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Peter shivered under the blankets. He could feel the weight of a mountain of blankets resting on top of him, but it did nothing to stave off the cold that seemed to grip his bones. Instinctually, Peter knew something was wrong, but he could hardly muster the energy to do something about it when he could barely catch his breath.
He grabbed a tissue from the almost empty box beside him. Tears dribbled down his face as he blew his nose. Then he felt a pressure in his chest. He tried to brace himself as a cough gnawed its way out of his chest. He coughed and coughed, the noise of wet wheezes filling the room. He took a breath as his coughs finally trailed off. He tried not to breathe too hard out of fear that it would trigger another round of coughing.
He curled up underneath the blankets again and tried not to think about how it was Christmas Day. He hadn’t seen May in two weeks now. Once upon a time, May would have hovered over him, fed him chicken soup, and watched movies with him to help him feel better. She would have been worried when he wrapped himself in blankets and when he said his chest hurt when he breathed, but she wasn’t here now. Peter didn’t think she would have cared if she were. Maybe she would have taken pity on him and dropped him off at the ER.
The thing was, he wasn’t surprised when May finally packed up her bags and left him two weeks ago. Two weeks before Christmas, Peter had come home with his backpack full of presents that he had saved up all year for. If Christmas went well, maybe May would start talking to him again. Peter had a plan; he would make this Christmas the most festive year yet. He would make Christmas cookies and Uncle Ben’s special apple pie, and for Christmas Eve, he would make a turkey dinner. It was going to be perfect. Except he had come home to find the apartment empty, all that was left was a note from May stating that she didn’t want to spend Christmas with him.
Everything was a blur after that. Peter would get up when he got hungry, get something to eat and go back to bed to sleep. When he couldn’t sleep, he would stare at the wall or put on a movie. He hardly noticed he was getting sick until he woke up with a sore throat a bit over a week ago.
He wasn’t sure what day it was until Ned messaged him to say Merry Christmas. His family was off in Hawaii to visit extended family, but it was nice of Ned to think of him during Christmas. He couldn't muster the energy to message him back.
It’s not the first time he was home alone. He would sometimes spend a week by himself when May had to attend further nurse education courses across the country. She would have a neighbour or Ned’s mom check in on him. He never felt alone during those weeks, especially since May would spam him with audio messages, outdated Facebook mom memes, and always a video call before bed. His phone was startlingly quiet this time around.
Things started to get tense with her since she found out that Peter had his powers the day Ben died. After that, it seemed that everything that he did wrong was amplified. The little things, like leaving his shoes in the hallway or forgetting to do the dishes, seemed to tick her off more than usual. Maybe Peter deserved it, he was fifteen after all, and he should have been able to clean up after himself, but sometimes he couldn’t help but feel like her anger was disproportionate to the transgression. He would never forget when May whispered, “This kid is such a burden,” under her breath when he had asked for a new winter coat after the zipper broke on his old one. Peter would not have heard it if it weren't for enhanced hearing, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
The thing was, Peter knew he was a burden. May and Ben never wanted kids, and even at eight years old, he'd noticed when Ben started working longer hours and the hushed conversations and arguments that May and Ben had about money. It was always about being able to afford school fees or new clothes for him. He never asked for his parents to die, just like he never asked Ben and May to take custody of him.
He was fifteen now, so he did what he could to avoid being a burden. He started working at a pizza place on the corner after school and on weekends when he didn't have his mentorship with Mr. Stark or academic decathlon. Mr. Gruber didn’t like him much, but he'd give him leftover pizza once in a while. Peter was careful not to step on May’s toes and always did what she asked. He didn’t need to ask for clothes or money anymore, which was just one less thing for her to worry about.
It didn’t matter in the end, though. Maybe Peter was the problem.
The only thing that made the last 6 months bearable was hanging out with Mr.Stark. Even as May grew distant, Mr. Stark seemed to enjoy having Peter around, especially in the lab. He liked that Peter could keep up and that he had ideas worth listening to. His lab days up in the Stark Tower became the best parts of his week. For a while, he started to believe that he was wanted somewhere. And then, somehow, he ruined that too.
It was all his fault.
With midterm exams looming on the horizon, and a shouting match with May that ended up with her slamming the door on her way to work, Peter was already in a foul mood. Then, as if the universe had it out for him, Flash and his goons broke into his locker and filled his backpack with slime, effectively destroying his English term paper that he had stayed up all night working on. Mr. Wright was unempathetic as usual and refused to let him reprint it at the library for resubmission. That was it —his grade was tanked. After all that, he thought that an afternoon with Mr. Stark would be his saving grace.
