#tw:tumor

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Leave out all the Rest

Irondad, Spiderson, and the rest of the family. This is long and a bit sad, so of course it's named after a Linkin Park song. I poured my heart and soul into this story and I hope that it manages to touch a few of you.

Thank you to @whumphoarder for being the most wonderful beta.

This story contains serious illness (TW: tumour) and death. 

When my time comes Forget the wrong that I’ve done Help me leave behind some Reasons to be missed

“Good news first: I booked us into Marriott's in Venice for a week,” Tony says in a cheerful tone that defies the outright panic written clearly onto every inch of his face. “Finally getting that trip off the bucket list.”

He takes a deep breath. “As for the bad news…”

And Pepper doesn't want to know, she wants to run, scream, cover her ears and make this all untrue. But fate is not kind to her today, and as Tony goes on, all she can do is listen with horror while the tears are slowly dripping down her face.

That's how it starts.

*

“You're not allowed - you're not allowed to do that! Tony Stark, you can't  - you can't just leave -” Pepper is pleading now, and Tony's reassuring words seem like background static below her shrill voice.

“I'm working on it. It's gonna be okay, Pep. Just stop crying.”

Peter knows he isn't supposed to hear them talking inside the infirmary that Tony's bedroom has become. But then, he can't help his enhanced hearing skills, and it's not really like they have many secrets from him nowadays.

“But they said…they said that there's nothing - if the chemo isn't working -” Pepper's words are nearly indecipherable through her sobbing.

It is enough to drive them all to despair. The tumour is growing and growing, the dozen different medications Tony takes doing nothing to slow it down, only making him drowsy and sick.

It had been the third seizure in just as many weeks. The only reason Tony made it through this one was Friday's early-warning system and the fact that Pepper, Happy, and Bruce have arranged their schedules in such a way that someone is always present in the building. Just in case.

Peter had been there when it had happened first. He'd seen Tony grow increasingly pale and quiet during their lab afternoon, seen the inconspicuous attempts at supporting himself on the table when he got up, but he'd thought that it was just another flu bug his mentor was hiding.

Then Tony had fallen, and Friday had sounded alarms, and Peter's carefully constructed world had started to crumble.

*

Some days are better than others. They start better, at least. Peter spends so much of his time at the tower now that May had threatened to report him missing when he'd left that morning. She'd been joking, of course, but Tony takes it seriously and makes sure he is back home early that night.

“You look younger every time I see you,” Tony compliments May when she opens the door to their cramped apartment.

“And this one gets older every time I hear it,” she replies. Then she pulls him into a short, tight hug. “How are you, Tony?”

“Good, good,” he lies easily, absentmindedly running a hand through his greying hair. “Your nephew did well today, but I'm still searching for that switch to mute him. Never seen a kid that talkative.”

“Well, that won't change anymore, I guess…” She grins and ruffles Peter's hair before he can duck away. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” she addresses Tony.

“No, thanks, I'm not very hungry,” he declines. “Need to get back to the tower anyway, Pepper is waiting.”

“I made brownies for dessert,” she informs him.

“It’s fine, May,” Peter interjects, because he can see the tiredness radiating from Tony’s posture.

“At least have one. I promise that I didn't burn them this time.” She holds the plate in front of Tony. “I'll be offended if you don't try them.”

Tony gingerly picks up the brownie and takes a bite. Peter can see the colour draining from his face when he swallows. “Yeah, thank you, I - actually, could I use your bathroom for a sec?” He doesn't wait for a reply before abruptly turning around.           

A moment later they can hear him being violently ill into the toilet, the thin walls of their apartment doing nothing to conceal the noise. Peter can't bring himself to look at May, desperately wishing for a larger place, a house, something that would make it possible not to have to witness a weak moment in the life of the man who hates to appear weak.

“It's not looking good, is it?” May asks quietly.

Peter silently shakes his head. He doesn't resist when she pulls him into a tight embrace.

