Wrong number :/~~Spider-Man

😬

The two older men slowly rose, accepting that perhaps some time to mull it over would be best. Peter probably wouldn't be the most comfortable with anyone in his personal space for a while.

Tony wondered if he should get some of the woman on the team to interact with Peter, see if that'd help any.

When Peter was left alone, he felt a singular tear run down his face. Nothing else changed in his posture. His arms didn't clench and unclench the bedding he was on. His breathing wasn't irregular, nor was his heart pounding in his chest. Hell, there wasn't so much as an eyebrow twitch from the kid.

He just sat there.

One drop turned into many, until his face was a river of tears.

Maybe cursing out the universe wasn't such a good idea, he concluded.

It didn't take long until the monitor recording his constant heart rate was smashed against the wall into little shards. He snuck around the tower into his room and grabbed his suit, slipping it on before Tony or Stephen would even get the alarm. He ran out of his room, going to find an unlockable window.

Once completed, he leaped. He didn't care where he was going, he didn't care how ever inch of his body was screaming at him to stop, that the cuts and the bruises weren't healing fast enough for this, he just glided over the towers.

He couldn't even bother to focus on the wind blowing against him, his usual nightly therapy. Of course, in this case, it was hardly considered late afternoon yet.

He felt wet spots appearing at his suit's price, uncaring about how horrible it'd be to let the new cuts heal over after he'd torn the stitches so quickly.

He just had to go.

His misfortune had spread too far now.

Back when it was just him involved in an accident or two, that was fine. He could handle that.

When Skip came along? He found his personal limit. He discovered the way he wouldn't allow himself to be treated by anyone. That was where he drew the line.

Was it enough, though?

Why the hell would it be?

When Tony got involved, Peter nearly gave up right then and there. He was willing to throw it all away. He didn't care what happened. He didn't care who he hurt, because it would never equal to the pain he knew he'd feel if he just had to watch his last resort on life die.

But Harely??

That..

That was cruel.

That was cruel.

Peter knew his rapid breathing would soon dampen his swings, so he headed to the more rural areas, changing into a dead spirit towards the forest.

This was beyond Skip now. This was beyond everything.

Peter could handle it! He could take it! Yeah, having his chest bashed in with the nearest metal object while strapped to a chair wasn't ideal, but he'd get over it! Probably!

But this?

It was enough, wasn't it?

He could stop now, right?

There was no way the universe would hit at him anymore after this, right?

Because what had he done? Who had he hurt? At what point in his life was it etched in stone that he'd suffer from all of this??