Chapter Text
His fingers mindlessly intertwined with the rope.
Repeating the pattern he had practiced many times before.
This was only one of many times he was trying to make the exhaustion waver.
He, despite his almost always cheerful persona couldn't deal with the waresome feelings he suffered with.
He didn't want to be burdened with the disastrous feelings he's had since he was 9 any longer.
He's known since he was 14 that he wouldn't live past 16 and that was final.
Harry would find the letter on his desk at oscorp by tonight.
Aunt May would find the letter on the kitchen bench when she got home from work.
Max would find it back at Horizon when he finishes with his off-school work.
And the rest of his friends would find their letters conveniently on their lab-desks when they finish helping Max.
He just hopes they'll understand the reasons why he did it.
At 6 pm, as night is about to fall he'll drag the chair from out under his desk and leave the letters to be found by his loved ones.
At 6:30 pm Harry will find his letter.
At 7:00 pm Max and his friends will find their letters.
And at 9:00 pm Aunt May will find her letter.
It was 5:36 currently.
This would be one of the last time he sees the photos on the wall of his apartment.
One of the last times he sees this elevator.
And the last time he would see the sunset from this rooftop, or anywhere.
His legs aimlessly tostled as he swung them off the roof.
Despite his apartment not being so high, the rental apartment building definitely wasn't far from short.
It made it perfect for being left alone, or for a last enjoyance of the view.
He's always liked heights.
Always liked the thrills.
Always seeking distractions.
It always made him feel like the fatigue wasn't permanent.
Ofcourse after the events were over, reality always hit him again.
Reminding him that trying to wishfully think never helped.
Nor did overthinking about why he was the way he was.
Or what could've changed to prevent the events of his life.
It never helped, never worked, and he was sick of it.
He didn't want to be in a world where he had to suffer with these feelings.
He didn't want to be a burden and he wouldn't by his own accord.
So, when 6 pm was here he would be in his room.
Ready to once again start what he had been trying to do since he was 14.
And ready to finish it.
The button clicked in.
The elevator dinged.
The door opened.
The stairs creaked.
And before he knew it, it was 5:56 and he was in his room.
Only four minutes left till he would end it all.
His knees bent as he stood up on the chair.
Squeaking in protest.
His fingertips brushed the bristle rope attached to his roof.
Both a million and no thoughts sending a current through his brain.
His head slunk into the oval-shaped material, ready for when the pressure would be added and his windpipe would be crushed.
Leaving him to asphyxiate in the comfort of his room.
But that's not what happened.
No.
What actually happened was that his windowsill was flung opened and his black-haired friend, Harry shot though the window.
Tackling him off the chair he stood on on.
His arms were pinned by Harry, who had him trapped, unable to try anything else.
"P-Peter what the hell!?"
He could only stare up in shock as his name was uttered.
He had been saved from his attempt, how?
"W-what are you doing here Harry?" Tears spilled down the face above.
"I saw your letter Peter! Peter how-w-why!?" Harry despite how angry he seemed had worry dripping through his voice.
"I-I'm sorry" he didn't know why, when only a moment ago he was fine, but his voice was strained and tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill.
Were spilling.
"I'm sorry-I'm so sorry!" Emotion bloomed through him, sobs wracking as he entangled his arms out of Harry's grip and instead began clinging to him.
Both boys clutched to eachother, crying and discussing everything.
Surviving after everything they've gone through and everything they were going to survive.