Instead, it was the perfect cherry on top of his shit show pie.
The final straw was when Mr. Stark got on his case about him breaking curfew and staying up too late to do Spider-Man patrols, and Peter had lost it.
Why did he care? May didn’t care that he came home late and broke curfew —why should it matter to him? He wasn’t his dad, Peter told him as much. He had no right to act like one. Before he could stop himself, he slammed the prototype repulsor that Mr. Stark was working on. The sharp sound of metal shattering and crunching under his hand jolted him back to reality. His anger faded instantly, replaced by horror.
Mr. Stark stared at the wreckage, his jaw clenched and expression eerily similar to the day of the ferry disaster.
“That’s it, get out, ” He said, his voice cold. “If you can’t respect my equipment, you don’t deserve my time. Don’t come back.”
Peter’s heart dropped in his chest as he numbly gathered his things. He didn’t try to defend or plead his case. Mr. Stark’s clipped tone and the way he didn’t even meet his eyes said all he needed to know. He had ruined everything.
He stood outside his apartment building for a very long time after Happy dropped him off, not wanting to venture into the cold and empty apartment.
The weather seemed to complement his day pretty well.
As he felt the rain soak through his paper-thin hoodie, all he could think about was how he lost the last adult that sort of gave a fuck about him.
He trudged through the rain, his feet taking him to the familiar red and yellow playground. In a daze, he crawled beneath the slide, the metal structure providing a makeshift shelter from the downpour. As he sat there, clutching his backpack to his chest, a wave of clarity hit him.
This was the same playground that Ben used to bring him after supper, to burn off his extra energy before bed. At six years old, Peter hadn’t quite grasped the concept of changing hiding spots during hide-and-seek, but Ben always played along, exaggerating his search, looking anywhere but under the slide.
The memory cracked something open inside him. His shoulders shook as he tried to keep his sobs quiet.
He didn’t know how long he had stayed there, but by the time he finally stopped up, his tears had dried and the sun had long since set.
That night, as he stared at his bedroom ceiling, sleep evading him, he sent a single message.
“ I am so sorry, Mr. Stark. ”
As if his apology could have fixed anything.
An apology couldn’t bring Ben back.
It couldn’t fix this either.
That was a month ago. Mr. Stark never replied.
Christmas Eve had come and gone.
Peter didn’t feel good. His chest ached every time he coughed, and the tightness in his lungs was getting worse. He wished May were here; she would have known what to do. But she wasn't, and the silence of the apartment made that absence more apparent. It wrapped around him like the blankets piled on his bed—only heavier and more suffocating.
Peter knew he should probably see a doctor, but with his enhancements... it felt dangerous. Too many questions, too many risks. The last thing he wanted was to give May another reason to resent him by racking up medical bills.
His fingers hovered over his phone. Before he could change his mind, he dialled. One ring. Two.
“ You have reached Tony Stark. If you’re Pepper, please know that I am not ignoring you. If you are anybody else, please leave a message after the beep and maybe I’ll get back to you.”
Peter's throat closed. Tears pricked at his eyes.
“Hey, Mr. Stark…I know you don’t want to hear from me again, but I… I didn’t know who else to call.” Peter's voice cracked. “I don’t feel great, and May isn’t home and I am…” He cut himself off, feeling embarrassed. He should be able to take care of himself; he's certainly old enough. What right did he have to beg Mr. Stark for help after what he did? “Sorry, Mr. Stark. Just—just forget I called. I hope you’re having a good Christmas. And I'm sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me one day.”
Peter hung up before he lost his nerve and tossed his phone across the room. It landed with a dull thud near his bedroom door. His breath hitched with a sob.
Why am I such a burden?
He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing—desperately—that someone would hold him. Someone to tell him that everything would be okay. That they loved him.
He wished Ben were here. He wished his parents were still here. He wished May would come home. He wished he could stop ruining things.
Maybe I’m the problem, Peter thought bitterly. Maybe that's why I always end up alone.
Peter didn’t know when his sobs turned into wheezes. But when black spots danced in his vision, his final thought was quiet. Almost peaceful.
I get to see Ben again.
Tony knew he may have overreacted. After everything that happened with Peter... well, sins of the father, right? He hadn't handled it any better than his own father would have.
