it's because I was just so worried about him. He almost died, and I realized that I could have never seen him alive again. And then I go outside, and I see so many people struggling, and so much has changed."
He finally looked back at her, and he could tell he had said exactly what she needed to hear. She smiled at him in understanding. "We'll get through this Peter. Together. I'm always here for you, you know that. I love you."
"I love you too."
He got up and took both of their plates to the dishwasher. May's food had been excellent, surprisingly. Still, he was disappointed he didn't get to enjoy it fully, their conversation dampening his mood.
When he was done with the dishes, he saw May sitting at the couch and scrolling through the tv. "Hey, what do you think about watching something? I kinda wanna watch star wars, what do you say?"
Peter tensed (he seemed to be doing that a lot today) and glanced at the clock. It was already 10:45, which meant he would usually be going out for patrol soon. May seemed to know something was up because she asked, "What is it?"
Peter knew he should be using this time; he had to catch up with May, to try to make things normal again. But he needed to go out. He needed to be able to swing through the air, get a breath of fresh air, and, most of all, he needed to think. He needed to think about what happened today, what he did.
He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt before answering. "Well, uh, it's kind of late, and I, uh, I was planning on going out for...patrol." His voice was barely a whisper at the end, feeling ashamed as he said it. But he needed to go out, and he had to make her understand.
Peter anxiously watched May and saw her eyes harden. She kept calm, but Peter could tell she wasn't happy with his answer.
"Peter, I knew I would have to bring it up eventually, but-" she sighed deeply, and her shoulders sagged. "But so soon after…"
"What do you mean, May?" Peter felt his worry rise, knowing whatever she was about to say wouldn't be good.
"I just… okay." She resigned herself to what she was thinking and looked at Peter directly in the eye. "You need to give up Spider-Man."
Peter could feel his heart hammer in his chest. A wet laugh rose in his throat, but in reality, he felt like crying. But May just continued to stare at him with a stony expression. "Wh- what?"
"Peter. Five years ago, you were on a field trip. Then, a giant spaceship attacked. I rushed home, knowing that you would have made it back, and we could be together." Her voice broke, her eyes barely holding back tears. "And you weren't there."
Peter took a step back. He didn't want to hear this.
"A-and then, I switch on the TV, and I see a video of you getting s-sucked up into that ship. And for a day , there was nothing I could do but sit and wait, knowing that you were fighting for your life ." The tears started to roll down her cheeks.
"And after that day was up, you know what happened? Half of the world died. I was out of my mind. I had to wait weeks- weeks- for Tony to come back. I waited weeks for Tony to show up at my door, and tell me you were dead ." She was sobbing at this point, only just able to force the words out.
Peter wanted to run. He wanted so badly to just turn and run out the door and never look back. But all he could do was watch May sob in front of him, knowing that he was the one who caused her pain.
He didn't run. He knew he should step forward, hug her, and tell her that everything was alright. He should say to her he was sorry, that he was here now, and he would stop being Spider-Man.
But he couldn't. Here May was, sitting in front of him. He watched the consequences of his actions take their toll, and still, he couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear. She was his only living family member, and he was betraying her.
"You know I cant."
She looked at him with a sense of desperation. "Peter, please. I had to wait five years for you, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you a second time. You've risked so much, and put yourself in danger so many times."
"None of that matters, May! There are so many people out there, so many people in danger. Especially right now, the world is in chaos. They need me. They need me so that I can bring them home, and they won't have to lose their family-"
"-as I did?" She cut in. She had stopped crying, but there was still grief in her eyes. Pain and anger. "Well, why do I- and why do you- have to give up so much? Why are you the person who has to bring them home? I know its selfish, but I don't care! I just need you to be safe."
Peter didn't say anything. He couldn't. There were so many words he wished he could say, but he knew better than anyone that they would not work. There were no words to make her understand.
To make her understand the guilt, he felt every time he couldn't save someone. To make her understand the looks of parents when he brought their children home. To make her understand the thank you's he'd received after walking women home.
There were no words to make her understand the sense of duty he felt. The pressure that was constantly weighing on his shoulders.
When she looked at Spider-Man, she saw a persona. She saw something separate from Peter entirely and was asking him to completely abandon that person.
But what she didn't know was that being Spider-Man was one of the few times where he could be himself. Where he could be honest about who he was and what he could do and stand up for himself.
He couldn't abandon Spider-Man because Spider-Man was the most honest, selfless, secure part of himself. He and Spider-Man were the same, and one could not exist without the other.
But for all that he was, he couldn't find the words to make her understand.
So he turned, walked into his room, and swung out the window.