After a while, Tony emerges from the bathroom, looking pale and shaky below the bright, fake smile plastered on his face.

“So, where were we?” He must have seen their expressions, because the smile disappears immediately. “Oh.”

“Mr. Stark –” Peter starts.

“Sorry for that,” Tony interrupts, motioning at the bathroom. “I, um, I guess I'll get going.”

“Sit down for a minute, Tony,” May urges, stepping towards him. “I'll get you a glass of water.”

“No, thank you.” Peter has never seen his mentor self-conscious before, but that's exactly what he looks like now. “I gotta get back.”

He rests a hand on Peter's shoulder for a split second before raising it to cover his mouth and coughing drily. “Great work today, kiddo.”

Peter stays silent. Tony leaves, alone.

*

Tony is still the most optimistic among them. It’s more than just fake cheerfulness meant to stop everyone else from worrying, as Peter had suspected in the beginning. No, the man is honestly convinced that he will be able to find a solution, to build another genius piece of tech that would force his body to keep working against all odds, or invent a method of performing an operation on his brain that won’t destroy everything that makes him him.

But then, he is hardly able to concentrate more than a few hours on his good days, and Peter doesn't want to remember the bad ones. He doesn't want to think about how he'd found Tony slumped unresponsive over the workbench next to a puddle of his own sick one afternoon, about how his skin gets greyer and his hair thinner every day, about the flickers of pain crossing his face whenever the headaches get too much to bear.

He doesn't want to think about the fact that it took Tony a whole night to correct a minor bug in Peter's web-shooters, or that he still hasn't figured out the reason the Mark 47's left arm won't cooperate anymore. He doesn't want to remember the numerous times he'd wriggled the Starkpad out of Tony's grip after the man had fallen asleep at the table to correct the equations he'd gotten wrong this time.

No one says it out loud. But Peter knows, and everyone knows, that their hope is dwindling rapidly.

*

Pepper is the one who suffers most.

She doesn’t show it. After the initial breakdown, she pulls herself together in a way Peter wouldn't have thought possible if he hadn't witnessed it. To the outside, she is her normal, energetic, hospitable self, friendly to those who deserve it and snippy toward those who don’t.

Peter clings to this knowledge. If Pepper can pull through even after feeling how she does, he can too. He has to.

But they all see the circles under her eyes after another sleepless night at Tony’s bedside, and Peter with his enhanced hearing is the only one who can make out her quiet sobbing in the bathroom when she goes to take a shower.

Bruce, despite insisting that he is not that kind of doctor, has turned into a radiologist overnight. He has taken Tony's place to fall asleep at his desk on crossed-over arms after endless nights of analysing scans from virtually every part of Tony's brain.

Sometimes, when he's worked so late that his eyes are burning and the numbers dance in front of them, Pepper makes tea for him - the strong chai with ginger and cardamom he likes so much. Then they sit together in silence, sadness and fear almost a tangible bond between them, waiting for a miracle that never happens.

*

Peter had been granted security clearance for all levels of the tower after the first time Tony faded out on him, just for emergencies. Nobody seems to mind him being around, so he doesn't hesitate to take the elevator directly to Tony's personal quarters when he can’t find him in the lab. He'd been banned from visiting for nearly a week by an alliance of May, Tony and Happy due to his exams, and now nervousness mixes with anticipation in his gut when he steps out of the lift.

“Mr. Stark?” he calls out when he finds the living room empty.

There's light pouring through the crack under the bathroom door. Peter knocks hesitantly. He hears a muffled cough, scrambling, and then the lock is being opened.

“What do you want?” Tony asks hoarsely, a hint of irritation in his tone. “I'm sorry, should have texted. It's not a good day.”

“I - ” Peter starts, and then stops with a gasp as the door opens fully and he gets a view of his mentor.

