Chapter Text
Hate Hate Hate Hate.
In a swift move. The mirror he was looking into was smashed to bits and pieces. Some of the sharp edges cutting into his flesh with pain he can't really call painful anymore.
This is the fifth time Peter has lost it looking at the mirror.
He's tried avoiding it, looking away, giving a quick glance to make sure he looks fine.
He's even taped paper over the lower half to hide his body.
Nothing. Nothing worked. Absolutely nothing.
He was doing great. Amazing actually. He has two amazing parental figures. He's a hero, people love him. He's inspiration to people outside of NYC.
Just why can't he look at himself?
He hates it. He's been this way since that plane crash. Peter didn't understand it at that age. He was young. He thought mummy and daddy would come back. They never did. Then Uncle Ben died. And rushing back from the hospital to the police station after his Aunt May got the call. She died too.
A speeding car. Slammed right into her. Killing her on impact. What cruel things had he done to deserve this.
Yeah, he had Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts. But... but why did he feel so... wrong? Non of his issues should have caused.... This shit!
He feels. He feels a lot.
Too fat. Too skinny. Not enough muscle. Too much muscle. Not tall enough. Too tall. Too short. Too girly. Too boyish.
Too much.
Way too much.
And he couldn't tell anyone. He just couldn't.
"Peter."
The sudden electronic voice slammed him out of his distress? Anger? Sadness? He wasn't sure.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y, yeah?"
The robotic voice took a moment longer than it should of. FRIDAY knew.
"Boss and Mrs. Boss wants me to let you know they'll be gone for the week, Tokyo for a business trip. They are leaving tomorrow and are calling you down for dinner."
Tokyo... for a week.
Perfect.
"Er... Thanks Fri, can you tell them ill be there in a bit?"
Just... perfect.
_
Peter wrapped himself up. Pulling out a few shards out of his leg where they were jabbed into in his fit of emotion. Lucky for him, the clothes he chose to wear covered everything up, and Tony didn't question him on why he ate less than usual.
As soon as Pepper and Tony had left the following morning. Peter planned.
Due to the spider bite he had a fast enough metabolism to loose a good 2 or more kilos ( 5 Pounds) in a week.
It shouldn't be that hard?
_
'Quick weight loss'
Enter.
Peter scrolled for a bit. Before stumbling along a ligit enough look website. It looked government issued.
- Calorie Deficit
It's all the website talked about. It recommended apps and meal plans. Peter found himself with not one. Not even three. But all 10 apps recommend on the website by that time he'd leave for his usual patrol.
He had been so caught up in figuring things out that he never stopped the eat.
Maybe that was a good thing. This calorie Deficit. Wasn't it just. Eating less?
He'd just come back and have dinner Mrs. Potts made for him the night before.
_
He was hungry. Real hungry by the time his patrol was done. But Peter Parker felt good. So so good. The website it self said it.
'Hunger means progress! Don't stop being hungry'
It was written in bright blue font. It was good then. Right?
This was perfect. Peter's never felt so... so... himself? Before.
This was great! Amazing! Absolutely wonderful!
This was just-
"What..."
A glimpse of his reflection caught his eye in the window. He focused on the way he looked. His spandex spider suit making him look so... skinny.
Skinny. Bone.
Skin and bone.
'You're so skinny aren't you Peter' he thought. 'So skinny. You'd snap. How could you even be a hero to others if even the wind could snap him in half.
Peter was in a rush. In a rush to Eat. Eat anything. Everything if he had to. So he didn't look... like this. Like a fucking stick.
How'd he not notice? People probably think he's weird. Pathetic for being so skinny.
Skinny. Skinny. Skinny. Skinny.
Must eat. Must eat. Must eat. Must eat. Must eat. Must eat. Must eat. Must.
