Work Text:
Peter Parker didn’t really know what he was doing.
It was one of those days where he felt like he was sinking.
He sat at his desk, surrounded by textbooks and notebooks that barely made sense. His head felt like it was filled with static. He had just finished patrolling the city and was trying to catch up on homework. But the problem was, he couldn’t seem to focus. His mind kept bouncing between the physics test he had tomorrow and the unsettling reality that his bank account had been running on fumes for weeks.
The blinking cursor on his chemistry assignment taunted him, mocking him as it waited for him to finish his work. He couldn’t focus. He’d been like this all week—exhausted from patrols, overwhelmed by school, and constantly worried about Aunt May’s health and finances. The weight of it all felt suffocating.
His phone buzzed, and Peter didn’t even need to look at it to know it was Tony. Tony had a way of knowing when Peter was in over his head.
The last thing he wanted right now was to have a conversation—especially one that involved admitting how much of a mess he was.
Peter’s hands hovered over his keyboard. He had told Tony he was fine the last time they’d texted, but he knew Tony wouldn’t believe that. Tony never did. And Peter couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down. Not again.
Still, the buzz of the phone persisted. He sighed heavily and pushed himself out of the chair. He crossed the room and picked it up.
“I can almost hear you stressing through the phone. Stop being a perfectionist, and take a break. The test isn’t going anywhere.”
Peter smiled faintly, despite the suffocating weight of everything on his shoulders. He appreciated Tony’s attempt to lighten the mood, but it didn’t change the fact that Peter couldn’t take a break. If he stopped now, everything would fall apart. He couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to let anyone down—not Aunt May, not his friends, and definitely not Tony.
He didn’t know why Tony cared so much about him, but it felt good. Too good. Peter wasn’t used to people looking out for him.
His fingers hovered over the keys, typing out a response. He wanted to tell Tony how overwhelmed he was—how much everything hurt right now. How hard it was to keep pretending everything was okay. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to type the words. He couldn’t ask for help. Not from Tony. Not from anyone. The last thing Peter needed was to add his burdens to Tony’s.
Instead, he wrote something simple.
Peter pressed send before he could overthink it: "Thanks, Tony. I’ll be okay. Just need to power through this stuff."
He stared at the screen, the words feeling hollow as they sat there. A tight knot in his chest made it hard to breathe. He wasn’t okay. But no one could know that. Not Tony. Not anyone.
A moment passed before his phone buzzed again. Tony’s message popped up.
"I know you're tough, kid. But don't forget that you don't have to do everything alone. You're not a burden, Peter."
Peter’s eyes stung, and he quickly blinked away the feeling. I’m not a burden, he repeated in his mind like a mantra. But it didn’t feel true. Not when he could barely hold himself together.
He set the phone down and sat back down at his desk. The textbooks and notebooks seemed to loom over him, their pages mocking his inability to focus. But then, his thoughts drifted back to Aunt May, who had looked paler than usual the last time he’d seen her. She was struggling, but she wouldn’t let him know how bad things really were. She always tried to shield him from her worries, just like he tried to shield her from his. It was a cycle, one that felt impossible to break.
Peter stood up, pacing the room in frustration. His thoughts spun like a broken record—school, patrols, Aunt May, the bills piling up, the test tomorrow. It all felt like too much. Like he was stretched too thin and the seams were starting to tear.
His mind flitted back to his phone. Tony’s message still sat on the screen, staring at him like an invitation. Don’t forget you don’t have to do everything alone. He read it again, then another time. For some reason, it made something shift inside him. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was just the sheer weight of everything piling up, but a small, almost imperceptible part of Peter’s resolve cracked.
He picked up the phone again, fingers hovering. After a moment of hesitation, he started typing:
"I’m not fine, Tony. I don’t know how to do all this. Aunt May’s not doing well, and I’m failing at everything. I can’t keep pretending I’ve got it all together. I’m scared."
Peter paused after typing the last word. He stared at the message, the reality of what he’d written sinking in. There was a rawness to it that felt terrifying, but at the same time, it felt like a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying. His thumb hovered over the send button. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the vulnerability it would bring, but maybe, just maybe, he was done pretending.
Before he could second-guess himself, Peter hit send.
The response came almost immediately. "Peter, I’m not going anywhere. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out. But you need to talk to me. Let me help."
Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. For the first time in what felt like forever, a sense of relief washed over him. Maybe he didn’t have to do everything alone. Maybe it was okay to lean on others once in a while.
As the message sat there, Peter felt a small shift within himself. It wasn’t all going to be okay immediately, and he knew he’d still have to juggle everything on his plate, but for the first time in a while, he wasn’t facing it alone.
He glanced back at his chemistry assignment, the blinking cursor now less menacing. With a deep breath, Peter picked up his pencil and started writing. Maybe the road ahead would still be tough, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he didn’t have to carry it all alone. And that, in itself, was a kind of relief he hadn’t realized he needed so badly.