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Every Wednesday, when Peter walks into therapy, Dr. Holsten asks him the same question.
“How are you today, Peter?”
He always replies with a shape. “I’m... a circle.” She nods, as though it makes all the sense in the world.
“I see. Can you elaborate on that?” she asks.
Peter fidgets in his seat and thinks of Mr. Stark sitting in the waiting area for him. Good job, Peter, now you’ve made a genius billionaire take time out of his schedule every week because you’re a baby who couldn’t keep it together. He probably hates you. God.
Peter tries to think of the way Tony claps his shoulder proudly following a breakthrough in the lab, or the way Tony smiles fondly when he says something particularly nerdy, but then he remembers that it’s all probably out of a sense of obligation and hates himself all over again for wasting the man’s time.
“My thoughts are on a loop,” Peter says simply.
“What kind of thoughts?” she prompts.
“Curved ones. They start somewhere and then they’re somewhere else, but they always end up back where they started.” He knows he’s making little sense, so he’s grateful for the way Holsten’s patience never falters.
“That makes sense. And this loop – is it bad?”
You’re nothing, Peter Parker. Tony Stark only keeps you around for Spiderman. Peter Parker is weak. Soft. Vulnerable. Peter Parker is worth nothing more than dust.
“No,” Peter says truthfully. “It’s not bad. It just is.”
His whole life is made up of things that just are. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want out.
But she doesn’t ask, so he doesn’t tell.
-
On a good day, he walks into Tony’s kitchen and steals pizza out of the fridge.
Peter likes food, because it’s something that fills him up and tricks him into thinking that he’s something more than the fragile shell that burst into fine grains of dust all those months ago.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony greets, walking in and snatching a slice out of the box.
“Hi, Mr. Stark!” Peter says enthusiastically, and Tony sighs dramatically.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Tony. Mr. Stark just makes me sound old,” Tony whines.
Peter smirks. “Oh, you mean you’re not old, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks cheekily, and Tony has to take an actual moment to fight the urge to shove the pizza into the kid’s mouth so he can’t talk anymore.
“You little shit!” Tony exclaims instead. Peter smiles widely and ducks as Tony reaches to ruffle his hair.
“But I’m your little shit,” he reminds him. Tony doesn’t think he could ever forget.
“So how was school?” Tony asks, and wonders what about this kid has reduced him to asking such mundane and domestic questions.
Peter shrugs, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. “It’s school.” He doesn’t elaborate but mostly because there isn’t much to elaborate on.
Tony gives him a sly look. “And how’s your lady friend?” Tony asks. “The scary one who doesn’t like me.”
Peter blushes, becoming immediately flustered. “MJ? She’s just, you know, she’s my friend. Just friends. We’re not not friends if that’s what you’re asking. She’s cool! She’s MJ.”
Tony raises an eyebrow, suddenly hit full force by just how much of a kid Peter is that it almost knocks him off his feet. This kid, who has lost so much, been through so much, is still just an awkward teenager who wears shirts with nerd puns and gets flustered around girls.
Luckily for Peter, FRIDAY chooses that moment to interrupt. “Boss, Natasha has invited you and Peter to join her and Steve. They are currently sparring.”
Tony pauses, looking at Peter uncertainly.
“What do you think, kid? Are you up for it?”
The last time they’d tried sparring with the team, Peter had a panic attack as soon as he’d touched the mat. He didn’t like the soft cushion, he’d later told Tony. It was unsteady, made him feel like the world was giving way around him.
Now, Peter hesitates, having an internal battle with himself, and Tony holds his breath. Finally, after a tense moment, Peter hops off the counter and pushes past him, stopping when he doesn’t hear Tony following him.
“Well, come on, old man! Or are you too afraid I’m going to show you up in all my youthful glory?” Peter taunts.
Tony gives him an incredulous look and follows after him, shaking his head. But inwardly, he’s relieved and more than a little proud.
It’s a small thing, but it’s progress.
-
“How are you today, Peter?” Dr. Holsten asks as soon as he’s settled into the chair.
“I’m an X,” he says, without hesitation.
“Oh? How so?” she prods. Peter thinks for a moment, trying to figure out how best to word it.
“I had a panic attack earlier and then I was nothing, and now I’m just this dull buzz. It’s like the anxiety and the absence of it met in the middle and canceled out and now I’m just. Here.”
God, Peter, why can’t you ever say what you mean to say? Spiderman doesn’t have this problem. Spiderman is better. You should be better.
Dr. Holsten studies him for a moment, making a humming noise in the back of her throat. Peter tries not to squirm under her gaze. “Did you dissociate today?”
“Maybe? Probably. It’s all fuzzy, so I guess I did.” Peter shrugs. Tony had told him that dissociating isn’t healthy, but Peter doesn’t really see the big deal. He likes being absent.
(If he’s absent, he can’t be turned to dust.)
“When did you break out of it?” Holsten asks, and he tries to remember the moment where things became clear again.
“Um. Probably when Mr. Stark came to pick me up for my appointment,” he says, and Holsten nods as though that explains a lot.
“Do you feel safer around Mr. Stark?” she questions. Peter knows, without a second thought, that the answer to her question is yes. But he also knows that’s not quite what she’s asking, so he chooses his words differently.
“It’s not as hard to be present when I’m with him.”
(Yes, he feels safer with Tony.)
