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Dust.
It was strange, turning into dust. Peter really couldn’t tell if it was watching everyone else slowly crumble to gray flecks of nothing or the fact that his insides tickled and burned in the worst possible way, but some part of it all just made him feel like a kid with his first fever again. Nauseous. Awful. Terrified.
“Mr.Stark, I-I don’t feel too good”
If he felt even just a tiny bit more in his right mind, he’d be so mortified for admitting it. Like yeah Pete, way to prove that you’re a super capable Avenger; go ahead and act like a seven year old that just went on his first kitty coaster to the most successful dude on the planet - super cool and capable sounding.
But he really couldn’t care that he probably just embarrassed himself. He really couldn’t think of anything, really - just that he felt like if he stopped gripping his sides, all of his ashed organs would spill out from his chest. Like if he let himself go, he’d fade away just like the others.
(God, he can’t even remember their names. Would anyone remember his name? Is there anyone left to remember his name?)
“I don’t know what’s happening, I d-don’t know-”
He’s gripping onto Mr.Stark’s dented suit like maybe he can hold him together. If there’s anyone in the entire universe who can help him, it’s Mr.Stark. He’ll help. He’ll save him. He’s done it so many times, he’s a genius, he can save Peter from fading like everyone else, please.
Oh. Oh, that’s his fingers. They’re gray, they’re crumbling, and so are his toes, and the points of his knees that stick out and oh, oh god it’s happening, it’s happening, it’s not gonna stop. The suit's crumbling away too - and yeah, it's kind of nice that the suit won't turn into his cremation baggie, but he'd only just gotten this suit and it was probably worth millions and Mr.Stark will be pissed and-
Peter really wants to go home.
The last thing he said to Ned was “create a distraction”, and he never said anything to MJ about all the things he should have said and he didn’t even see Aunt May before he left for his school trip - the school trip he’d been looking forward to for ages. He never got to go to the space exhibit at MOMA. He’ll never see that stupid comet exhibit, he’ll never see anything again and-
“I don’t wanna go Mr.Stark, I don’t wanna go, please, I don’t wanna go-.”
He can feel his muscles turn to nothing until he can hardly stand. He can hardly breathe, this sucks.
Mr.Stark had been gripping him just as tightly back, stuttering out something but Peter couldn’t hear- oh, he really couldn’t hear. He just felt his knees give way to nothing and felt the contact of his back on the rocky ground below, but he heard nothing. All the noise had left, but he could still feel his own heartbeat in his ears. He could feel Mr.Stark gripping his shoulder, he could feel his legs turn to dust. But his ears had faded, or something inside that processed sound. He felt his stomach cave to nothing, and he had just one breath left in his lungs to say something to Mr.Stark, who was looking at him like he was still trying to find a way to save what was left of Peter while having the look of someone who knows that they can do nothing to stop this from happening.
Man, it must really suck to have to watch someone die.
Maybe he should’ve stayed quiet, like the big blue guy had. Or said something aloof and kinda cool, like the other human dude.
All he’s done is put this look on Mr.Stark’s face.
“I’m sorry” Peter forces out, using his last breath on the syllables. He really was. He didn’t listen to Mr.Stark again, he followed him and hindered him and he put him through all this when he didn’t have to. Peter’s not sorry that he tried his best to protect Earth. He’s just sorry for putting Mr.Stark through this with him.
But the other man’s face didn’t lighten. It didn’t look relieved, or at ease like Peter had hoped. He just looked heartbroken. He opened his mouth to say something - maybe he did, Peter wouldn’t know. But all the sudden, his chest collapsed, and the dust curled up his neck and around the back of his head. He watched Tony as the dust clouded his view, and he wondered for a moment what would happen after him. He wondered if Tony would be alright.
And then -
Dust.