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the funeral is small, and black, and bleak.
it’s so unlike his mentor’s complete demeanour that peter almost breaks the pinching of his skin just to let the tears flow. he blinks, straightens his back, and presses harder. he will not cry.
“tony stark was a man of many talents. genius, billionaire, ex playboy, philanthropist...he brought happiness - and annoyance - everywhere he went.”
steve’s voice was choked up, his eyes trained on the piece of paper under his chin. he wasn’t as strong as peter - tears spilled down his cheeks and rolled to a stop on his jaw like a stream. peter tried to forget the events of germany in that moment, tried to convince himself that steve’s anguish was genuine, and that the words he spoke were memories of a happier time before he’d lost his way. it didn’t work.
the captain steps down, straight onto a metal arm which embraces him from the side. with his heightened hearing, peter can hear the words being whispered from here, and his heart thumps. people cared so much.
“does anyone else want to say anything?”
rhodey’s voice was thick, too, but his eyes were only slightly wet. peter understood. they’d both already cried their eyes dry.
may’s hand on the small of his back becomes firmer, and she whispers for him to go to the podium. peter’s breath hitches, and he shakes his head minutely. if he moves his fingers away from his skin, he might just collapse there and then.
nobody says anything else.
there’s no words when pepper lets the small wreath of flowers float across the lake. the ring of straight lilies they’d let go for natasha floats across the river to his right. if peter looks closely, he can watch tony’s wreath floating gently over to natasha’s, like a small gravitational pull is linking the two friends even in the afterlife. peter pinches harder.
they walk back to the house in silence. peter’s throat is tight, and he’s not sure he could speak if he tried. he keeps his eyes trained on the ground, and shuts down. the pain becomes numb, and his lungs move slowly, automatically.
(god knows he’d stop breathing if he could.)
nobody knows what to do. it doesn’t seem right to stand in silence and cry, but it doesn’t seem right to drink and celebrate his life. nothing seems right anymore.
people bustle past him, talking in hushed voices and occasional half-hearted laughs. there are people here peter would have never ever thought would have appreciated tony stark, but they stand around with eyes red and sore and yeah. people really did care.
the guardians leave, and then people start trickling out slowly. harley tries to make small talk with him, before leaving quickly in a flurry of gasps and sobs, and peter’s alone in the kitchen all of a sudden.
if he could blink himself out of the dissociation, he would. he’s completely still, blinking only when his body automatically instructs his nerves to do so. he’s barely breathing, and he’s glad.
the numbness doesn’t last long. all of a sudden, there’s a ringing in his ears, and his stomach is churning. stars appear at the front of his eyes, and peter lurches forward to collapse down to the floor. if anybody hears the noise, they don’t check to see if he’s okay. he’s grateful.
sweat beading up on his forehead, peter lies warily on the floor and tries to stop the shaking in his body. he feels like he’s floating and he turns his body to the side, curling into himself. if he’s going to faint, he’d rather do it on the floor.
his head swims as the pressure on his skin breaks and the tears flow. he’d thought that in the past few weeks he’d managed to cry every last tear out of his body, but he lies on the cold tiled floor and sobs, ugly screams tearing through his throat.
he no longer cares that people may hear him. he presses his hands further into his stomach just to try and stop the agony that courses through his veins when he remembers he’ll never have another lab day with mr. stark again.
may’s by his side, whispering gentle nothings and trying to coax him into a sitting position, but he flinches away from her and chooses to curl into himself even tighter. the tears choke up through his throat and close off his airway, leaving peter a choking, spluttering mess.
“it’s okay. you can breathe, i promise you.”
may’s words are soft, but they’re not tony’s. his mentor had talked him down from so many panic attacks that any time they happened, peter had immediately called him. now, lying on the floor, mind swirling like he’s about to pass out, he realises he’ll never have that opportunity again.
the pain hits him harder than it has before. of course, he’s grieved, but he’s never let himself mourn. people had warned him that the only way to move on was to mourn, and peter feels a wave of sickening guilt wash over him. he can’t get over tony. not now. not ever.
“hey, pete. you need to get off the floor, okay? i’m gonna help you.”
it’s pepper this time. of course it is. may’s too frail, and peter’s too far gone. even as pepper gently hoists her arms under his armpits, he screams half heartedly and writhes in her arms. when he’s still, he can convince himself he’s dying - when he moves, the blood rushing through his brain proves to him that he’s not.
“pete, you need to calm down.”
morgan’s stood just behind may, staring at peter with a thumb tucked under her crooked teeth. her mousy brown hair has gotten too long, and it falls into her dry eyes when she shuffles.
peter glares as hard as he can. she looks exactly like him.
“c’mon, sweetheart, let’s go find happy.” may murmurs, but peter doesn’t tear his glare away from morgan. tears are building up in his eyes again, and he realises with a pound of guilt that his glare never would be directed towards a child.
he hates how tony’s left them both alone.
peter’s in pain, but when morgan’s little legs shuffle away, her head turning gently to peek at peter as she walks away, he finds himself more angry than upset. tony’s left them alone in this horrible, horrible world, and he can’t find it in himself to forgive to older man right now.
the tears are slowly stopping, but the pain in his heart doesn’t cease. when he shakily gets to his feet, overcome with grief and anger and pain, he clutches at his chest and chokes on air. if it was possible to physically feel your heart breaking, peter knows for sure that this would be it.
pepper’s arm around his shoulders is a gentle reminder that he’s still alive. whether he hates it or not, tony left him (all alone in this horrid, horrid world) and he has a responsibility. when he sits numbly on the couch, and morgan hesitantly takes his hand in her tiny fingers, his lungs learn to work again.
he has a reason to breathe again, and it’s so that this baby girl won’t ever have to feel the agony that peter’s body has fought in his sixteen years of living. he gently squeezes her fingers, and lets her press her warm, small body against his side.
when happy turns on the projector, peter nearly can dissociates again. he supposes he does, because when he blinks, pepper is crying and morgan has moved away to tuck herself under her mother’s arm.
he tries to watch tony’s smiling face without crying. he tries not to let his hands shake when the hologram instructs FRIDAY to play his favourite song from the eighties. they watch projection tony dance and laugh, before he tells his AI to lay dormant again.
he tries, and he tries. it’s all he can do.
”so. i’m assuming that if you’re watching this, something terrible has happened. or, i’m sat right there,” he points to an empty spot on the couch. pepper knew exactly where he would sit. “hopefully eating a cheeseburger.”
peter’s crying again, unable to tear his eyes away from tony’s face. lord knows he’d engrave this message into his brain just to replay his mentor’s voice over and over and over again.
“who am i kidding? everything’s going to work out perfectly. i’m awesome.”
pepper sniffles and lets out a weak laugh. her eyes are straining at the projection, almost as though if she blinks, she’ll lose his face forever. peter understands.
“hey.” tony looks straight at morgan, at where he knows she’s sitting, and smiles. “i love you three thousand.”
the little girl beside peter tenses, and he feels a small hand wrap around his finger. she doesn’t understand, but peter knows she will. he’ll make it forever his goal to prevent this baby going through the agony he’s experiencing every time tony’s hologram takes a breath.
his mentor turns, and sits in the chair behind him in the recording. he’s already meddling with a suit, and peter zeroes in on the framed picture on the desk. the one he and mr. stark took to prove to may that he had a real internship.
peter sobs, and it’s as though tony can hear, because his projection turns around, all scruffy and soft and so real that peter can almost smell the aftershave he used to wear on dates with pepper.
tony’s projection smiles, crinkly and pixely, but still just mr. stark, and he waves nonchalantly. “go on, then. as you were.”