He’s supposed to be the adult, but the things that Peter said cut deep—too deep— and it rattled him. It was a wake-up call. He had been overstepping and trying to be someone he never was, someone he maybe couldn't be. He didn’t have the right to think of himself as the kid's father.
Peter, with that bright spark in his eyes every time he stepped into the lab. The way he'd ramble about Star Wars, hands flying, eyes wide.
His earnestness about helping out his community, about doing good. How he rescued cats stuck on his tree was like it was his life's mission.
Letting him in had been effortless. Peter brought a light into his life—a light that he didn't realize was missing.
After a month of denial, he had to admit the truth. The kid had carved out a little piece for himself in his heart. He felt it in the way he turned towards the empty desk in the corner of his workstation, ready to ask Peter something, only for the words to die in his throat. He felt it in the quiet, that kind that couldn't be drowned out with loud music. The way his projects had lost their usual spark.
Despite all that, he couldn’t find it in himself to forgive and forget so easily. Not after what happened with Steve. With the team. Getting attached was dangerous.
Maybe a little distance would do some good.
He told himself he'd reach out in the new year. Suit upgrades, status check-ins, whatever worked. He'd still keep an eye on Peter—he was still his responsibility —but from a distance. At arm's length.
It was safer this way.
Better this way.
He was caught off guard when he saw a voicemail from Peter's number on Christmas night. Normally, FRIDAY screened his calls, but he and Pepper had made a new rule: Day off means day off, phones on silent unless the world is ending.
It was one of the several boundaries they'd set when they decided to get back together. Real, intentional changes they'd promise to stick to if they were serious about a future together.
He was doing one last look at his messages before bed, Pepper was already curled up underneath the blankets with her latest thriller. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hit play.
Tony was greeted by the sound of ragged wheezing.“Hey, Mr. Stark…I know you don't want to hear from me again, but I…I didn’t know who else to call.” Peter’s voice cracked, small and strained. “I don’t feel great, and May isn’t home and I am…” He trailed off, and Tony could hear his heavy breathing, shaking and uneven. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. Just—just forget I called. I hope you’re having a good Christmas. And I'm sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me one day.”
Tony's heart skipped a beat. A thousand worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind, ones of Peter bleeding out in an alley somewhere, being in over his head. Alone. He shot up from the bed, his gut churning with dread.
“What? What happened?” Pepper asked, already closing her book.
“It’s the kid. I think…I think he’s hurt.” He immediately tracked the location and vitals of Peter’s spider suit. Peter's suit was still at his apartment. That was something—but not enough.
He redialed Peter's number.
No answer.
Again.
Again. Still nothing.
His pulse spiked with each unanswered call.
"I need to go see him, Pep," he said. "It could be nothing, but... he's alone on Christmas.”
Pepper’s brows were furrowed with concern. She had gotten out of bed while Tony agitatedly tracked Peter’s location. Even though Pepper didn’t know the kid as well as Tony, she had a soft spot for the young vigilante. He caught her more than once watching clips of Spider-Man on YouTube with a small smile.
Suffice it to say, she'd never been a fan of Tony’s no-contact rule with Peter.
“If you think it’s serious, you can fly to him in the suit," she said, pulling on a sweater, "I will bring the car around.”
Tony nodded grimly, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and shoved on his shoes. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought of how much time had passed since Peter left that message.
“FRIDAY set a course to the Parker apartment, ” he said as the armour assembled around him.
The flight felt like it took hours, even though it was only a couple of minutes. Tony landed quietly on the fire escape and knocked on the window. None of the lights were on, not even Christmas lights. He knocked again. Nothing.
" Damn it," he muttered, then smashed his armoured fist through the glass. He glanced around the small apartment as he stepped into the apartment. Dirty dishes cluttered the coffee table, but there was not a single decoration in sight. It was surprisingly sparse considering how much the kid seemed to drone on about Christmas.
“… Kid ? Peter? You home?”
He disassembled the suit and stepped out into the frigid living room. The cold air from the shattered window bit into his skin as he flipped on a nearby light switch. He moved past the dimly lit kitchen, heading toward Peter’s room—then stopped. There was a note on the kitchen counter.
Peter,
I’ve decided to spend Christmas away this year. After everything with Ben, I need space to figure things out, and being here isn’t helping. It’s too painful to be in this city where everything reminds me of him.
I didn’t make this decision lightly, but I can't keep putting my life on hold. I will be at my cousin’s place in Maine. I left $200 in the drawer if you need anything. If it's urgent, call Ned’s mom.
