SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.
“Mister Stark, can you hear me? It’s Peter,” the young hero tried to hold back his tears as he fell to his knees next to his mentor. “I’m sorry.”
It was a most painful thing and he listened, trying to get through to him. As he was pulled away from him, everything just became to loud. He watched Pepper cry over him as well before she turned on him, clearly angry.
“You did this!” she nearly screamed. “This is all your fault! You are the reason he took it upon himself to try and save everyone! If it wasn’t for you, he’d still be alive!”
Peter sat up in bed, panicked. Tears pricked his eyes as he wiped away the sweat that had formed on his brow. Nightmares were a common occurrence anymore. He shouldn’t be surprised when he woke up from one and he shouldn’t be this sad. Yet here he was, months later and still crying. He hated this. During the day he could hold himself together, but at night he was all alone and when you’re all alone, everything is amplified.
Leaning back on his bed, he curled up and stared at his closet in distaste. In the back corner laid several suits, all made by Tony. Apparently, even while he had been dead, he was still making suits for Peter. Pepper had thought that it would be best for him to have them. To use them and to not let them go to waste. He had severely failed her there. He hadn’t used any of the suits except for the one Tony had presented to him in Germany. Peter felt awful for letting multi-million dollar suits go to waste like that, but he just couldn’t bring himself to use them.
He lost track of time until his alarm on his phone rang. Peter wasted no time in turning off the alarm and sitting up, knowing he would be forced to face another day. On the upside, he never talked to his friends anymore about the Stark internship. He knew that made them happy. They had never really cared besides Ned and he was fairly certain that they got annoyed by the constant discussion of it anyways. Peter threw on somewhat clean clothes and grabbed his backpack before heading out the door without breakfast, just not wanting to eat.
Arriving at school was the hardest part. He had to carefully avoid his friends and his enemies and try to get to class without being seen. Once in class he was fairly safe. Listen to the teacher, take notes, collect homework, and repeat. When lunch rolled around he would work on the homework he had collected until it was time for the rest of his classes. Once that final bell rang, he was out of the classroom to his apartment as quickly as possible only to change into his suit and leave again. It was clockwork. It was a firmly set schedule and the only thing that kept him sane.
One thing that wasn’t though, was what he did in the suit. Everything he tried to do to apprehend bad guys was him trying to repay Tony. Peter knew it would never be enough, but he also knew that he had to try. What type of person wouldn’t?
“Karen, scan the city. What’s going on?”
“There are two graffiti artists on the south side Peter.”
“So basically nothing. Great,” he muttered.
Days when nothing really happened were the hardest. It gave him too much time to think. Because of this, he would still go see what these two graffiti artists were up to and stop them. However, when Peter arrived, he had to stop and stare. The artists were gone, but their artwork wasn’t. It was a huge Iron Man mural and when Peter realized that, he just leaned back against the opposite wall.
It took him maybe two seconds before he was on the ground, pulling his mask off and hyperventilating. Peter couldn’t stop the tears as they fell. He hated not being in control of his own emotions. Staring at the mural wasn’t helping at all in this regard. For a good ten minutes or so he sat there and sobbed before he turned back to the painting.
Peter stood up, throwing his mask at the wall. “This is your fault! You’re the one who left! No one needed to be saved that much!” he screamed at the painting. “I couldn’t save you! How could I? I’m only a kid! A kid! It’s my fault. I let you down. I’m sorry Mister Stark. I’m so sorry.”
His anger turned back to grief very quickly. “I’m sorry,” Peter repeated. “I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry. Just come back please. The world needs you. Pepper and Morgan need you. I need you. They are all looking for the next Iron Man. Mister Stark... I just want the old one back. Please. Come back,” he begged.
With that, Peter curled in on himself, mask clenched tightly in one fist. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t move on yet. Yet, he did remember one thing. Tony had made him an Avenger. And Peter would be damned if he didn’t avenge him.
