Chapter Text
Peter knew that his parents never actively tried to ignore him. No, he knew that life got in the way sometimes, that his brother always struggled more than he did, he knew that there were people that needed to be handled and problems that needed to be solved.
That didn’t make it hurt any less.
In retrospect, it was probably his own fault. When it was just him and his parents, before Harley came along, it was easy for him to connect with them. They’d adopted him when he was still really young, barely old enough to remember his biological mom and dad. He grew up with them, they raised him, they fought with him, they helped him get ready for his first school dance back in seventh grade, they helped him study for (almost) every test, and complete every project, they saw him off on his first day of school, both trying (and failing) to conceal the tears that threatened to fall, they watched him stumble, they helped him get back on his feet, they loved him. He knew that.
He also knew that Harley wasn’t so lucky.
Harley remembered his mom, he watched her battle her illness, he watched her lose, he remembered his dad, the day that he left to go get scratchers and then never came back. Peter knew that Harley’d grown up with clothes that never fit, with the same threadbare coat barely keeping him warm during the winter year after year, that kids were bigger than him constantly pushed him around(not that Peter wasn’t pushed around too, but no one knew about that), that he always struggled in school, despite his intelligence.
Peter knew that Harley had already lost and suffered so much, so he didn’t have much ground on which to complain.
It all started the day that Harley moved in with them. Peter, being fourteen at the time, was bursting with excitement at the prospect of a brother, something he’d been begging his parents for for as long as he could remember. In the weeks preceding that day he’d often be caught daydreaming about late night Star Wars marathons that their parents would scold them about the next morning, intense and long Mario Kart tournaments, spending hours upon hours building Lego sets, geeking out over the fact that their parents were literal superheroes, and so much more.
Yeah. Needless to say that none of that happened, not even once.
When Harley walked through their front door on that fateful day, he entered with a frown on his face. It was understandable, considering everything, but it still through Peter off a little bit. He was expecting the boy that he’d seen in pictures, the one with shaggy brown hair, most likely cut using a bowl on the top of his head, that had sparkling eyes and a wide grin as he stood next to his mother. Instead, Harley’s eyes looked dull and empty, a mute brown that conveyed no emotion. His hair was cut short, likely by a professional this time, and looked to have had a hand constantly run through it. He was also older than Peter was expecting. It turns out that Harley was a year older than him, not younger as he had thought.
Tony and Pepper rushed to greet Harley, leaving Peter alone on the couch, simply staring with wide eyes at his new brother. They took his duffel bag from out of his hands and showed him to his room, all thoughts of introductions seemingly forgotten.
The rest of the day went about as Peter had expected. His parents were preoccupied with the newest addition to their family and he didn’t get much thought. He understood, he stayed out of their way, he tried not to be a nuisance. It worked, maybe a little too well. At dinner, Peter tried to start a conversation with his brother, but to no avail. Harley simply gave him an unenthused glance and continued eating his pasta.
Peter didn’t try to talk much after that.
Over the next few weeks and months, Peter discovered a new sense of normal. One that contained less of his parents, barely any of his brother, and a whole lot of his room. He’d wake up early in the morning, before the rest of his family, shower and throw some clothes on, grab a piece of fruit for breakfast, and walk to school. He’d meet up with Ned by Delmar’s and they’d geek out the rest of the way over the upcoming Star Wars film or next lego set they had to build.
Outside of his home, life was pretty good.
Sometime around the second week with Harley, Peter started to avoid everyone. He always ended up feeling like a fourth wheel. So he’d hide in his room, wake up earlier than he needed to, stay silent at family meals, he’d make himself invisible. As if he never existed. When his parents did occasionally try to talk to him he’d put on a mask he’d only just began to develop, tell them exactly what they wanted to hear, and make an excuse to leave again.
He couldn’t tell if they even cared or not.
Everything started to go to shit around the sixth month with Harley. Peter, with his perfect luck, somehow managed to get bitten by (what did they call it?) A fucking radioactive spider, while on a field trip his parents forgot about. He was a sophomore now, almost fifteen, dealing with all the trials and tribulations of being a teenager. He had a crush on a girl, a senior who was completely out of his league, perfect grades, and a homecoming dance that he had to worry about.
Harley, a junior, paid no attention to him, per the usual.
When Peter got sick after the bite his parents let him stay home, but didn’t care for him at all. They both still had work. He understood like he always did. He didn’t call when it got so bad that he felt like he was going to die. Like actually die. They would have called him over-dramatic and told him to just go back to sleep. He vomited, slept a little, cried from the excruciating pain, vomited a little more, sleep didn’t come again. His parents checked on him once in the three days that he was bedridden. Harley had a panic attack on the second night that he was sick, a new experience for everyone, so once again he became the top priority. By the third night, Peter was starting to feel better again. He simply asked that his dinner be sent up to his room. It was, by a bot. Peter was too tired to care.
No one seemed to notice when he stopped spending so much time at the house. Before Harley came around when Peter would stay over at Ned’s he’d call, asking if it was all right. It would be. But then his calls stopped getting answered and his voicemails never received.
He stopped calling.
He used to announce when he was going out, just so that everyone was aware. Harley made fun of him for it once, his parents stopped hearing him. He stopped that too.
It’s funny. Only a year ago, Peter actually talked to his parents. Had conversations with them on a daily basis, enjoyed being in their company. He used to waste days away with Tony in the lab, spend movie nights cuddled up next to Pepper, not caring about whether or not he was too old. Now he spent more nights at Ned’s house and the other Avengers’ than his own. He listened to the muffled AC/DC pouring out of his father’s lab as he and Harley worked. He tried to ignore the laughter echoing down the halls at a joke that he wasn’t a part of. Sure, Pepper would still smile at him when they passed in the hall and Tony would pat him on the shoulder as they walked past each other. But it was never like it was.
No one else knew that anything was off with Peter. FRIDAY noticed because she always did. (She told him that he was depressed, that he should make more of an effort to connect with people. Peter countered with the fact that people stopped making an effort with him. He knew it was a week argument. She hasn’t said anything since.) But none of the Avengers that he spent nights with on a daily basis knew that anything was wrong. Steve thought that Peter had just taken an extreme interest in American History. Natasha thought that he just wanted more training, to be able to protect himself. Bruce thought that he was just helping Peter with his complex honors chemistry homework, and maybe conducting a few experiments. Clint just appreciated Peter watching his kids, considering the fact that they genuinely enjoyed being around him. Whenever Peter was with them he wore the mask he’d perfected over time, the one that said everything the people around him wanted to hear and showed the emotions that they wanted to see.
Nothing more, nothing less. That was how Peter lived his life.
Until he held a girl as she died.