the one where sh*t happens

Chapter Eighteen

*y/n pov*
"Hey Peter can you tell me where we're going?"
He was dragging me by my good arm through Gatwick airport.
"Home. Duh."
"Home?"
"New York."
"Peter" I stopped him pulling me "I can't go to New York."
"Hey. I love you, but it's not up to you."
"And who says it's up to you?"
"Me. I'm older than you."
"By one month!"
"Doesn't matter. I'm still older."
"I don't care. I can't go back to New York."
"Y/n. We're going to get on this plane; you are going to see everyone again. Yes, they will be pissed that you pretended you were dead. But they will get over it because they love you and they miss you."
"They miss me huh?"
"Yeah!"
"If they missed me so much, and not to be selfish or anything, where was my funeral?"
"What do you mean?"
"My funeral. I was there at Tony's, and Nat's, and Vision's, Loki's, Gamora's."
"You were there?"
"Yeah. And I watched everyone mourn for them. Not me, though. Because as I've told you before, the avengers do not love me Peter!"
"I'm sorry. Back up. You were at the funeral?!"
"Yes."
"W-wha- when w-where?"
"I was there. At the back. I left just before the end."
"And you didn't think to say goodbye?"
"No. There was no point in coming back. There was no point letting everyone know I was alive. No one missed me."
"I missed you! What about me?"
"You had May. And Pepper. And Sam. And Steve. And everyone else looking out for you. No one was ever there to look out for me."
"That's so not true! And you know it. I mean, May didn't stop crying for weeks when you died. Or fake died, or whatever. She was heartbroken. You were like a daughter to her y/n!"
"Like. I was LIKE a daughter to her. But not really. You forget Peter, I'm not a part of your family. I'm just an outsider, just someone that lives with you."
"So what? We meant nothing to you? Just roommates?!"
"That's not what I said."
"Yeah. It kinda is."
"Look, Peter. The point is, what I'm trying to say... I didn't belong. It wasn't my home. It was yours. I've never had somewhere where I was someone's first choice. You and May had each other, family, you pick each other first. Me? I had no one."
"I..."
"No. Don't try tell me I'm wrong. Don't bullshit and say you were there for me. I know you were, but I just didn't come first. Do you know how it feels to have your first choice pick someone else over you? No, you dont. Because everyone fucking loves you."
"Y/n..."
"So don't ask me why I left. Don't tell me I was wrong to leave. Because I had every fucking right! Every legitimate reason and need to escape! Because I would rather live in a world where no one loved me at all, than one where people loved me as a last choice!"
I was screaming.
My face was burning red and tears were streaking down my face.
People were staring.
I didn't care.
My vision was blurry through the tears, but I managed to focus on Peter.
He had been yelling too, but he looked more hurt than angry.
I wanted to run. To leave again.
But my feet were stuck to the ground.
Peter approached me slowly, but did not hesitate to throw his arms around me and cry onto my shoulder.
I still could not move from my position.
I let Peter cry for a few minutes, when I started to hug him back.
My arms slowly wrapped around his waist, and edged up his back. When they were just beneath his shoulders, I pulled him in tighter and cried with him.
We stood in the middle of the airport, hugging and crying, not caring that dozens of people were watching us.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" Peter muttered repeatedly in my hair.
We stood for a while longer, before I decided to say something to him. "I'm sorry. Let's go home."
"Home?"
I nodded.
"You're okay?"
I nodded again.
"Ok. Let's go home."
He gradually pulled away from the hug and gently pressed his palm in mine.
He didn't start walking at first.
I sighed heavily, and wiped my eyes on the edge of my sleeve.
"Let's go home" I repeated after Peter, and we began to walk.