-
On a bad day, Peter sits on the roof of a random building.
He knew, from the moment he woke up with a scream on his lips, that today was going to be a bad day. The unsteadiness from his dream seems to bleed into reality, and he can’t help but feel like his world is going to disintegrate around him at any second.
Peter’s legs swing over the edge of the roof, and he can’t help but notice how much different sitting up so high feels to Peter Parker compared with Spiderman. Without the suit, Peter is much more vulnerable. Breakable.
He can’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind breaking, that maybe it would be worth it if it were the last time he’d ever have to break.
Peter closes his eyes and imagines how a conversation with Dr. Holsten would go.
“How are you today, Peter?”
“I’m a spiral,” he would answer.
“Can you explain?” She always made it sound like a question, but he knew it was more of a demand.
“My thoughts are going in in in and there’s no getting rid of them because they just get tighter and tighter until it’s the only thing left. It’s choking me. I’m a spiral and I don’t want to be a spiral, I’d rather be a line because lines don’t bend back in on themselves, they just keep progressing, but I’m stuck as a spiral.”
“What are you going to do about it, Peter?” she’d ask. She was always an advocate for brainstorming solutions to various mental issues.
“I’m going to jump out of it,” he would say. And the whole conversation would be metaphorical enough that maybe she’d forget to consider that maybe he’s being literal.
(She wouldn’t. She was always smart enough to see right through him.)
He sits and let the wind hit him, lets it push him forward just enough to feel a thrill at the possibility of falling. It’s enough to make his head silent, if only for a moment.
“Peter?” The voice is confused and maybe a little panicked, and Peter pulls away from the edge in alarm.
Immediately, the spiral starts up again.
You’re weak, Peter Parker. You were blown away once and you were so weak and it could happen again, it’s going to happen again because you’re not worth the effort it takes to keep you around.
You’re made of stardust, Peter. The product of stars imploding and exploding and it was always predestined for you to do the same.
Tranquility is for the deserving, and that was never you.
Shutupshutupshutupshutup -
He leans forward, and it goes quiet again.
Yes, he thinks, looking at the ground. It would be worth it.
“Peter.” The voice is sharper now, more insistent, and he hears footsteps coming closer.
When he turns around, he’s met with Tony Stark looking more scared and worried than he’s ever seen him.
You put that look there, Peter. People hurt because of you. Stop hurting them.
“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter greets, as though they’re meeting for coffee and not on the edge of the roof he’s going to jump off of.
“Hey, kiddo. Wanna tell me what you’re doing up here?” Tony asks, still inching forward.
“It was loud,” Peter says, and it’s not what he wanted to say but it’s all he knows how to say. “It was loud, but now it’s quiet. I like quiet.”
Tony nods. “Okay.” He paused for a moment, full of caution and nervous anticipation. Fear. “Can it be quiet over here, maybe?”
Peter considers this, but he feels the gentle push of wind and shakes his head. Tony lets out a stressed breath.
“Okay,” he says. “We can work with that. Can I sit with you?”
Peter nods, and Tony’s face melts into one of relief. Tony quietly shuffles over and carefully sits next to the boy, studying him carefully. He’s tipping over the edge enough that Tony’s heart is racing, but that doesn’t scare him nearly as much as the serene look on Peter’s face when he does.
“How are you today, Peter?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
Peter startles at the echo of his therapist’s words. He thinks back to his imagined conversation and decides to try the truth. Tony is, after all, an engineer. He can fix almost anything. Maybe he can fix Peter, too.
“I’m a spiral,” he tells him. It’s another minute before Peter continues, and Tony watches something swell within the kid, a mixture of pain and fear and apathy. Peter turns big eyes on Tony, and the older man’s breath catches at the pleading look in the teen’s eyes.
“I don’t want to be a spiral, Mr. Stark,” he says, and a hand comes up to desperately clutch at Tony’s sleeve. “Please, make it quiet, I don’t want to be a spiral I can’t do this, I have to – I have to make it silent – I have – “
He tips forward again, and Tony doesn’t even think before wrapping his arms around the shaking teen, pulling his weight back into him and away from the edge.
For a scary moment, Peter struggles, his mind screaming at him to jump out of the spiral, Peter Parker, jump, and Tony’s heart beats out of his chest. The kid thrashes against him, but Tony gently pulls him into his chest and rocks them both soothingly.
“Shhh, Peter, it’s okay,” he murmurs, and his voice cracks a little bit, because his kid is in pain and wants to die and all he can think is, I can’t lose him again.
Peter’s crying now, softly, occasionally rambling his distraught. “I’m a spiral, Tony, I have to jump out, you don’t understand!”
Tony brings a hand to the back of Peter’s head and tries, with everything he has, to hold Peter together. He’s an engineer, but he can’t fix this with tools and he’s at a loss.
“It’s okay,” he repeats, and it’s not okay but it’s a lie he’s willing to tell them both. “We’ll make it quiet,” he promises, squeezing the kid tight, and his heart clenches at the way Peter looks up at him, eyes full of desperate hope. “But not this way,” he says firmly, a conviction.
Peter nods, throwing all of his trust into his mentor’s hands, and Tony prays to whatever God there is that he doesn’t drop it.
They hold onto each other tightly, and it’s not quiet, not yet.
But there’s hope that it will be, and for now, that’s enough.