-May
He felt blood pounding in his ears as he read the note. What the fuck? He thought. What kind of guardian just... leaves? During the holidays?
His fury was immediate, but underneath it, he felt a spike of self-loathing. And after the way he left things... Of course the kid didn’t think he could call. Tony pressed his lips together. He needed to see Peter first, and then he could figure out the rest.
The bedroom door was ajar. The first thing he noticed was Peter's phone lying face-down on the floor. The screen was cracked as usual, but he could make out his 4 missed calls. He pocketed it quickly, eyes sweeping the room.
That's when he heard it; a low, laboured wheeze coming from beneath a mound of blankets on the bed. His heart dropped in his chest.
The sound was coming from Peter.
“Pete? Wake up,” He shook the boy’s shoulder; the kid was practically limp.
“ Peter ?!” Tony yelled, panic creeping into his voice. Please, Tony thought. Come on, kid. Tony placed his hand on the kid’s neck and marginally relaxed when he detected a strong pulse.
“I detect an elevated core temperature and increased respiratory rate," FRIDAY replied. "It appears that Mr. Parker is showing impaired air oxygen perfusion. Immediate medical treatment is advised.”
Tony’s heart slammed against his ribs. He scooped Peter's limp form into his arms. He desperately tried to swallow the lump of terror he felt as he saw Peter’s head loll to the side. “Should…should I fly him to the tower?”
“I would not recommend that course of action as the altitude and cold air could worsen his condition. Emergency vehicle response is 10 minutes, Ms. Potts will arrive in two. I recommend you transport Mr. Parker to the tower via a vehicle.”
Tony didn't hesitate. He wrapped Peter in a blanket and reassembled the suit around him. His HUD was locked onto the boy's vitals every step of the way. “Hang on, kid, ” he whispered.
Pepper's car screeched to a stop at the curb as he reached the bottom step.
“Oh My God. What happened?” She gasped, throwing open the door.
“Drive to the tower. Speed if you have to. He's barely breathing.”
She didn't ask questions. Not yet. Her face hardened with determination.
Tony slid into the back of the car and cradled Peter in his arms, securing him with one arm while the other pressed against the boy's clammy forehead, as they peeled away from the curb.
He knew Pepper probably had a thousand questions, but all he could think about were the what-ifs.
What if he had talked to the kid earlier? What if he tried to understand why the kid who had been nothing short of polite to him for months suddenly blew his top? He swallowed back his guilt.
“The kid was all alone while he was sick," Tony said hoarsely, eyes locked on Peter's pale face. " I…I don’t know how it got this bad. His aunt just left him for the holidays. Who the hell does that?”
Pepper's brow creased, “Do you know why?”
“ I—”
Suddenly, he could feel Peter shift in his arms. “Ben..? What..?” Peter weakly spoke out. His eyes fluttered, unfocused. He fumbled in his arms as he tried to get his bearings.
“ Peter?” Tony leaned in, brushing his hair back. The gesture seemed to soothe him. The kid stilled, gaze slowly finding Tony's face.
“Hold on, kid. We’re getting you help.”
“ I am… so sorry…Mr. st’rk,” Peter's voice cracked with effort. Each breath was shallower than the last.
“Don’t talk. I need you to focus on breathing, ok?”
Peter’s eyes seemed to lose focus again. He didn’t seem to hear him. “ Didn’t want… ruin Christmas… be a burden. ”
Tony's heart clenched. He tucked the boy closer to his chest. His eyes met Pepper's through the rear-view mirror. Her expression was a mirror of his own. Gutted.
He stroked Peter's hair with a shaking hand. “I'm here, kid. Just stay awake, alright? Pete...?”
Peter drifted off again, his body going lax around his grip. Tony quickly brought a trembling hand in front of Peter’s nose. Breathing. Barely.
“Pepper…” Tony croaked.
“Hold on.”
----
Tony turned the cracked phone over and over in his hand, thumb tracing the spiderweb of cracks across the screen.
He couldn't reconcile the pale-faced, spindly kid he'd seen a few hours ago with the Peter he remembered—the bright-eyed, over-enthusiastic kid from a few months ago. The contrast made his stomach churn.
May’s not like that . She can’t be.
But the nagging doubt in his mind didn’t go away so easily — not after seeing that note in the kitchen.
He pulled out his own phone and spoke quietly. “Friday, I want you to bypass Peter’s passcode. Call May Parker.”
He held Peter’s phone up to his ear.
It rang once. Then disconnected.
He tried again. The same thing.
