Superfamily Oneshots

Not You Too

A/n Ok so... this gets dark. Like... really dark. Trigger warning level dark. There's going to be mentions of self-harm, implied eating disorder, emotional abuse, and a full-blown anxiety attack right at the end so if any of those things trigger you please just skip this chapter, I promise to put out some fluffy stuff soon. 

His ears were ringing, hands shaking and palms sweating. She was dead. First his parents, then Ben, then Tony, and now May. He could dimly hear a doctor speaking, saying something about making arrangements. Peter looked up with blank eyes. 

"-there someone you can call?" the doctor asked. She was young, maybe 30 years old, but her face already had deep lines of stress. He shook his head mutely, looking back down at the ground. 

"Would you like to see her?" He hesitated before nodding, standing up, and following the doctor out the door. They weaved through a maze of hallways, sounds of death, and the stench of sickness assaulting his senses from every direction. He stared resolutely at the floor, as if maybe if he didn't look this nightmare would go away. He almost ran into the doctor when she stopped in front of the door 

"She's just in here," she said gently, opening the door and going in. Peter's feet followed robotically, and soon he was standing by a cold metal table. A person was resting on it, their body covered by a white sheet. The doctor folded back the top delicately and Peter stopped breathing.

It was her, but it wasn't her. Her hair was still long and smooth, albeit slightly mussed from the whole ordeal. He could still see the lines on her forehead, and her makeup was almost completely intact. But her skin was cold and pale, and there was an emptiness about her that made Peter's chest ache. Cuts and bruises and blood adorned her face, and her lips were swollen and puffy. Still, it was her. It was May. Before he knew what was happening, he was in the hallway, sobbing, and retching into the nearest trash can. There wasn't anything to bring up, but his stomach didn't care. He collapsed against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his head in them. 

She's dead, she's dead and it's your fault you worthless excuse of a hero, how can you save others when you can't even save the people closest to you, why are you like this, why couldn't you be better-

"Hey, hey there, you're alright." A hand touched his gently and he flinched violently, turning away from the contact and squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Okay, no touching, that's okay," the voice said. Peter struggled to breathe, air hitching in and out of his lungs as he cried. Someone settled on the floor next to him, resting their head against the wall. 

"Can you take some deep breaths for me?" Peter shuddered. "We can do it together," they continued, scooting a little closer towards him. " Just follow my lead. In-" He heard them breathe in and copied them, forcing air in and holding it until he heard the rush of air leave their lungs. "-and out." Eventually, Peter's breath evened and he lifted his head, sniffing and wiping his nose. The female doctor smiled back at him - her name tag read Charlotte - and offered him her hand. They helped each other stand up, Peter wiping at his face furiously. 

"Sorry about that," he whispered, ducking his head. Charlotte smiled sadly.

"It's no trouble," she said. "Do you have anyone you could call? I have some paperwork for you to sign, and an adult has to be present for you to fill it out. Plus, I don't want to leave you all alone." Peter exhaled shakily and shook his head. He didn't want to bother Mrs. Potts. The last thing she needed to deal with right now was more death. Charlotte's brow furrowed and she sighed.

"Alright, I'll find someone you can talk to." She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay."

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