#guess who broke down in tears writing this. hahahaa.

[irondad-defensesquad]

TRIGGER WARNING: suicidal thoughts

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…” Peter tries to pick at least one reason out of the millions inside his head. He sighs, giving up, and completes, “For being me, I guess.”

Tony frowns but he’s far from annoyed. He’s hurt.

“Kid—”

“I mean,” Peter cuts him off. “It’s true, isn’t it? Me being here, my mere existence… hurts. And it hurts others. It took someone away from me. I keep trying to make up for it, hence why I’m here to begin with, to look out for the little guy… But it’s never going to be enough. I’m never going to be enough. Right?” He tears up as he says this. He’s been wanting to cry so badly all day.

Those kind of days when existing hurts. It suffocates you. Your body is imploding. It’s bleeding inside and no one can see it. You’re the only one who feels it.

“… I don’t want this anymore.”

Peter is about to leave, jump the nearest window.

But he doesn’t have the suit.

Exactly.

“Peter, where are you going? Peter,” Tony stops him, grabbing Peter’s arm. He sounds afraid, knowing what might happen if he lets go.

The boy’s chest hurts, hurts. No oxygen reaches his heart or his lungs, and it’s odd, why won’t he drop dead? Why, why?

“Hey, hey,” Tony lowers his voice.

“It hurts, Mr. Stark. You’re not going to heal it. You’re just not. Just- Just let me go, you’ll be better—”

“Don’t finish that sentence. You know I don’t feel that way.”

“Why?” Peter growls, but it sounds sorrowful, pathetic.

“Because I love you, Peter.”

No hesitation.

No. God, no.

That’s when Peter really tries to run. It’s too late—

“Peter, Peter, shh, shh—”

… And that’s also when he realizes, he doesn’t want to run, does he?

Why keep running? Why?

It’s just going to hurt like fucking hell.

Peter sobs painfully, clogged. After all, he can’t breathe.

“Come here. Come here, buddy.”

And when these specific arms get a hold of him, Peter stops resisting.

“I know it hurts. I know it hurts, Pete, I’m sorry it does.”

The kid just breaks down without letting out any sensical words. Tony holds him tightly.

“It’s not forever, it’s going to—”

“It WON’T!” Peter yells. “It’s NEVER GOING AWAY! NEVER!” He’s reduced to sobs once more. “It’s not going away…”

Tony doesn’t reprimand him for screaming at him. He doesn’t expect him to apologize. Why?

“Okay. But one thing I can tell you, and that it won’t be a lie,” the man pulls him closer, nuzzling his shoulder, “that I’m 100% - no, 1000% sure… is that I’ll be here. I’ll be here to listen. I see your pain, kid. I see you. The you no one knows.”

I know how hard it is to not be seen, Tony adds without verbalizing any of it. God, do I know.

Peter can… breathe.

A little bit.

A little.

He’s not dying. He’s not dying.

You won’t die on my watch, Tony has stated this again and again.

Peter lets out more tears, way more.

“Yeah, let it all out. Let it out.” I’ll be here, I’m here, I’m here. Tony is rubbing his back in circles.

It’s going to leave a mess on Tony’s shirt, it’s going to give him headaches, a heart attack, he won’t sleep well—

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He’s telling you it’s fine.

It’s fine.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.

All he wants is for you to be okay.

That’s all that matters.

It should matter to you.

It should.

You’re going to be okay.

You’re breathing. You’re breathing.

It hurts, but you are.

Keep going.

Keep going.

You’re not alone.

There comes the time there’s no mortal danger looming at his door. Tony blasted it away. It’s not dead. But it’ll leave him alone for now.

Tony still keeps Peter close, murmuring things not a soul can hear but the broken teen.

Peter breathes the oil, the sweat, the coffee, the colognes, the shampoo.

Easy. Easy.

Tony may let go, but not really, as he takes off his old MIT sweater and puts it on Peter. And he’s rubbing Peter’s back again, so he can feel double hugged.

The teen is breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

And Tony is kissing his head.

“You did good. You did good, Pete.”

And I’m proud of you, I am.

Even like this. Even like this.

He’s proud of you.

Maybe you don’t feel that way about yourself now…

But it’s good to know someone sees it. Even after everything they saw in you.

You’re worthy.

Worthy. Worthy.

It’s something you can easily forget, but you’re worthy. You’re real. You’re being seen now.

You are seen. And you are loved.