Marvel Oneshots

Late Night // Irondad

Summary:

Peter has a breakdown and Tony comes to the rescue

Tw: depression, self-loathing, wanting to die

//

[Peter]

It had been a really long week. I slept a total of 3 hours all week, barely ate anything, and Flash decided to pick on me even more. I've always been good at ignoring him, but he brought up Aunt May and Uncle Ben this time. 

When I got into the car with Happy at the end of the day on Friday, I didn't even bother trying to talk to him. He never really talks much anyway, so what was the point? 

"What's up kid, you're quiet today." He asked after 5 minutes of complete silence. I just shrugged and brushed it off.

"Been a long week." I muttered, receiving a worried glance from Happy before he shut the divider. 

Little did I know he was calling Tony and telling him that I was acting 'weird'.

Once we arrived at the compound, I got out of the car and started off towards my room. I got to the living room without question, until...

"Hey, kid." Tony. Just what I needed.

"Hey, dad. Just going up to my room to do some homework. I'll be down for dinner if I finish." I said, ignoring his protests and walking past him to the elevator. 

The minute I got to my room, I shut the door, threw my backpack over to the corner, and threw myself face-first onto my bed. I let out a muffled screech, pulling at my hair. My thoughts were running rampant, leaving me to not be able to focus on anything else. I didn't even realize I was crying until I sat up and saw the wet patch on my comforter. 

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall across from it, trying to slow my thoughts down. But it was useless, everything had been building up all week. This was bound to happen. I didn't notice at first, I just figured the weird emptiness was from not eating or getting enough sleep. But it got bigger and bigger as the week went on. I would no longer laugh at Ned's jokes or excitedly run to tell Tony about something that happened earlier. I wouldn't join into conversations at dinner or throw on a fake smile. I didn't have the energy to do it. 

It felt like I was crushed under a building (which I know first hand how that felt), the weight of all these thoughts crushing my happiness. 

"Loser."

"Fat."

"Ugly."

"Worthless."

"Disgusting."

"Stupid."

"Nerd."

"Bitch."

"No one likes you."

"No one cares."

"You could die and no one would even notice."

"Tony just cares for you out of pity."

"Even your own parents couldn't stand you."

"You can't do anything right."

"You're a burden."

"It would better for everyone around you if you just died."

I pulled at my hair again, trying to pull away from my thoughts, trying to stop the breakdown. It was coming and I knew it. I couldn't keep it away any longer.