His grip tightened around Peter’s phone, knuckles turning white.
He felt Pepper take a seat beside him. The scent of coffee wafted through the sterile air. Wordlessly, she pushed a cup of coffee into his hand and slowly extracted the phone from the death grip from the other.
“What’s going on?” she asked him softly.
He took a sip from his coffee. “I called May from his phone. It wouldn’t connect.”
“Did you try calling her from your phone?”
“I didn’t,” Tony let out a dry, mirthless laugh, “If it goes through and she picks up... I'll lose it .”
“Let me handle it,” Pepper said quickly.
Tony realized he must’ve looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown. His nerves certainly felt frayed at the edges. The longer he sat in the sterile stillness of the waiting room, the more the panic seemed to creep in. He was trapped in limbo, his body rooted to the chair while his mind was stuck in an endless loop of what-ifs.
Peter’s hospital room felt like Schrödinger's box—in his mind, Peter existed in two states at once, dead and alive. The thought clawed at Tony. The image of blue-tinted lips and his choked-out apology wouldn't stop replaying. His last words...his last thoughts were that he was a burden.
If Peter didn’t make it…he didn’t know if he could survive that. Hell, he didn't know if he deserved to.
“He’ll be okay,” Pepper said gently, as she could read his thoughts.
“You can’t know that.”
“I don’t know Peter,” she admitted, “but from the way you talk about him, it doesn’t sound like much can knock him down,” she said as she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Besides, he needs to know how much you care about him.”
“I —I already failed him, Pep. I mean, look at me—I’m a mess. What if I just hurt him again? I’ve done nothing but let this kid down.”
“You try again,” she said, steady and certain. “And you try better. Just like you always do.”
When Peter woke up, the first thing he noticed was the loud whooshing noise. There was something strapped to his face; it felt like someone was putting a leaf blower to his face.
He reached up clumsily and tugged, but tight straps secured it to his face. Claustrophobia surged in his chest and before he could tug harder, a calloused hand grabbed his arm.
“…Pete? Can you hear me? It’s Tony.”
“Mr. St’rk..?” Peter garbled out. His voice was slurred.
Only then did he realize he wasn't at home. The sterile white room hummed with the sound of machines. Tony sat in a plastic chair beside the bed, looking rumpled and exhausted.
“I’m going to call the doctor," Tony said. "They wanted to switch you to a nasal cannula once you were awake.”
Peter had a thousand questions. He tried to recall what happened, but everything was fuzzy. Mr. Stark didn’t look at him--his eyes were locked on the door as he waited for the doctor to appear. Tony's hair was a mess, and his jaw clenched. All he could think about was I ruined his Christmas too.
A woman in a white lab coat stepped through the door.
“Hey, Peter. I'm Dr. Murphy, one of the resident doctors here at Stark Tower. I know it's hard to talk with the ventilator on, but can you blink once if you understand me?”
Peter blinked.
“Ok, great. We'll get this off, and I'll answer any questions after.”
“I need to make a couple of phone calls,” Tony said, standing stiffly. Peter watched him go, flushing in disappointment.
Dr. Murphy worked quickly, she explained a bit about the equipment and what each thing was for to fill the silence, but he let the chatter wash over him. He couldn’t really find the energy to focus on what the doctor was saying. He scrunched his face as the nasal cannula tickled his nose.
Dr. Murphy handed him a cup of water, anticipating the dryness scraping at his throat.
"What…what day is it?” Peter rasped as he took a sip.
“It is the 26th of December.”
“What happened?”
Dr. Murphy tilted her head. “What do you remember?”
“Um… I remember I called Mr. Stark and then I think I had a hard time breathing. I don’t remember anything after that.”
She nodded.“Yes, Mr. Stark brought you in yesterday with acute respiratory failure due to pneumonia. Your lungs were having a hard time because you were sick. When you came in, you were unconscious and your oxygen was dangerously low. But we treated the infection with antibiotics, and your enhancements responded well. It just needed a tiny bit of help. We used some non-invasive ventilation to help you breathe, and you're improving fast. With your rate of healing, we expect you to make a full recovery.”
Peter stared down at the blanket, lips pressed together. He hadn’t realized it had been that bad.
Would May have even cared? Would anyone?
His gaze flicked to the door Tony had left through. The way he hadn’t met Peter’s eyes. The quick exit. He probably wants nothing to do with me either.
His stomach knotted with shame. He wanted Mr. Stark to stay with him, even if he hated him.
“When can I leave?” he asked quietly.