Tony looks terrible, there is no other word for it. His face is ashen, his pupils bloodshot, and he seems to have lost multiple pounds over the past days. He's clearly just been sick, evident from the foul smell hanging in the air around him. But the worst is the overpowering sense of weakness surrounding him, the complete lack of energy that Peter's never observed on him before, the beaten expression in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tony swallows heavily.

“I just wanted to…” He is stopped by Tony holding up a hand, then abruptly turning back and dropping onto his knees in front of the toilet. Peter cringes when the man retches hard and liquid hits the bowl.

Peter feels his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he steps carefully into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” he asks, laying a hand on Tony's shoulder and knowing full well how stupid his question is even before Tony bats him away.

“What about this –” the older man pauses to gulp and gesture around him angrily - “looks okay to you?”

“Sorry. I'm sorry,” Peter breathes.

Tony hangs his head back over the toilet, breathing shallowly, until he shudders and gags again. Only bile comes up, and he spits into the bowl to get rid of the strings.

“You should leave. This won't get any better today,” he mutters as he weakly reaches up to  flush the toilet and clear away the evidence.

“Where's Pepper?” Peter asks. He respects Tony's privacy, but every instinct is screaming not to leave him alone in this state.

“Business…something. Will be back tonight,” Tony replies. “Don't call her,” he adds when he sees the look on Peter's face. “She's barely worked all week. The stocks will drop even further if she leaves her meeting abruptly.”

“Does this mean that you've been like this all week?” Peter can't help but ask.

“None of your business.”

“But - ”

“Nope.”

Mr. Sta-”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“But I do! You are not the only one suffering from this!”

Tony looks up. Their eyes meet, and for a brief moment, there's no Iron Man there, no superhero. He's only a man, a man who is tired and old and scared to death.

Then the mask closes over his face. He pulls his shoulder back, straightens up, and grabs the basin for support to pull himself upright. When he looks at Peter, there's a mad, feverish glow in his eyes.

“Okay. You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk then.”

It's scary how he can go from broken to menacing within seconds. Peter swallows, suddenly insecure.

“It’s just…” Peter desperately searches for words. “It just sucks not to know if you’ll still be alive tomorrow. Every time my phone rings, I think it's Pepper, telling me that it’s over. Every time May knocks on my door, I get – I get scared. I can't concentrate, can't think of anything else. It sucks not to know what's going on. And it doesn’t get better by you not telling me how you're feeling.”

“Fine,” Tony snaps.“I’ve been feeling like shit the whole week. There’s a high probability that I’m going to feel like shit for the rest of my life, which amounts to a month, maybe. I'm tired of hurting, I'm tired of being sick, I'm tired of fucking dying.”

He is interrupted by a coughing fit that leaves him breathlessly leaning against the wall for support.

“What did you want to hear?” he continues, panting. “That I value the few minutes every day when I'm not either puking my guts out or feeling like my head is exploding and I might faint any minute? That I am grateful for the time I had? That I see a sense in all of this?”

He looks at Peter's face, which is frozen in shock.

“See, you didn’t wanna hear that, either,” he spits, but there’s no anger left in him. Peter sees him through the veil of tears in his eyes, and it looks like there is wetness in Tony's, too.

He doesn't want to cry. He knows that the last thing Tony needs is him having a breakdown on his bathroom floor. He doesn't feel like he even has the right to crumble, not if Pepper, Rhodey, Happy - all the people who have known Tony so much longer - are still standing. Tony himself looks on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, and this means that Peter needs to be strong. He needs to be someone Tony can lean on, just as he himself has leaned on Tony so many times.

But he can't stop the sobs escaping his mouth, the tears dropping from his eyes. He can't. He just can't anymore.

“Come 'ere, kid,” Tony mumbles hoarsely.

Peter obliges, gravitating towards the older man until he nearly crashes into him. Tony pulls him against his chest, keeping one arm around Peter while supporting his weight against the wall with the other one. He smells like sweat and sickness, but there is still Tony's scent in there, still something left of him, and Peter clings to that bit, tries to burn it into his memory while he cries himself out.

