Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

Dear Mister Stark

A/N: Buckle your seat belts folks of the gender spectrum cause this is a nearly a whopping 4K words, well 3836 to be exact, not counting the A/N. I may have written angsty things in the past (especially from my other book with I'm only Human and the Consumption of Guilt oneshots) but this is extremely angsty and one of my personal favorite fics that I've ever written. So lower your weapons and enjoy! *mwhahaha*
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Peter tossed and turned in his sleep, mumbling strings of incoherent phrases as he cries, begged for something. Minute by minute his cries had become louder and louder, waking the young-aged Aunt May. 

The very second her weary, red-rimmed eyes had fluttered open, she was already on her way to Peter. These nightmares, more like night terrors were frequent every night, since, well, Thanos. The mere thought of his name was enough to make chills roll down her spine. She never saw him, but the things he did are something that will forever be in the history pages. She shuddered at the mere thought of him, the legacy he created has left depicted him somewhat compared to Hitler, but if he ever came back to Earth, which she thanks the Lord  won’t happen, but if it were to, she’d have a hell of a lot to go off at him about, regardless of the bearer of the title “The Mad Titan.”

Except right now, her focus is Peter. 

Peter, who kept on losing and losing, so, so much. Was it not enough for his parents to live their last breath as the airplane tipped over into the vast Pacific Ocean? Was it not enough that he had to helplessly watch his Uncle die with the overwhelming guilt that it had been his fault, the overall guilt was the reasoning why he embraced that suit? How much more loss would God put on his trembling shoulders?

She felt her heart crack, another to the ever-growing collection at the boy, her boy’s face contorted in pain as he relieved the worst parts of his life. One day he died at the early age of sixteen, and comes back to life five years later. Despite officially being 21, she still sees the fourteen year old boy who got excited every time a new Star Wars set was released, the same fourteen year old that was utterly shocked to find the Tony Stark in his living room. Oh, how times have changed. She sat at the foot of his bed, softly stroking Peter’s back with one hand, and using the other to run through his curls, hating the pained expression that rested over her nephew’s face. Those cold, unbearable five years had taken a toll on both of them, pale skin contrasting gaunt, sorrowed eyes meeting empty, hollow ones. 

Within a few moments, Peter’s eyes snapped awake, and for the next few moments, the only sound in the Parker residence was the boy’s hitched breathing. Terror coursing through his veins and a watery sensation pricking the back of his eyes, he began to tremble, eyes desperately flickering through the room searching for something, or someone. 

May, sensing the boy’s panic spoke in a grounding tone, “Peter?” Peter felt a moment of tranquility as a flood of relief overcame him when his eyes met hers, and for a glorious moment, the panic subdued. 

Then again, nothing lasts forever. 

Choked gasps began spilling out of his mouth as he craved May’s warm, loving touch. He began to sob into May’s chest muttering, “I’m so sorry May!” May rocked the hyperventilating teenager onto her lap, and despite the five grueling years that had passed, he still fit perfectly into her arms and asked softly, “Peter, what on Earth do you possibly feel sorry for?”