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Stressed Out

Summary:

Peter laid back down on his bed and sighed. All of his thoughts were swirling and making him feel nauseous. Every time he tried to think his mind felt blurry and unfathomable.
Of all the days it just had to be today.
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Peter Parker has depression. He hasn't told May just how bad it is, not wanting to worry her anymore than he already has with him being Spider-Man and all. He's refrained from telling Tony, worried he'll look stupid in the eyes of his mentor, who's been through much worse than being depressed.

Notes:

[Unedited]
The titles (work and chapter title) are both Twenty One Pilots songs
Any future chapter titles are gonna be from this playlist :
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/291q9ehFvFpggonQvNKGk2

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Not Today

Chapter Text

"-So anyway, bring the suit over, we can work on some upgrades or just tinker around, whatever you want. Friday'll meet you upstairs" Peter hadn't spoken more than a hello after Tony called and asked him to come over to tinker in his workshop. He was thankful Tony hadn't noticed how quiet he was. Peter laid back down on his bed and sighed. All of his thoughts were swirling and making him feel nauseous. Every time he tried to think his mind felt blurry and unfathomable. “Not today. Of all the days it just had to be today.” He rolled over, loosely wrapping the covers around himself. All night he’d been up with intrusive thoughts bouncing around his head, stirring up and making his chest feel tighter and tighter until he’d finally passed out. Maybe if he went back to sleep he'd feel better, and the mind-numbing thoughts would go away. Thats a lie and you know it. He shut his eyes tighter, ignoring his thoughts. He knew he should look for his anti-depressants, skipping them would only make him feel worse, possibly sick in the long run. Who says you don't deserve to feel worse? He knew the thoughts were bad, but he didn't care, he was too fatigued to disagree with them.

He heard a small knock at the door before sleepily calling out "Come in." The door squeaked as May poked her head through and smiled at him. "Come on Peter get up. Just ‘cus it’s saturday doesn't mean you can sleep in all morning." Peter sighed and pulled the blankets tighter around his cold body. "Are you going over to Stark's today?" He furrowed his brows, thinking it over. Tony freaking Stark asks you to come over and you have to think it over? How fucking ungrateful is that? Peter shut his eyes, wishing for the thoughts to go away, to no avail. "Yeah, I-I guess I'll get up and go soon." He peeked through the covers and saw May smile before she left the room. Get out of bed, Mr. Stark's waiting for you and you've got the audacity to hold him up, because you're tired and lazy? Peter tossed the blankets aside and sat up, conceding to the thoughts only to quiet his mind.
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“You’ve barely eaten anything on your plate.” Good going zoning out dumbass. Now she’s noticed something’s wrong. Peter looked down at his food and picked at it with his fork. If you tell her she’ll be worried. You really want to stress her out more? May sighed and walked over, running a hand through his hair. “Are you okay?” Her worried voice gave Peter a sinking feeling of guilt. No. Peter nodded quickly and started shoveling food in his mouth. “Yep, yeah I’m fine.” She leaned over and looked at him. “Have you taken your pills?” Peter almost choked on his eggs. “Y-yeah I took ‘em after I got up. Really May I’m fine, I-I’m just excited to work on the suit.” She rolled her eyes and planted a kiss on his head, ruffling his hair before she stepped past the table and grabbed her purse. “Well I’m going out now,” She pulled on her long jacket and walked out the door. “Have fun and be safe!” She called from down the hall. You know you didn’t take your pills. Peter stood and grabbed his plate, putting his unfinished breakfast in the fridge. You lied right to her face. He grabbed his backpack, which was holding the suit, and strolled out the door. Fucking disgusting.  
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As he stepped through Tony's front door, he could almost feel the bags under his eyes drooping lower. I wonder if they'll be able to tell I fell asleep at 4 in the morning. He walked into the living area, and Friday's familiar voice rang out above. "Hello Mr. Parker! I'm sure you know how to get to the workshop on your own by now correct?" Peter nodded, swaying a bit, still tired as he walked down the stairs. "Karen says hi by the way." He mumbled out to Friday. "That’s nice." She replied. As much as Friday tried to hide it, he was sure she’d be smiling if he could see her. Tony’s excited voice came from below. “Get over here kid! I’ve got some ideas I want to run through ya. What do you think of spider legs?” Peter rolled his eyes and smiled. He jumped the last few steps, and stumbled on the landing. Need to sleep. He pulled his backpack off, throwing it onto a chair nearby and rolling up his sleeves. “Whaddya mean by spider legs?”
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They’d been working for almost two hours. It was fun to have something to take his mind off of things, but he couldn’t shake the wave of numbness settling over him. His head felt heavy and tired, and it wasn’t just from lack of sleep. He knew what that felt like. All of his thoughts were covered by what he could only describe as boring, fatiguing, static. And it was made worse by his exhaustion. The room around him seemed to sway and blend. “Hey pete,” Peter jumped at Tony’s voice, and knocked over the toolbox he was leaning against. Tony raised a brow. “Are you alright?” Peter nodded, opening his eyes wider, trying to look as awake as possible. And already you’ve fucked up, he knows something’s up, he’s going to ask about it, you should tell him, tell him and embarrass yourself, make him hate you. You deserve it. Tony stared for a moment before putting on a metal mask and a pair of worn gloves. “Well, we’re going to need some more microprocessors. There's a black case full of ‘em round the corner over there.”He didn’t ask about it. He probably didn’t mention it because he doesn’t care about you. Tony gestured to a short corridor before he snapped down his mask and lit a small blowtorch he was holding. He began welding tiny links of metal, tinkering with something he called ‘nanotech’. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t have invited me. Right?.