*

Pepper and Tony return from Venice, Tony looking older and thinner than before, but less tense that he has in weeks. Pepper seems tired, but there's a glow on her face below the fear and exhaustion that no one has ever seen before.

“It felt like I was enough,” she tells Rhodey that night while crying quietly into his shoulder. “For the first time ever, it felt like I was enough for him.”

When Rhodey helps Tony to bed later that night, the engineer is calm and thoughtful.

“I wish I'd done that earlier,” he finally confesses after washing down the ever-growing assortment of pills with a grimace. “Sometimes I wish that my whole life had been Pepper and me on a holiday in Venice. But hindsight is a bitch.”

“You'd have gotten bored.” Rhodey smirks. “You'd have saved the city from drowning within a week and then gotten bored of it.”

“Yeah, maybe you're right.” Tony frowns, already half asleep.

“I am,” Rhodey says, hiding a sad smile behind the light tone, “I know you, man.”

*

A few days after they'd returned, Peter is on the roof when Tony finds him. Peter's been up there for a while, and he hadn't realised how cold he'd gotten until he feels the warm air brush him when the balcony door opens. His teeth chatter involuntarily.

“Here.” Tony takes off his leather jacket and drapes it around Peter's shoulders. He's limping, the latest seizure having left parts of his left side immobile.

“I'm not -”

“Save it. You're shivering so hard, I can feel the vibrations in the air.”

“But you -”

“I'm good, kid. See?” Tony points to the worn-out MIT hoodie that's hanging loosely around his bony shoulders.

The jacket is actually quite warm. It's hard to tell with Tony's sheer endless arrays of fancy garments, but Peter thinks that he's seen this one before, maybe on their trip to Germany. It smells like all leather jackets do, but his spider senses detect a bit of Tony below the surface.

“You haven't been patrolling lately,” Tony remarks as he stands casually next to Peter. Too casually, Peter notes immediately, because the railing is taking most of his mentor’s weight. Tony is breathing heavily, as if the short walk from the living room to the balcony has drained him completely. His face is haggard, the fine lines and wrinkles having turned into deep creases during the past weeks.

“How do you know?” Peter asks.

“Oh, Karen and Friday are worse than two old grannies.” He smirks. “Always gossiping.”

Peter gives a half-hearted grin. He thinks about how this is all he's ever wanted, standing on a rooftop with Iron Man, looking down at New York. And now he wouldn't hesitate to trade anything in the world, even his powers, if that could only make Tony healthy again.

“Seriously, kid. Don't get sloppy. New York needs her friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.”

“I'm not sloppy. Just haven’t  felt like it lately.”

He wants to explain it to Tony, but he doesn't seem to have the right words for his feelings. How senseless it seems to keep people from stealing bikes and breaking into banks when none of this will stop the worst thing from happening, when he can do absolutely nothing to save his mentor. How to tell him that Spider-Man is powerful, but Peter doesn't feel powerful anymore - hasn't felt it since the day Tony first collapsed in front of him. That wearing the suit doesn't feel like being who he is anymore, just like trying to become someone he can never be.

“Spider-Man is not something you do when you feel like it, kid,” Tony says. “It's not a part-time job. Either you are in with your heart and soul, or you leave it. And I believe that you made your decision already, quite a while ago.”

“Yeah,” Peter concedes. Then it occurs to him that he has never asked the most obvious question. “When did you decide to become Iron Man?”

“Whoa. Taking advantage of me being in a talkative mood, are you?” Tony teases before turning serious again. “The first suit I ever made was to save my own ass. Well, not only my own, but that was the result.”

A series of emotions crosses his face, too quick, too dark for Peter to decipher.

“After that… I'd been held captive for a couple months, and that made me reconsider my priorities. I realised that I had been throwing away my abilities for something that wasn't worth it. I’d built weapons to kill innocent people instead of protecting those I care about. The reason I became Iron Man… I didn't want to waste my life, you know?”

