The World I Knew [Discontinued]

Pasta!

Peter was crying. He knew he was; but he could exactly stop it.

He wanted to stop it, he did, but he couldn't.

His brain was quiet, for the first time in his life, and so was New York, for the first time in existence.

"Holy crap," Ned breathed, everyone turning to Peter, who could only gape at the tv blankly. "You're... really cool."

Peter could've laughed at how bland it sounded, if he was actually paying attention. When he'd been fighting Thanos, he hadn't felt anything but anger and determination, and such a devastating loss that he honestly could not have cared less what happened to himself or Thanos, but watching it was drastically different.

Watching it was so... incredible, and amazing. It made it feel dramatic, like watching a movie. Then again, his whole life seemed like a movie.

It was sort of hard to wrap his head around the fact that it had been him doing all that stuff. He'd punched straight through the titan's skull. He'd ripped Thanos's jaw off, even if it had been on accident. He'd fallen from excruciating pain, and then had gotten up even as his body was actively crumbling and disintegrating.

He partially wondered how everyone else reacted to it, as in, the whole world.

He knew the footage had been taken from Wakanda, but he didn't know who'd released it. He'd have to ask someone sometime soon, and also thank them for editing his mask on, and keeping their promise—though he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about having that whole fight broadcasted on an international news channel.

A hand landing on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see May staring down at him.

And then she hugged him, practically attacking him, and knocking him back into the bed, arms wrapped around with head and squeezing tightly.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear.

"How'd you heal from that burn?" Hope asked.

"Everyone was fixed when we came back from the dead, I think," Peter choked out, finding it a little hard to breathe with May's shoulder pressing into his windpipe—though luckily she released him when she heard him, and she let him sit back up, giving room for Hope to sit next to him.

"Are you okay now?" Hope asked, trying to cup his cheek—though he caught her hand as she tried to wipe away the tears still cascading down his cheeks.

Peter shook his head, breath shuddering. "C-can you guys give me a minute?"

They all hesitated, then slowly filed out, leaving Peter slump against the bed again and curl up around one of the insanely comfortable, blue pillows and wait for the sobs to pass.

When they did, he didn't even bother to move, he just waited for his tears to dry before he even tried to move--and even then, his movements were shaky, at best, as he got up and wandered out of the room, glad to find that his friends and family weren't just waiting for him. It left him room to go to the kitchen and see if he could actually get food this time, instead of breaking down again, or trying to keep it together--though he grabbed the Iron Spider holding unit, and hooked it onto the hem of his pants, because even though he couldn't fight anymore, his suit could, and if something happened between Tony and the Rogues, he, at least, would be protected.

*****

Creeping to the kitchen didn't really work, mostly because a certain billionaire was leaning against the counter, staring at an unopened bottle of wine, tense and uncertain.

And Peter was nowhere near graceful or quiet when he walked through the door.

Tony startled and turned to see Peter, wide-eyed and stiff.