Peter caught himself zoning out again and turned, walking rigidly as he tried to stay awake. Wake the fuck up. How do you fall asleep when you’re getting the privilege to work with one of the smartest people in the world? You’re being such a burden. Peter kept walking, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. As he rounded the corner he spotted the black case right away. As he lifted it, the scent of fresh machinery filled his nose. He breathed in, embracing the smell, and opened the case. Just a quick look. The microprocessor blades were sleek, shiny, rectangular slides of metal. Each one had a pattern of lines created entirely out of data embedded into the metal. Peter ran a finger along the edge of one. Although they were called blades, they weren’t very sharp, let alone dangerous. Unless you want them to be. He gritted his teeth, dropped the blade back into the case, and shut the lid closed. C'mon, you deserve to hurt anyway. You know you do. He held the case at his side, getting it out of sight as his hands clenched around it. Can’t take your pills, can’t sleep like a normal person, can’t tell the truth. He shut his eyes, trying to wish the thoughts away. You’re a burden to everybody around you.You know it’s true. Peter dropped the case to the floor and covered his ears. He closed his eyes even tighter and clenched his teeth, trying to shut out the thoughts. DO it. You can’t get anything else right. If you can’t fucking handle it maybe you should give in. You know you want to do it. You have to do it. DO IT! He’d never felt more out of place. Stupid, insignificant him was sitting in the house of a billionaire of all people. He was thinking about cutting himself in the workshop of Tony fucking Stark. Peter crouched down and sat. Barely audible whispers made their way through his trembling lips. “Shut up, shut up. Just shut the fuck up please.” He felt his shoulders quivering. His stomach was hollow, his throat blocked, every breath he took made his lungs feel emptier. He told himself to breathe, but all he could focus on was the panic spreading through his body. He didn’t hear Friday, her voice filled with emotion she always kept hidden, as she called out to Tony to help him. He didn’t hear tools drop, or shoes squeaking against the floor, running.

He jolted out of alarm and realization when Tony gasped. He looked up at his mentor, his only father figure left. You don’t deserve him. He watched as Tony registered him huddled on the ground, hands over his ears, hyperventilating. Peter couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. Tony walked over and bent to Peter’s level. He put his hands on Peter’s arms and pulled his hands down from his ears. “Peter,” Tony started, his voice was quiet and unsure. Peter could feel Tony’s hands shaking. “I’m here, it’s okay. Breathe, slow down and breathe. C-close your eyes and just focus on me and my voice.” Peter closed his eyes like he was told, and did his best to slow his breathing. How could you let him see you like this. A sob jumped out of his throat, and he tried to focus on Tony’s arms wrapping around him. This is the worst thing that could ever happen. He tried to think about how Tony was rubbing rubbing his back and holding him. He tried to keep his tears off of Tony’s shirt, but Tony pressed his face closer, holding him tight and keeping him stable. Cry baby. Peter let Tony stand him up and walk him up the staircase. He let himself be sat down on a sofa, keeping his eyes closed the entire time. He wanted to open his mouth and cry his heart out and tell him how he’d felt, tell him his unshakeable feelings of I’m not good enough. He couldn’t bring himself to face Tony, as much as he wanted to. Don’t make yourself more of a burden on him than you already are. He kept his eyes shut out of embarrassment, and fear. Fear of being told his thoughts were right, and he didn’t deserve to be here. The sofa dipped as Tony sat beside him. He began carding  his fingers through Peter’s hair and pulled Peter’s head over to rest on his shoulder. His voice was uneasy. “Friday, call May Parker.” Peter felt his few hours of sleep catching up with him. He embraced the escape of exhaustion, letting his head fall onto Tony’s lap as he passed out.  -