Drifting

It’s strange how much things can change from walking into a new room, like in a house. The kitchen may be loud with new smells constantly hitting you. People laughing and asking for food. Rummaging through the pantry. Parents trying to speak over everyone, trying to tell them to get out. And then you walk into the living room. It’s quieter, but not much so. It’s welcoming, though, asking you to sit on the couch, to enjoy a minute of rest. It’s a relaxed sort of happy. But you keep walking, upstairs and up into your room. As you open the door, you are enveloped with a new kind of space. It’s quiet, accepting. It is a place for gathering thoughts. A place for you to remember that at one point, as strange as it may seem, you were in the kitchen.

That’s how Peter felt walking into the ship. The inside was so contrasting from the outside. Inside, it was baking, ten times hotter than the air outside.

It was okay though, he couldn’t feel it.

He couldn’t feel anything.

He didn’t feel aching legs as they carried him across the burning floor. Not even when they gave out from under him in the corner of the room. He didn’t hear how quiet it was, and he certainly didn’t feel how that was slowly driving him crazy. He didn’t see Nebula walk across the span of the ship to the cockpit (or something similar to that) and mess with the controls.

He couldn’t, because the black hole inside of him swallowed it all up.

His senses were jarred back into full power when he felt the ship shake around him. He violently clambered to his feet and looked expectantly at Nebula who had her back turned to him.

“What’s ha-?”

Nebula cut him off, her voice as impassive as ever, “We’re taking off.”

Peter bit his lip and sat down. He had to physically restrain himself as the ship took off. He had to fight tears as it slowly became colder and colder. He wanted to turn around and go back to Titan. Wait for Tony to come back.

Peter didn’t want to leave him alone.

~`~`~`~`

Cold.

That was the only thing he could feel as they drifted in space. The metal was cold, for it was no longer being heated by the alien sun. The air was cold, constantly reminding him of it’s precious presence, for it would soon run out. His limbs were numb refusing to move (they weren’t actually that cold, he just couldn’t move.) His mind was frozen, seemingly broken as it only played one thought on a loop like a broken record.

You failed again.

Peter’s frozen heart didn’t have the power to fight against that. It was true wasn’t it? Tony had died. Another person dead because Peter fucking wasn’t good enough. It was Ben all fucking over again. He didn’t stop the gun that time. He didn’t grab the Infinity Gauntlet fast enough this time.

You failed again.

Tony had tried to warn him. ‘Be better.’ If Peter had only listened. Hell, if he had stayed on the bus, he probably wouldn’t have gotten in the way. He wouldn’t have messed up so badly.

Nebula came over and sat down next to him, “You’re not okay.”

Nice way to point out the obvious. Peter would have laughed if he could. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he realized that she may be waiting for an answer.

Lie.

It took him a few moments to remember how his lips and tongue worked but he eventually was able to ground out a sentence.

“I’m bored.” God, his voice was weak.

Nebula looked at him for a second, clearly disbelieving. Peter stared right back, daring her to tell him he was wrong.

She sighed before shrugging, “Then do something.” And then she walked off.

Damn aliens.

Peter pondered her response for a few moments. He could.

Fuck it.

He slowly unfurled his legs from under him and braced his hands on the walls on either side of him. He painfully pushed himself to his feet and began to walk around.

The ship was larger than he originally thought, having multiple large rooms. His breath caught as he walked into one and was met with a heart-stopping view. There was a large window exhibiting the large expanse of space, making Peter feel so very small. He slowly shuffled over to a seat, obviously for enjoying the view. He didn’t enjoy now, however. Peter knew better. He knew how much of a killer the void outside was. It was killing them right now. Sitting down, he grimaced as he realized he had sat on something. Shifting to pull it out, he realized it was a piece of paper with some random nonsense on it.

‘Then do something.’

Peter’s immediate thought was to make a paper football. His heart stuttered, however, as he remembered who taught him how to make it. One boring weekend, Tony had flicked one at him and complained how Peter was spending too much time on homework. He then proceeded to show Peter how to make on so they could spend the rest of the afternoon flicking them at each other.

Peter found a pencil and decided on Tic-Tac-Toe instead. He found Nebula, but not before wiping the tears off of his face.

~`~`~`~`

It took a couple of tries and a few angry mumbles to teach Nebula how to play. They had been playing for a while and she was clearly winning having won over half of the last twenty-or-so games.

Peter wasn’t planning his moves, opting to just randomly lay down his X’s. He barely looked up when he heard Nebula exclaim that she had one after placing her third O.

He didn’t even look up when she spoke in time with his thoughts.

“You failed again.”

~`~`~`~`

They had two hours left of air.

They were going to die. He could feel it. His Spidey-Sense buzzed uselessly in the back of his mind, warning him of the inevitable. The air was noticeably thinning, making him feel lightheaded.

His thoughts trailed to Tony and he smiled, maybe he would see him again.

He breathed quietly through his mouth as he returned to the chair in front of the window, shakily laughing as he ‘looked death in its eyes’.

He hoped May was alright.

He closed his eyes and ignored the bright light and whooshing feeling, thinking it met something else entirely.

~`~`~`~`

They were on Earth.

Some fucking flying woman had fucking saved them and now they were on fucking Earth.

And apparently all Peter could fucking do was groan.

He felt someone pick him up and cracked his eyes open to see War Machine minus the suit, of course, staring down at him. He was carried outside where it was night, and Peter felt a weird sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t see the stars.

He got taken inside where he was met with many questioning stares. He was set carefully into a chair. A man (is that Bruce Banner?) came over and started hooking him up to machines, but he he only had one thing running through his mind.

“Aunt May.”

Peter had closed eyes, missing the way Black Widow had made her way to a computer pulling up the list of known dead.

~`~`~`~`

Peter awoke with a raging headache. He groaned as he tried to sit up, finding he was in a cot.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Peter turned to find Natasha Romanoff sitting in a chair, looking at him with a look akin to pity.

He hated it.

Huffing he laid back, but not before shooting up again and kicking himself for not asking sooner.

“My aunt, sh-she was ho-” He stuttered hands pressing into the cot.

Natasha only cut him off, the pity in her eyes becoming stronger, “I’m sorry, she’s gone.”

Peter stilled and held his breath.

He only nodded as the black hole inside of him swallowed him whole.

You failed again.