Chapter Text
Title Inspiration - Everything Moves by Bronze Radio Station
Even though I don’t know quite what to do.
The time will show what we know is hardly ever true.
Tears burn the boy's eyes.
He tries to keep quiet - to control the stream of tears that leak from the corners of his eyes - as he stands in the background of his mentor's funeral. He needs to stay strong, this isn't the place or time for him to break down. And despite the aching pain in his chest, he's not sure that he could actually cry in public right now.
Peter can't stand the thought of the other heroes seeing his tears and the puffiness of his eyes after so many nights of broken crying, but he can't ignore the aching grief within. Salty tears are burning, chokes are threatening to work their way through his throat, and his wrists tingle with the threat of his own insanity. He refuses to feel weak in front of the other great saviors, but he's not sure how much longer he can keep himself in control.
Peter quickly wipes his tears with the tissue in his left hand, doing his best to be sneaky and unnoticeable, but there's no doubt that the other heroes catch his movements. He wishes he was anywhere else, where he could be alone in his sadness, but instead he knows they're judging his every move, and he hates it.
In the young hero's eyes, he needs to be as strong as the veterans that he fought alongside. Not a single one of the other heroes are crying today. But Peter is. They can see every bit of his weakness through his tears.
He's too young, too emotional, and unable to save anyone. It's his weakness that affected his strength and made him distracted in the final battle. He was too terrified to do anything right. And it's this weakness and love that got his greatest idol killed that treacherous day.
The poor boy. He doesn't understand what's really going on. The other heroes are experiencing the same damaging pain over losing Tony and Natasha, the same fearful grief and guilt. They are hurting beyond description - filled to the brim with anger and remorse - but are too stubborn to show their tears in front of the others. They've spent their whole lives forcing them self to stay strong too.
Peter's tears bring sorrow to the surrounding heroes - their hearts swell with their own pain, but there's something even worse about watching the youngest of their own lose his father figure. They've all seen the relationship of the two. He's truly part of this broken family.
There's a protective air that Peter can't yet sense. He's too lost in his feelings. He's unaware the other Avenger's have accepted Peter as one of their own - someone who must be protected at all costs - and it fills their hearts with pity to see the boy so distraught. He's not only a hero. He's one of the family now.
To Peter's left stands Harley Keener. A name only muttered to Peter a few times by his former mentor, but who also seems to be torn by his loss. The similarly aged teenager seems to be broken as well. Peter doesn't feel close to Harley, but there's a vague recognition that Harley once saved his mentor's life and for that he's appreciative. If only Peter could have done the same.
To Peter's right stands Morgan Hope Stark - a soft little brunette who beams with the same chaotic-good energy as her dad. Peter shares no bond with the little girl - she's twirling her dress playfully like nothing has changed - but Peter finds himself completely enamored by her innocence and kindness. He can feel himself becoming responsible for the little girl in Tony's absence.
Tony always saw you as her big brother. He couldn't wait to introduce the two of you.
Pepper's words sting as they echo in the back of Peter's mind, bouncing around as he tries to force out the sounds of the surrounding forest, but they hurt him so badly. The words force him to consider the life Tony's built without him and the way he was so easily replaced. Then he remembers the absolute pain that his mentor must have felt in the destruction of the snap, and he feels horrible for ever thinking of Tony in a negative light.
This isn't fair. None of it is. Not for any of the remaining heroes, but especially not for the Stark family that needs to rebuild without their father in a ripped up world. It's a world Peter cannot begin to imagine, but bears the responsibility of fixing.
And as difficult as the funeral is for Peter, he can't imagine the future that Morgan has ahead of her. Peter knows all too well the pain of losing parents; the complete emptiness inside that swirls within you when you grow up without your mother or father. It's something he would never wish on anyone, let alone someone that he's supposed to consider extended family. He owes it to Tony to give her the best life possible.
Peter takes a deep breath as the final words are spoken. The crowds begins to disperse - breaking into small social groups that Peter can't find the energy to deal with - and he wonders what he should do now. He doesn't belong with any of the other groups, but he especially can't find the willpower to force himself into a conversation when he feels so crappy.
All he wants to do is find a secluded place, so that he can break down and properly cry. Maybe high up in a tree where no one will be able to find him. That would be optimal.
Happy gives the boy a quick nod as he scoops up Morgan and takes her over to the porch. She's already yawning from the day's events, but there's a sadness to Happy's eyes that she doesn't seem to understand. Peter catches a glint of guilt as the man abandons Peter for the little girl.
Peter doesn't blame him one bit, even if Happy is the only other person here that he knows on a semi-personal level. He understands that the young girl needs more help than an angsty teenager. And she has a blood relation to the family; something Peter's never truly had. She should be prioritized over him.
Peter forces a smile and nods to Happy in reassurance. He's okay being left behind a bit. He'll deal with his sadness on his own terms. He'd rather be alone right now anyway.
Instead of confiding to the other Avengers, or seeing if Pepper could use any help with the after funeral affairs, Peter prefers to find a secluded spot where no one will bother him. He worries he'll draw too much attention if he climbs any of the surrounding trees, so he instead settles at the end of the dock. This will give him some time to think and cry without the invasion of the other heroes.
He lowers himself to the ground, settling himself on the cold, wet wood of the deck. It's chilly and wet here and he can feel the dew of the morning soak through his newly purchased funeral clothes. The cold sends a freezing shiver down his spine, but the boy can't be bothered to move or care. He's been through so much worse in the last few days. This is comparatively nothing.
When he can't bear to listen to his own thoughts any longer, he reaches out his senses and listens in to the conversations around him. He knows what he's doing is wrong; he shouldn't be invading other's privacy like this, but he desperately needs a distraction before he spirals further.
"You good?"
"Mhm."
"Okay. You hungry?"
"Mhm," she says so nonchalantly that Peter's heartaches. Why is this so easy for her?
"What do you want?"
"Cheeseburgers."
Peter can't listen anymore. Happy's voice isn't comforting like he had hoped it would be - not when they're talking about his loss in such an effortless way. The words pull up memories that he's been trying to push down since the battle, but now they're burning up like acid in his throat.
The boy can't ignore the fact that Morgan shares so many similarities with her father. They're identical in attitude, favorite tastes, and even some physical traits. Every part of the little girl reminds Peter of what he's lost.
Morgan reminds him of the many evening internship quests to fetch late-night hamburgers, the banter between the two when a project becomes unexpectedly difficult and competitive, the sweet lovable nature that Tony always had hidden behind a wall of fears and injuries.
Tony must have been so proud of her. Everyone else seems to be.
Peter can barely stand the pain in his chest. He wants to see May. He needs to see May. He craves her gentle touch, to hold her close and never let her go again. He needs to know everything will be okay, to be reminded that things do get better with time.
May should be here right now. She should be helping Peter work through his grief and pushing through the dark thoughts that are starting to spin in his mind. He should be helping her rebuild in the aftermath of the snap. And he should be helping her recover too.
It isn't fair that she's missing. It isn't fair that everyone else seems to get their loved ones back, but he's somehow left here with nothing. No family, no friends, no one but himself in this crap shoot of a saved world.
He has no one. Not just here physically, but also emotionally.
He knows one thing for sure as he sits on the freezing cold pier, one fact that's strong in his mind through all the distress and worry. He can't rest until he finds May Parker.