Chapter Text
It wasn’t every day that Peter’s enhanced senses went quiet, drowning out any singular moment from protruding into his thoughts.
It wasn’t every day that his family and friends died either, but it was starting to get a lot more commonplace. Too often, too much.
Really, he was all but hanging by a thread. And it was gonna break, quick. Soon.
But it was fine. Everything was fine. Thanos was gone—thank goodness, just a historical figure that kids in AP World would have to memorize later, never knowing the amount of pain and suffering concentrated into eradicating him from the universe. Everything that was destructed because of Thanos had been quickly fixed too, all because of Mr. Stark’s willingness to give a bunch of money to every construction company in the country to rebuild the cities. He had even started taking insurance companies to court so that they could help pay some of the damages.
And he wasn’t gone, Peter and Aunt May and his friends and the Avengers and everyone else that got snapped was back and safe. They had done their jobs, the world was okay.
So why is it that Peter was secluding himself on some log he had found on the edges of the Stark property? It was a good log by all means, overlooking the serene lake that Mr. Stark insisted Morgan had grown up with. Best of all it was far from the Avengers and even farther from the reporters that flocked the property lines, cameras and witty mouths ready to make fools of anybody that dared talk to them.
Well, he knows why he’s chosen to seclude himself from the funerals. And he knows why he’s skipped out on every celebration, too. He knows even more that he can’t handle to think about why. Why he had to mess up so badly and hurt so many people and why so many people were dead, gone forever this time, and why he couldn’t have trained just a bit more and why he was the one that had to come back and why-
“He-ey…” Peter swung his head around at the unfamiliar voice, willing himself to calm down his wheezing breath before it got any worse. He wiped the palms of his hands on his dress trousers and reached up to smooth down his hair in an attempt to subdue his panicked look a bit.
When Peter finally looked up, he didn’t see Aunt May or some Avenger he had never met before like he had expected to. He didn’t even see a stray reporter. Instead, it was some concerned looking guy, teenage aged, maybe only a year older than Peter.
He wasn’t someone Peter recognized but he didn’t seem dangerous or anything, all starry green eyes and a rested posture, so Peter allowed himself to take in the rest of him before getting in a fighting stance.
The boy was genuinely attractive and tall, and his brown hair was neatly slicked back, probably an attempt to look nice and honor those that had passed. His black suit looked expensive too, neatly sewn blazer fitting his torso perfectly and his pants sleek against his long legs.
He didn’t seem misplaced, just someone that Peter didn’t know. He wondered if the boy was faring as bad as he was. Maybe he was another Avenger? Or maybe he was a family member of someone that had died fighting.
Died because of Peter…
…
The quiet rustling of the guy moving closer drew Peter out of his thoughts again, and Peter noticed his equally as expensive looking loafers, shiny and black. Boy, this guy just couldn’t let Peter finish a thought, huh.
But that wasn’t what Peter had focused on, no. The real question here was how had the boy snuck up on him without him sensing? Without even hearing the dry leaves crunching under his loafers or the usual breathing and heartbeat that accompanied any human near Peter.
That really only happened with a select few people, and it hadn’t happened since before all of the damage and destruction took place. Peter couldn’t trust anymore. The pain suffocated him, squeezing out any semblance of normal he could maintain. He hadn’t even been able to adjust to this new school year, even though half the students were the same ones that Peter had been with his whole life.
Aunt May, Ned, MJ, Happy, Mr. Stark, and a specific pick of the Avengers.
Those are the only people Peter can trust now. Not even himself. He messed up. They didn’t. He just always had to depend on others, and he just always had to mess-
“Hey, again…Are you okay? You’re, like, shaking, dude.”
Peter didn’t even realize how he looked, all cold sweat and shaking hands and pale skin. He only really realized his panic when the other boy grabbed his hands and pulled them together, encompassing Peter’s fisted hands within his own warm ones.
“You’re okay, it’s all okay.” The boy said, slowly massaging Peter’s hands and letting his warmth seep into Peter’s skin. “Can you take a big deep breath? Just one is all you need.”
Peter gulped the biggest breath he could and slowly let it out, urged by the boy whispering, “There you go, you got it. Take in a few more for me.”
The stranger began to take deep breaths in too, squeezing his hands with every breath in and letting go as he let out the air, and Peter followed his lead.
Slowly, while letting out all that air, Peter came down from his panic. He could feel the sounds of the clearing coming to him, the chirping birds and the bees buzzing around all the greenery. The place felt cooler too, with a slight breeze drying his face off from the apparent tears he’d been crying.
Peter took in his surroundings and brought himself back down to a normal state, taking a few minutes to just close his eyes and use his other senses instead.
This kind of silence was soothing. He wasn’t being drowned anymore, more like a calm drifting feeling. It was sort of nice.
When he finally opened his eyes, the boy was still there. He wasn’t looking at Peter anymore, just sitting next to him on the log and looking out at the lake. But his hand was still right there holding on the Peter’s.
Holding on to Peter’s…
Wait.
Why was there a whole person holding on to Peter’s hand? And why was he kind of just maybe super hot?
“Umm…I think you’re still holding my hand?” Peter brought their coupled hands up in the view of the other boy as if he couldn’t see it or something. “See?”
The boy laughed quietly and squeezed their hands before letting go and bringing his hands to his lap.