Then he shakes his head, quickly, as if he is trying to chase the ghosts away. “Sorry, that was… too much input, I guess.”

“No, it's okay,” Peter says. “I… I understand, really, I do.”

And he does. Ben's face flashes in his mind’s eye, memories of the night when the unthinkable happened and he swore that this was the last time he'd let someone dear to him die. Well, it looks like he's failed miserably this time.

“We should get back inside,” Tony suggests. “May is expecting you back and I'm not keen on getting a lecture about irresponsible behaviour if I have Happy drop you off late on a school night.”

Peter wants to stay longer, wants to seize the rare opportunity of having Tony open up to him a little. But he can sense the man’s tiredness, can see Tony hugging his arms against his chest in the cold.

Back inside, Peter takes off the jacket, a bit hesitantly, because its inside is nicely warm now, and even if it's too broad for his shoulders, it already weirdly feels like a part of his body.

“Keep it, kid,” Tony dismisses. “I won't  -”

He breaks off before the words can leave his mouth, but it's too late, Peter knows what he was going to say. I won't need it anymore.

The weight of the jacket suddenly feels heavy on his shoulders. The moment Peter steps into his room, he throws it into a corner of his cupboard with so much angry strength that the impact makes the walls shake.

*

Tony sleeps a lot now. It's what everyone always wished for, the man developing a healthy sleeping habit, but it feels all wrong. Peter is glad when Tony agrees to rest, but sometimes there are moments when he almost hates him for spending eleven hours apiece in bed, for wasting so much of the little time they have left. And then he hates himself for his thoughts.

He tries to steal as many moments as he can. Sometimes Peter sits at his mentor’s bedside, Tony helping him with his math homework. Sometimes, on the rare occasions when the engineer is able to get up and moving, they work on Peter's equipment in the lab, in an attempt to create a sense of normalcy and that never quite materialises.

Unlike Tony, Peter hardly sleeps. He sometimes wonders whether there is a fixed sleep budget in the tower of which Tony takes more than his fair share, leaving less for everyone else. Sometimes he fills his nights by watching movies with Bruce, or by helping Pepper tidy up the documents on her work desk. Sometimes he sits at the window alone, watching as day turns into night and back, another day won for Tony.

One night, he is trying to bend his head around an English essay, trying and failing to think of anything else than what Pepper had told him today with puffy eyes when he had cornered her about the sudden lack of medications on Tony's bedside table. That the therapy hasn't been effective, and that they've finally stopped it for good.

“Hey kid.” Tony is whispering, which is more than unusual.

“What happened?” Peter jumps up immediately, his heartbeat doubling, scanning the man in the doorway for any signs of distress.

“I'm fine,” Tony reassures quietly. “I figured you couldn't sleep, and I… need to ask you for a favour.”

“Of course,” Peter assures. “What is it?”

Tony just puts a finger to his lips and motions him to follow, which Peter does, struggling to get control over the anxiety pulsing through his veins. They take the elevator down to the workshop and then walk to the back where Tony's suits are displayed in a row of glass cabinets, looking new and polished even though they haven't been used in almost two months.

Tony comes to a stop.

“No,” Peter blurts, looking from the suits up at Tony and back, understanding sinking in. “No, that's  - that's dangerous, and stupid, and I – there's no way I would help you with that.”

Tony has already motioned the door housing the Mark 46 to open, the expression on his face somewhere between tenderness and longing when the front of the armour retracts for him to step inside.

“One last time,” he assures. “It's the last time, Peter, and you know it.”

“Mr. Stark, this is – please, just don't-” he pleads.

“Peter, listen. You know I'm going to do this either ways, and Friday here would rather have you by my side while I'm out.”

“But what if -” Peter swallows, trying to ignore the fact that Tony has to sit down while the suits encloses him.

“Trust me, this one time,” Tony says, looking at him calmly with those deep brown eyes.

And Peter, straightening up, replies, “Always.”

They fly.

