Spiderkid oneshots

Not letting go.

Requested By @marvelsgal3000.

TW: DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, EATING DISORDER

Sound of the alarm next to him. He was awake. Why? That was the first thought in his head. Yesterday the boy had fallen asleep wishing not to wake up. Why couldn't the universe listen to him? Why couldn't it just take away the pain? Maybe if the universe wouldn't listen he should do it himself. Peter turned on the side and put his alarm out.

He had to get up. If he wouldn't he would be late for school. If he wouldn't he would be an even bigger disappointment than he was now. Slowly getting up. There was no excitement in his steps like there used to be. There was no wish to do anything. But he did.

The boy opened the closet took out a pair of jeans and a T-Shirt, like every other day. Opened his personal bathroom. Why did Tony put it there? Not to see him as much as possible? Turning on the shower. Like every other day. Taking off his clothes. Only then he realized he hadn't changed into sleeping clothes last night. Didn't matter. Stepping in the hot shower. The water hitting his skin. Too unwilling to move to grab a shampoo bottle. Stepping out. Looking into the mirror. Thin white scars on his wrists. His thoughts slid to the pocket knife under the sink. No. Not now. He looked at his body. His ribs were clearly seeable. Putting new clothes on, not wanting to look at himself any longer. Grabbing his backpack and heading out. All like every other day. As long as he would do it. Do the same thing every day. As long as he would stick to the routine. As long as he would do it he maybe could hold on for a little longer.

"You should eat something, Pete!" Tony said seeing Peter heading out to the elevator not even stopping in the kitchen.

"I'm late for school. I'll eat lunch!" Trying to sound cheery like always. And it sounded just like always.

"I can drive you," The man suggested.

"No, I like taking the bus," he lied once again. Didn't want to be an even burden than he was.

Walk to the bus stop. Stop. Wait. Getting in the vehicle. Watching the city pass by. No longer liking the scenery. Stepping out. Walking to school. Not rushing. He was half an hour early. Getting to his first classroom. Greeting the teacher, who was grading some works. Seeing his work. A bad grade again. Tony must be disappointed in him. Why couldn't he keep his grades up like he used to? Sitting down. Thinking he would get out a book.

"Hi, bro!" Ned talking. He looked around. The class was full. They all were here 25 minutes before class? Looking at the clock. The bell had already rung. What did he just do for the last half an hour?

"Hey, Ned!" A smile on his face. Leaning down to get his books. What subject even was this? Looking at the table next to him – chemistry. He used to love chemistry. Now there was no excitement about it.

During the class, he didn't listen. The teacher asked something. Looked at the board. Answer. Correct, Mr. Parker. Not proud.

Lunch. Voices in the cafeteria. Heading to an empty table.

"You aren't going to eat anything?" Asked MJ.

"I had a big breakfast," lie.

They talked he nodded. He smiled. He laughed. But he didn't know what were they talking about. What was he nodding about, what was he smiling about.

Few more classes. Maths. Easy. Sports. Dressing room. Dressing in gym clothes. Flash's snickers when he took his shirt off. Of course. He was too fat to get undressed here. Exercises. So tired. So little energy. Why was this so hard to run? Was he really this weak? Class ends. Get dressed. Go out. Bus stop. Wait. Bus. Ride. Elevator. Past kitchen as fast as possible. His room. Homework. Peter was going to do homework. Sitting down. Staring at the book. He was supposed to read then write. He saw the words. But his mind forgot them as soon as he read them. An hour and a half passed. Nothing. He couldn't do this. Next. Spiderman.

Put the suit on. Open the window. How much he wanted to jump out of it without the web-shooters. No. Spider-man. People need your help. No, they don't. Yes. Yes, they do. Webs. Shoot. Swing. Again. Lady being mugged. Web the muggers. Thank you. It wasn't hard. The boy remembered liking this. He was supposed to like this. But there was no longer anything he could like. More robberies, muggings stopped. Getting back to the Tower. He just wanted to feel. Wanted to like chemistry and like saving people. Feel. Just wanted to feel. But there was nothing to feel.

Swinging. Stopping. Stopping on a bridge. Sitting on top of it. Looking at the river waters below. It was night now. The water was black. It could make him feel. It was flowing. But he felt stuck. Maybe it could take him with. He just needed to move. Push with his arms. Or let his arms go and wait for a strong wind to blow. Maybe he should wait for the Sunrise. It would be beautiful when he went. Maybe he was just waiting because he was afraid. Maybe he didn't want to go. Maybe he wanted somebody to save him. Anybody to tell him that he shouldn't. But the cars were passing by. And they would keep passing even if he would pass to another place. And the river would keep flowing even if he would flow whit it. The world would keep spinning just like always if he was no longer on it.

The boy wanted for it to be a lie. But it wasn't.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Tony's voice. Since May's death, Peter had lived whit the man. He wanted to call him Dad. Tony probably wouldn't like it. The boy looked down. At the man in the suit. At the water. He was worrying the only person alive who was taking care of him. A burden. A problem. That's all he was. Tony would be better of without him. And he pushed off.

The air bruising his face slightly. Eyes dry, but not closing. The water closer and closer. And then he hit something hard.

Something metal. Something that was holding on to him and fastly moving in the direction of the Stark logo highlighting the sky.

Landing. Laying on something soft. A couch. Someone pulling him into a hug. Tears. When some of them trailed down his cheeks many more came. And the man's arms around him didn't let go. He cried. But if somebody was there to hold on to him maybe just maybe he would try and not let go.