✯ 𝕀𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕕 ✯

" 𝕎𝕙𝕪? "

a/n: depression/mental health issues

if you don't feel comfortable with this kind of stuff, i'd recommend not reading it. i won't be marking beginning and ending because this chapter is angsty in itself.

Tony POV:

I've been worried about the kid.

He's been making weird and unusual excuses for not being able to follow through with our normal routine. I miss picking him up from school, working on his web solution in the lab, watching him sing along to every Disney movie soundtrack imaginable, and just simply spending time with him. I consider him a close friend.

Honestly, I care about him more than I'd like to admit. He's like a son to me.

However, I haven't seen him in nearly a month and the rest of the Avengers claim to have noticed his absence as well. Not to mention his "excuses" are getting a bit suspicious. They always go along the lines of,

"I have a lot of homework!"
"Aunt May is making me stay home."
"I'm sick."
"I'm hanging out with Ned today."

These repeated phrases were once believed, but I'm getting mildly annoyed because of it. If he's avoiding me, he should tell me in person.

Deep in thought, I decide to find out for myself once and for all. I'm tired and far to worrisome to wait any longer for him to come to me.

Little did I know he wasn't avoiding me. He was avoiding the world.

Peter POV:

It's been rough.

Really, really rough.

I haven't had a good nights sleep in a while.

I cried again last night. That's three days in a row.

What have I become?

I've began to shut out everyone, including the most important people in my life. It saddens me even more that they believe my lame excuses, of which I feel guilt for. I feel beyond guilty.

"Peter, honey. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Aunt May."

"Hey Pete, you look a bit down. What's up?"

"I'm fine, Ned."

"Kid, you aren't fooling anyone. What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark."

My depression is getting worse.

I hate the word "fine" terribly. It's like a shield I use to avoid vulnerability.

I don't know what to do.

Really the only thing that helps guide me through all of this is patrol. I feel like when I put on the suit, I have a clean slate. I'm not weak and depressed Peter Parker, I'm a teenage crime fighting hero. It's helps.

Aside from patrolling, there's nothing else to distract me from my dangerous thoughts. I've managed to push all of my loved ones out of my life and I have no one to turn to.

I've been patrolling a lot later than I usually would. It's just hard to climb back through that window and return to my mistakes.

I sniffle and before I know it tears are silently falling down my face and I contain my ever-present sobs because then it'll get out of hand.

These crying spells come out of nowhere, and its gradually getting harder and harder to control them.