That is, Iron Man flies and Peter swings behind him, but tonight it feels like gravity has lost its meaning. New York is a blurry mess of colour below the two of them, stars and buildings circling around their heads in a dizzying rush until up becomes down, the ground becomes sky, and for a moment, the impossible seems just within reach.

“Yeeha! This feels like the first time!” Tony shouts when he takes a head dive and pulls up just above the pavement, the foot of his armour leaving sparks when it brushes the ground. And for the first time since the start of the illness, he sounds truly happy.

Peter is catching his breath on top of a skyscraper when Tony rises high, high above the roofs, high enough that to those on the ground, he might look like just another bright star. And maybe he's just that, Peter thinks. Someone to spread light and warmth to the world, sometimes searing those who get too close, giving and giving until he has burnt himself out.

Iron Man spreads his arms wide, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to hold the whole earth in his hands.

*

Rhodey is waiting at the rooftop assembly area when they return. Peter expects him to be upset, or at the very least, worried. But there's a knowing, slightly melancholic smile playing around his lips when he helps Tony with the landing, as if he's known all along what was going to happen.

The armour opens and Tony collapses onto his knees before Peter can catch him. He looks about ready to faint, but there are still traces of joy and excitement mixed into the exhaustion.

“That was one hell of a flight.” He raises his hand to fist bump Peter, who can't help but join into his smile when their knuckles collide.

*

When Peter passes by the kitchen that night, Tony is leaning against the counter with a tablet in his hand, a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers next to him. He locks the screen as soon as Peter steps in, but not fast enough, because Peter can capture a list of names. Pepper's is on top, his own not far below. Bruce. Happy. Further down, in lowercase, he thinks that he can read Steve Rogers.

“What's that?” he asks, motioning at the tablet.

“Later, kid, later,” Tony defers tiredly. “That's for another time.”

Then he turns towards Peter and looks him straight in the eyes. His face is set, but his pupils are wide and glistening, reflecting the warm lights around them.

“Thank you for today,” he says and swallows once. “It meant…a lot.”

Peter bites his lip, aware of Tony's heart beating hard and fast in his chest, mirroring the breathless speed of Peter's own.

“Listen, Peter. You need to promise me one thing. Don't stop being Spider-Man. The world needs you, more so than it ever needed me. More than you know.”

Then he gets up, walking away at the slow pace of an old man, and Peter never sees the tears on his cheeks.

*

Tony dies peacefully in his sleep. It's the best way to go, everyone says, but Peter knows that it's the worst possible way for Tony Stark.

There is no dramatic rescue this time, no meaningful final words. No last miracle to save the Invincible Iron Man. It is just Tony. There one second, gone the next.

People tell Peter that he looked calm. People tell him that they tried to revive Tony, tried the best to make him come back, but this time, he didn’t return. The doctors had given him eight weeks at most, and Tony, one last time, had to outwit them by staying alive for nine.

People tell Peter that it’s okay. He nods when it’s appropriate, cries when they expect him to. But inside, he is all empty.

Bruce hulks out upon hearing the news and disappears into the wilderness. Rhodey takes every single of the suits, flies them all out to the forest and lights them up in an explosion that can be heard throughout the city. Because nobody, nobody else could ever be Iron Man.

Pepper keeps functioning, just as everyone expected, just as everyone knew she would, and somehow this is even worse than watching her fall apart. Peter has learned to look behind the façade. He knows that she is running on autopilot, understands that there is nothing left inside her but pain. And there is nothing in the world that he can do to make it better.

The funeral is held on the first day of snowfall. Happy comes to pick them up in the most expensive car Peter's ever sat in, and he doesn't have to ask to know that Tony has left them all to his former bodyguard.

When it's over, he carefully removes his shoes and socks and stands in the thin film of white velvet snow next to the grave, watching his toes turn first red, then blue. He still cannot feel the pain.

