Chpater 6 Grief is a Fickle Thing

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Peter slowly stirred from sleep and immediately wished he could fall asleep again. To escape back to dreamland and away from reality. He kept his eyes closed against the sunlight that poured into his bedroom. He rolled over and shoved his head under his pillow. He didn't want to face today, he didn't want to deal with the faking that came so naturally to him. He didn't want to have to get up and go about life as if it was normal. He didn't want to shove his emotions down so other people wouldn't worry about him. He didn't want to remember his mum wasn't here.

He was tired, missed his mum, and knew he didn't have the energy to get out of bed. Even something as simple as that felt overwhelming and impossible. His grief weighed down on his chest, keeping him pinned to the bed and unable to move. He didn't want to live today. He didn't want to keep going on with his life without his mum there. He could feel her absence in everything he did. Everytime something reminded him of their inside jokes, whenever he saw something she loved, something she thought would be incredible. Everytime he turned to mention it to her. And everytime she wasn't there smiling next to him like she should be, and everytime his heart broke a little more.

He missed her warm brown eyes. He missed her smile, her laugh, her humour, he missed her so much he could feel the ache in his very bones. He could feel her absence like waking up one day without a limb. His heart felt so empty without her there to cheer him up. He felt so hollow inside. All he wanted was to grieve like he was supposed to, but he was so numb. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He wanted to sob into his pillows for days, but he couldn't.

He felt so numb and he hated it. The emotions were so overwhelming he couldn't even process them anymore, didn't want to. But he'd rather be numb than drowning, drowning, drowning slowly until he couldn't keep himself afloat anymore.

Numb was preferable, no matter how much he hated it.

He still couldn't get out of bed. He didn't want to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed until he heard a small knock on his door. He did nothing to acknowledge the person and instead buried his head further.

He heard the door open and her a quiet, "Peter?" from Tony. He didn't stir. He just wanted one day to himself where he didn't have to face everyone in his life. He just wanted one day to quietly grieve without worrying everyone in his life. He supposed that was also due to not wanting to appear weak to the Avengers, but that was another can of worms for a different day. He was already struggling today, and he didn't need to add insecurities on top of that mess.

"Hey, Peter. It's time to get up, bud," Tony said softly and Peter felt the bed dip next to him. He shook his head and heard Tony sigh.

He squeezed his eyes harder, waiting for the inevitable moment Tony would make him get up and face his miserable life. It never came. He could still feel Tony sitting next to him, but he made no move to leave or to speak. He simply sat there in silence with Peter, which he appreciated greatly. Tony knew what it was like to lose a mom, especially one you were close to. Sometimes offering a shoulder was all the person needed.

"Do you want something to eat?" Tony asked Peter after a bit. He received a shake of the head and Tony sighed. He'd let it slide this one time. He knew what it was like to be so overcome with grief that you couldn't even bring yourself to get out of bed. So instead, Tony sat there with Peter as the teen stayed buried under his pillow.

Tony hesitated a second before he placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. The teen didn't shake him off, but didn't respond to the touch at all. Tony counted it as a win. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Steve appeared at the door, a question in his eyes and worry written across his face. They made eye contact and a quiet understanding overtook his features. Steve gave a nod before he silently closed the door.

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