“I would like your oxygen saturation to be normal first," Dr. Murphy said. "And then I can discharge you to a trusted adult.”
Panic flickered in his chest. May was going to be so mad that she had to take a flight back from Maine just because Peter couldn’t seem to take care of himself.
“Ma’am—my guardian is out of the state right now. She's, um, really busy. Can I just discharge myself? I feel okay now.”
She gave him a kind look. “I understand, Peter. But it is the law. I have to release you to someone. I'm sure she'd want to be here if she could."
“It is okay, Dr. Murphy," Tony's voice said from the doorway. "I’ll be taking him. I am well acquainted with the Parkers.”
She looked mildly surprised but nodded. “Alright. He should be good to go in a couple of hours. Any last questions, Peter?”
Peter shook his head.
When she left, Tony retook his seat by the bed, quietly mulling something over his head.
“She’s really busy, huh?”
Peter bit his lip. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean to ruin your Christmas. I’ll be fine, really. You can just drop me off at home after.”
Tony's jaw clenched. “Jesus kid, Do you even know how I found you?” He raked a hand through his hair, visibly trying to keep it together. "You were barely breathing. I thought..." he pursed his lips. "You are not going back alone.”
Tears pricked at the back of Peter's eyes. He didn’t know how to explain it— May didn’t want him.
The thing was Peter had called May. Many times after he initially found the note. She'd blocked his number after the first five calls.
“It doesn’t matter," Peter said quietly. "I’ll be okay. ”
He didn't dare look up as he pictured the look of anger on Mr. Stark's face. He picked at a loose thread on the blanket instead.
“It matters to me, kid,” Tony said softly.
Peter looked up at him, startled. Tony's eyes were glassy. Tony leaned forward, his arm reaching for his hand, but he hesitated. Instead, he settled it on the bed, next to Peter’s arm, his gaze dropping to the IV in Peter's hand.
“I saw the note," he said, voice low. "How long ago did she leave?”
Oh.
He knows. He knows about how the last adult in his life didn’t want anything to do with him. He couldn’t stop himself as his eyes burned hot with shame. He scrubbed at his eyes, but the tears came anyway. “About two weeks ago," he whispered. "It’s my fault, Mr. Stark. I ruin everything. Just like I ruined the internship.”
I am a burden.
"I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me, ” his voice cracked, the words spilling out him.
And then, suddenly, warmth surrounded him. His mind stuttered as he registered that Mr. Stark was hugging him.
Peter froze for half a breath before melting into the hug. He couldn't remember the last time someone held him like this. It broke something open in him. He couldn't seem to stop the sobs that clawed out of him in ragged gasps.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark." Peter gasped. " I didn't—I never meant to— ”
“I know," Tony whispered, voice cracking, "I am sorry too. I — I never should've let you go that day.”
He pulled Peter closer. “When I found you…" Tony's voice trembled. "I was so scared that I was going to lose you. What May did — ” Tony's arms tightened around him. “No parent should ever do that to their kid.”
Peter shook his head, burying his face into Tony’s shoulder. “She left because of me.”
"No," Tony said firmly. "She left because of her. That's not on you. Not even a little."
It seemed to crack something else loose in Peter's chest. It was like the floodgates had opened when Mr. Stark confirmed what Peter had tried to ignore for the last couple of months. All the guilt he'd swallowed, the doubts he buried, the lonely nights he'd wished that someone had wanted him— it all came spilling out.
He cried for every moment he second-guessed himself. For every moment he felt like too much, or somehow not enough.
His tears soaked his mentor’s sweatshirt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care because it felt so good to be held.
Tony didn't seem to mind, either. He held on, murmuring quiet reassurances and rubbing gentle circles across his back.
“I need you to take a breath, kiddo," he said. "Your lungs are still healing.” Peter hadn't noticed the dull ache in his chest until then. He tried to steady his breathing, but the tears kept falling.
Tony shifted slightly, rocking them in slow, grounding motions. Tony’s fingers scratched the hair at the base of his neck. It was oddly calming—like muscle memory from a time he couldn't remember.
Eventually, his tears slowed, leaving him quiet and spent.
This is nice , Peter thought .
He wished he could stay like this forever. For the first time in months, his worries about May and being alone faded to a distant hum, dulled by the comforting weight of Mr. Stark’s arms and the steady rhythm of his hand in Peter’s hair.
Safe.
Sleep tugged at him, soft and easy.
His last thought before slipping under was simple and certain.
He was home.