The shock hits days later, without a trigger or a warning. May tells him to let it out, tells him that it will help to cry. It doesn't. She holds him while he sobs and chokes until he feels like he will either throw up or suffocate, and he is grateful for her presence. But all he can think of is the first not-quite-hug Tony gave him after their return from Germany and the weight of May's arms around his shoulders is all wrong.

Bruce returns after weeks, looking gaunt and exhausted. He sleeps for two days straight and never tells anyone where he's been. He avoids the lab for a week before finally entering again, and when he comes out, his eyes look more hopeless than ever before.

“For over a decade, this was the only place I felt like I belonged to,” he tells Pepper in a quiet voice that night. “And now…it just doesn't feel like home anymore.”

A few days later, he is gone again.

*

Peter visits the cemetery every night after patrol. Sometimes he sits for hours in the branches of the chestnut tree that overshadow the grave, sometimes only for a few minutes. Sometimes he sobs. Sometimes he begs. Sometimes he tells Tony what happened to him that day, talks about thieves and drones and bank robberies, and about the old lady with the Churros whom he met again, desperately wishing that it was Happy's mailbox he was talking to, not a silent tombstone.

One day, close to dawn, he sees a group of figures approaching the grave.

Peter watches Black Widow lay down a boxing glove on the grave, Clint standing still, so still, until Natasha slowly drapes an arm around his shoulders. He leans into the touch, just a little bit. Steve Rogers kneels down, and it seems like he is offering a prayer before he gets stiffly back onto his feet, wiping his eyes in a gesture of defeat.

A few minutes later, the sky lights up in a sudden onslaught of brightness. Electricity fizzles around the grave as thunder rolls loudly. For a brief moment, Peter sees a large figure descending next to the others, then then shockwaves hit him and he has to cling to the branch as to not fall from the tree.

When he opens his eyes again, he is alone. But there is a symbol carved into the tombstone that wasn't there before, a lean and shiny ‘A’ in a circle just next to Tony's name.

*

And Peter will grow older.

There will be moments when he will be sitting in his room, absentmindedly trying to repair his suit. After hours of trial and error, he will finally find the bug and fix it. He will be proud, will take the phone in his hands without a second thought in order to send Tony a triumphant text and a photo, and when the pain hits, it will be all-consuming.

These moments will hurt like hell, but he is so, so scared of the day when they will finally stop.

There will be times when he will laugh almost as if everything was normal, forgetting for the fraction of a moment that the world is all wrong. And then the guilt will choke him, because he can't be happy, doesn't want to be happy. Not after all that has happened. The least he owes to Tony Stark is to hold on to the pain of losing him.

He won't share these thoughts with anyone - he knows what they would say, that Tony would have wanted him to enjoy his life, would have wanted him to be happy - but it's wrong in a fundamental way for which he has no words.

It will be months later when Peter realises that the night of Tony's last flight was never about Tony. It was about Peter, was meant for Peter from the start. The flight, the happiness on his face - maybe that was the last present Tony Stark ever made to him.

There'll be an emptiness inside of him that will never go away. It will slowly dawn on him that he is not the only one. That everyone, all of these broken people he loves so strongly, are always just trying to find a sense in the void, and that Iron Man was maybe just Tony's way to fill the emptiness.

There will be times when he will go out on patrol wrapped into Tony's leather jacket, and the weight of it on his shoulders will take his breath away. There will be times when he jumps from a building and has the webs catch him just above the ground, so close that he can see the tips of the grass blades moving in the wind.

And then there will be times where he will sit on the roof at night, fiddling with a screwdriver in his hand, and think back to the words Tony said to him that night.

“The reason I became Iron Man… I didn't want to waste my life, you know?”

“You didn't,” Peter whispers into the dark, empty sky. “It was worth it .”

Don’t resent me And when you’re feeling empty Keep me in your memory Leave out all the rest.

[jbaruchelndg]

wait. do you still have the tumor?

Oh my God, Karen, you can't just ask people if they still have a brain tumor or not.