Chapter 1
Two weeks
Two weeks Peter had been without his May
His May
She was gone and again, he did nothing to stop it.
Not that he really could, unless he miraculously discovered the cure for cancer in a three month period
Because that’s all it took
Three months
Three months for the disease to spread
To spread and to kill his aunt
Two weeks he’d been with Tony Stark
Two weeks Tony Stark had tried to cheer him up
Two weeks he had gone without a smile, or a ridiculous pun.
Tony even set them up, but they never came
Today was the first day he finally cried
Today he finally cried as he poured milk into his cereal
The milk that spilled over the edge in his day dream
The milk that tipped him over the edge
Tony was sitting on a bar stool on the backside of the kitchen counter, daily paper in one hand and long black coffee in the other. He looked up and gave a little smile as the teenager emerged from his room. His new room that Tony knew he wasn’t sleeping in properly. Because every night Tony sat down in the lab asking Friday to check up on the kid, and every time the response was the same. Of course he did sleep, not that it was enough to be a functioning human being, but Tony knew the drill. Considering he had been through it himself with his own parents.
The kid walked out, hair unkept, eyes drooping from a lack of sleep and face non changing. Tony had never seen Peter look anything to resemble the time framed zombie the boy had become. He would get up, eat, hide in his room, come out, eat, and so forth and so on. For two weeks, this had been the routine.
Of course Tony wanted to do something, comfort him in someway or another. A few times he has offered Peter to come down to the workshop and play around with some of the tech. Even tried bribing him with some nano teach, but the kid shook his head without any other words bah a rasp of a “No thanks” and continued on back to his room.
Tony didn’t know what to do, he hasn’t had to deal with kids, other than that one time… Harley. Peter reminded Tony of Harley a little, the guilt tripping puppy eyes, brain full of smarts and what not. But still none of that really helped Tony right now. He’d never had to legally and willingly take on the parental figure of a child.
Sure, he liked to think he was pretty close with the kid, he’s been over enough to know him inside and out. Its different though, 24 hours 7 days a week is way different than 4 hours 3 days a week. Pepper helped, a lot actually. Her and May had become close after the terrifying circumstance of May finding out about Peter’s second nature. But, it wasn’t fully enough because Tony still had to be there by him self with Peter more than anyone else.
Hell, he didn’t mind. He wanted to be, but it was hard not knowing what was the right thing and the wrong thing to do was. And this moment had turned to this conflicting thought once again.
Shit what do I do?
Tony went back to reading his paper after giving a warm “morning” as Peter trudged his way to the kitchen, he still looked the same as any other day for the past two weeks. He could hear the bowl connect with the bench, the cereal being poured inside, then the milk…
The milk that didn’t stop.
He looked up at a white trail of liquid as it came closer to his side of the counter top, he followed it to see Peter, his eyes glaring into nothingness with out any knowledge of what his subconscious being was doing. Tony didn’t say anything just stared at the bizarre scene.
And then it happened.
One second the milk was pouring over the edge of the bowl, the next Peter was crying.
Crying for the first time in two weeks, And Tony knew that in that moment Peter realised. He finally realised that life was still moving on, his Aunt was gone and he was still moving on. He was Living with out her, and she was gone. He was making breakfast without her and she was gone.
She was gone
She was gone
She was gone
Shit what do I do?
Tony frazzled and shocked put down his coffee and his Paper, which ironically landed in the milk, he stood and raced around to the other side of the counter. Just in time he wrapped the boy in a hug as the child’s knees gave out. They slowly slid down to the kitchen floor, not caring if they were huddled together in the milk.
The milk that was split.
The spilt milk that tipped him over the edge
He was crying over spilt milk.