The fridge was open. Only light coming from there. He first grabbed last night's leftovers. Didn't even stop the heat it up. He grabbed a fork and ate. Not enough. It didn't cure the feeling deep within him. He grabbed a few of those protein bars Tony kept. It tasted disgusting but he wouldn't stop... he couldn't. The half empty packet of MnM's from when Pepper had made cookies. Poured into his mouth. The juice boxes, a whole brand new box of cereal.
He just... couldn't stop.
_
The clock on the wall was loud. Too loud.
How was it already midnight?
Had he... blacked out? What. "What am I doing" the teen whispered to himself. Looking down... he was holding a bag of flour. A hand full near his mouth.
What the hell?
What had he done?
Wasn't he trying to loose weight? Why'd he eat so much?! What was wrong with him.
He'd gone off into a haze of stuffing whatever he could into his mouth because of what he saw.
Was... was this normal? But when had Peter ever been normal.
Surely this was normal. The website. It had to be.
_
Peter Parker wasn't a quitter. He wouldn't quit his goal. He need to be perfect. He had to be. Who would love him if he wasn't. Who would care about him?
He had to be perfect.
If he wasn't perfect he wasn't anything.
It was as simple as that.
'Parker you pig. Look how much you ate'.
His voice sounded distorted in his head. As if it wasn't him talking. It wasn't his thoughts. It wasn't him thinking at all.
'disgusting. You're so pathetic. Look at you, you're an animal'
He's disgusting isn't he. No one would ever care for him.
Peter put the bag of flour down. Gently returning the fist full he'd grabbed in his frenzy. He'd spent the next two hours cleaning up his mess in silence. Avoiding anywhere he may see a reflection.
Maybe he should talk to Tony. Because Tony was this larger than life person in his head.
Mr. Stark would know what to do.
'But if you don't even know what to do with your pathetic self. How could Mr. Stark help you? He only keeps your around for spiderman. Remember that.'
His hands clenched on the mops handle. He'd never say that. So why was he thinking it.
What is wrong with him.
Why isn't he normal. Why can't Peter just be the regular teen next door who doesn't have any worries. Who is just. A teen. He can't help but feel jealous. It's not fair. Why doesn't everyone else his age get to just be normal. And he can't even be good enough.
He feels to big. Then too small. Then big again.
He eats. But he shouldn't. He doesn't eat. But he should. What was he even supposed to do at this point?
Death would be easier. Wouldn't it.
One bleach smoothie and he would have to think about all this.
No. What is he thinking. That's stupid.
It's a terrible idea.
'do it'
What. No, no why would he think that. He doesn't want to-
'common, you scared Parker.'
No, no no! This isn't him talking. Some villian must of had some mind powers or something. He must of been hit with it.
He wouldn't think this. Would he?
Should he?
It would be. So, so easy.
Wouldn't it.
wouldn't it.
Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.
"Peter."
A sudden hand on his shoulder makes him jump.
"Mr. America, sir." He scrambled to say. Looking up at the taller man.
"You alright kid? F.R.I.D.A.Y said you were awake... why are you cleaning?" Steve Rogers asked. Worry written all over his face.
"Oh, um." Peter forgot Friday was supposed to contact Steve or the other Avengers when things weren't the usual and Tony and Pepper were away. "I couldn't sleep. So I decided to clean... sorry, did I wake you"
The lie is smart. It works on Steve at the least. "No, I was already awake. Now off to bed kid. It's 3 am."
Peter started to get ushered out of the kitchen. The mop take out of his hand and put away. He was quickly tucked into bed by the man.
"I'm just downstairs if you need anything Peter. Yeah? You can always talk to me" Steve said with that 'I know something up' tone he used multiple times when someone was injured after a mission but never brought it up. "Get some sleep, kid."
-
Once again. Peter. Left alone with his thoughts. He could his his distorted reflection in the glass of the fairly lights.
He looked to skinny. But too fat the same time. It was... painful.
He doesn't know how long he stared at the ceiling for until he actually fell asleep.
Maybe everything would be magically fine in the morning.
Just... maybe.