super super. peter parker

FIFTY FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

love persevering 

The feeling of grief never truly went away. It lingered, cooly, in the back of one's heart, heavy and persistent, no matter the finished sadness and new acceptance. Eddy knew the feeling well. The knowledge that they were gone, never to come back, could never actually leave his thoughts. It stayed at the back of everything he did, infecting each memory and each new reflection.

No matter how many people he lost, it didn't get easier. And there were many lost. So many.

The gravity of what had happened was difficult to comprehend. They had been gone for five years. Ned and MJ too. Aunt May had been left behind, haunting the apartment alone, piecing what little she could together. She didn't look a day older, but a permanent sadness had taken over her eyes, and as the days went on, she only seemed to heal a little at a time.

Eddy wanted to believe that they'd reached the end of it, that their suffering was in the past, that Tony's death had been the last. He forced himself to believe it was true.

Because life went on, as difficult as it was.

The funeral took place at one of Tony's favourite log cabins, out in the woods. 

He'd zoned out halfway through, unable to hear anything more in fear of breaking out in a sob. It wasn't until Aunt May placed a hand on his shoulder, that he realised people were beginning to leave, walking away from the lake. At some point, he'd taken hold of Wanda's hand, and they both gripped on tightly, refusing to let go. In the fight, Vision had been lost too. Wanda hadn't opened up about it, but she'd spoken those old words again. What is grief, but love persevering? In spite of everything, it made Eddy smile. 

But even without them, life went on. 

The Avenger's complex felt too vast without Tony, too empty. Mr Stark had filled each room he went into, and had filled it long after he left. The memory left behind of him was suffocating. Eddy could see him at each turn of the corridor, each time he pushed open another door. The grief was overwhelming, and it only solidified how much Eddy had loved the man, a thought which made Eddy bite his wrist, forcing back a sob. He'd never told him how much he'd loved him. Tony had been like a father in that short time. 

It was Steve who'd found him sitting on his bed in his funeral suit. The wristband that doubled as his suit was sitting in his lap, the last of which Tony had made and never had the chance to give him personally. He couldn't put it on. The finality of such an action would have broken him.

Steve lingered in the doorway, eyes sad and sympathetic.

"Do you ever wish you made it back to the past?"

Eddy paused for a minute. The question was not what he expected, not from Steve, not at that moment. But he knew the answer. He'd had the option to go back, to be the one to take the stones and to stay there with his sister. But it had never felt like a choice. There had only been one right solution. 

"I've lost. I've grieved. The pain is finally healing. My home is here now. My family is here," he said quietly, flipping the wristband between his fingers. "And I don't think I could get closure for the loss and grief I feel here if I went back."

Steve wasn't looking at him. His elbows were leaning against his knees as he sat beside him on the bed, eyes trained on the floor.

"I almost stayed," he finally said, looking up at him, eyes truthful and revealing. "There was a moment when all of the stones had been put into their places, that I went to see Peggy."