Now that Peter was looking, both at the boy’s practiced hands and smiling face, the boy was a bit familiar. Not in the way that he knew him or anything, more like he knew his presence. If that made sense and wasn’t just the result of Peter not sleeping well in a while.
He held himself up with an almost “better than everyone” type mentality, with his head held high, and his neat slick back and fitted suit only added to that whole shtick. His hands weren’t bruised but they were clearly practiced and rugged, fingers strong and forearms slightly larger than they should be. And those red tinted glasses hung off his collar—They were far too similar in style to someone Peter happened to know very well.
“Soo. Who are you, exactly?” Peter asked the boy. “Like, not to be ungrateful or anything, thanks for helping me, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
The boy grinned again, sticking his hand out to shake Peter’s. “My name is Harley Keener, it’s nice to meet you. I live in the Avengers tower over the summer so you might’ve seen me around?”
“No, never seen you. Umm, I’m Peter.” Peter took his hand and shook it. “Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Peter.” Harley tested out his name, letting it end on a lifting note that seemed completely out of place for a funeral. The whole guy was completely out of place for the funeral actually, smiling and laughing in just those few minutes more than Peter had in the last few weeks.
He was almost jealous, really. The boy was all upbeat and happy and held himself so confidently and Peter didn’t think he could be like that again. He didn’t deserve to be like that again.
Harley leaned back on the log and scooted a bit closer to Peter. He settled into his spot after a few minutes and looked around a bit, eventually looking out at the same spot of the lake that Peter was where the sun hit the water perfectly and you could see through the water into the stuff below.
They just stayed like that for a while, side by side and matching stares. Peter was almost sure that thirty or so minutes must have passed like that, but Harley didn’t seem to get even a bit bored. Peter was bored though; he just stayed because he didn’t have anything else to do but go back to the funeral and he definitely didn’t want to do that.
Eventually, Harley stood up and stretched his arms up, the suit jacket tightening around his upper arms and slightly lifting. Now, Peter could confidently say he was stronger than most anyone, but even he could admit those were some good arms. All muscle and raw strength.
When Harley turned to look down at Peter, Peter quickly looked away and feigned ignorance about his staring. He could feel his cheeks getting red too. Thankfully Harley didn’t seem to notice anything strange going on.
“How about we get going back to Tony’s cabin now? I’m sure they have food and maybe another log that’s just as good as this one.” Harley joked, reaching out to help Peter up as well, and Peter decided to take his hand much to Harley’s joy.
He decided that maybe it’d be fine going back to the cabin if Harley was with him. Maybe the Avengers and Aunt May wouldn’t have to see another one of his breakdowns if Harley was there to stop them.
“Umm…Sure, we can go back, I guess.” Peter said, wiping his face and fixing his hair so he didn’t look like he’d been crying once they got back.
“Let’s get going now, Peter.” The boys started walking back and Peter wasn’t sure if Harley knew they were still holding hands. “You’ve been out here for some time too, you must be hungry.”
Harley must’ve had a habit of holding hands, Peter guesses.
They slowly walked back, hands swinging at their side.
The air was light and breezy, too happy for a funeral in Peter’s opinion. He could hear chatter and the sound of a fire pit coming from Mr. Stark’s house as they got closer because of his superhearing. And the sounds of leaves crunching under his feet were as loud as ever, but he could drown them out.
He could drown everything out when he was holding Harley’s hand. It was weird. And calming.
For the first time in a few weeks, Peter was thinking that he could relax and stop blaming himself for a bit. Just enough to take a hot shower and eat some of the delicious food that Mr. Stark provided them. Just enough.
Mr. Stark’s cabin was coming up now, Peter could see the roof and the smoke rising up from the firepit. He could smell the food and hear the people as well. He really wondered how everyone could just go on with their lives. How they could pretend, or maybe they really believed, that everything was fine.
Maybe it was because no one had messed up as bad as he did. Peter was inexperienced compared to everyone else, he had only really fought small criminals and a few minor superpowered ones, and only within his little neighborhood. He wasn’t able to do as much because of that, kept messing up, kept setting them back.
It was really his fault that getting Thanos’s gauntlet took as long as it did. And it really was his fault that so many people had to die in battle in order to get it.
It was true, he was the only one that deserved to suffer here. Everyone else had given everything they had to win. Peter had only done wrong.
When Peter heard Harley’s voice break up the sounds of everything else, it wasn’t another reprimanding voice like the ones in his head. Instead it was warm and comforting, followed by another squeeze of his hand.
“Do you want me to make you a plate, Peter? You can stay right here if you’d like, or you can come along and stay close to me.” Harley stood them in place right by the edges of the trees so they were out of view of the cabin. “Whatever you want Peter, I’ll make it happen.”
Peter figured he’d have to go back to the cabin in a few hours anyways so Aunt May knew wolves or whatever hadn’t ate him, so he just nodded and said, “Yeah, we can go. I’m sure you must be pretty hungry too.”
They made their way to the cabin, bypassing the rowdy firepit and the squabble of children running around who were Morgan’s friends. Harley guided them to the tables covered in food and grabbed two plates, beginning to scoop portions of food onto each one.
“Now, do you like this dish better, or do you want this one? Also, would you mind grabbing the cups?”