Glazed Eyes, Empty Hearts ➳ Spideypool

8➳Cool

  I was just trying to be cool
I was just trying to be like you
I'm a spark and you're a boom
What am I supposed to do? 

*

{Hey yall I just got excited and wanted to post this one too hope that's cool}

{this is kinda choppy sorry hope y'all enjoy}

Tony's POV

Peter's asleep by the time I get him back to the tower and tucked carefully into his bed. It's late, so I hope Jason either knows where Peter is or just assumes he's already left for school. I don't want to have to make the phone call.

Peter looks wrecked.

Dark smudges under his eyes from sleepless nights, a busted lip, a bruise on his jaw, another on his cheekbone, more littering his arms and even one peeking up from under his collarbone.

I don't know what the hell is going on with this kid, I just wish he'd talk to me.

I hate myself when only an hour passes, and I'm shaking the kid awake.

"Time for school, kiddo. I can't just kidnap you and keep you here. Let's go," I say, brushing some curls away from his forehead.

He groans, eyes opening blearily. "'M tired," he whines.

"I know, kiddo. You were up pretty late last night, but I want to talk to you while you have breakfast. You said some pretty interesting things last night," I say, keeping my tone light for the time being.

He nods slowly, eyes a little too glassy for my liking as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. "Imma shower. Be there in 10."

I make eggs and toast with orange juice for breakfast because I don't really know what to feed the kid. He doesn't stay nights very often.

Peter wanders out of his room not long later wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of jeans, wet hair curling around his pale face. He still looks exhausted and somewhere past broken as he collapses into the seat across from me.

I open my mouth to speak when he cuts me off.

"I didn't do my Chemistry homework last night," he says, like it's the most important thing to mention right now.

"Peter, last night-"

"Last night I was exhausted and emotionally unstable because of my visit to their graves. I was just messed up last night. I'm fine now," he says. But the way he looks up at me through his eyelashes, baby brown eyes glazed over with pain, bottom lip trembling, I can't help but wonder if maybe this is something worse than I thought.

"You're not fine, Pete," I point out softly. "You're not okay and I don't think you've been okay for a very long time."

The teenager doesn't answer for a long while, eating his breakfast in silent peace.

When the plate is empty, he looks up at me with a nervous look. "Can, uh, can I have seconds?"

"We're out of eggs, but I think there's cereal up in that cupboard," I say, pointing behind me towards the kitchen.

When he gets back with a large bowl of lucky charms, eyes alight with excitement, I feel bad for forcing the conversation.

"Listen, kid, I can't just forget this. You said some really worrying things to me, and I honestly can't remember the last time I saw you without bruises," I say, shaking my head sadly. "I just want to know what's going on with you, Pete? I can help."