(if eating disorders are triggering to you specifically the symptoms anorexia and bulimia please skip this one!)
Peter couldn't bring himself to eat.
The whole problem started when he was a kid. He was never super secure about who he was, pretty anxious for a child, and when he moved in with his aunt May after his parents passed they were constantly short on money. It didn't make the guilt he had around eating food and spending money on said food lessen at all and over the years his anxiety around food and the world in general got worse.
When he joined highschool, he was constantly picked on. Pushed around, sometimes punched, but what impacted him the most was the constant body shaming.
He could deal with the headaches and the bruises but the words Flash would throw at him about his body left him with thoughts that followed him home and into his mirror. They stuck with him wherever he went.
After about six months of this, it only got significantly worse. That was when he began to considerably limit his eating. Skipping lunches and sometimes breakfast when he could and replacing them with water instead.
And then the spider bite happened and his metabolism went up and he hated himself for how hungry he constantly was. It was to the point where he began eating just to lessen the pain in his stomach, then gagging himself afterwards to throw it all back up.
One time Aunt May caught him and knocked on the locked bathroom door, "Peter? Hun, you okay in there?" She called, pressing her ear closer to the wood.
To Peter the voice came out muffled and he was gasping for breath. He didn't try to hide the fact that he had gotten sick, knowing it would be harder to gaslight his aunt than pretend he was ill or got food poisoning from a street hotdog.
"I threw up." He had said, faking nervousness and letting his voice tremble.
"Oh, bud. Can I come in?" She asked softly. And then she cared for him like he was sick for the rest of the night. He never let it happen again. He began purging right before patrol instead and always carrying mints around with him.
Then he'd limit his breakfast because usually May was out, and he always skipped lunch, opting to talk to Ned and MJ instead. They never really questioned him not eating.
When May wasn't home because of night shifts and she left him cash to eat out, he usually bought a meal for a stranger and returned the cash to May to make it look like he had eaten. Then he'd eat something unsubstantial-- Keto friendly --or not eat at all. This was working out for him until Mr. Stark found him-- and spiderman.
He remembered sitting down on his bed with Mr. Stark just across from him when they had first met and the billionaire had commented, "God, you're skinny. Does your Aunt feed you?"
"Yes! She feeds me." He had responded quickly, not wanting to talk about his weight. He thought of the most recent number on the scale and how it was still too high. Even though in reality, the weight was much too low.
Soon after the interaction and Germany, Peter was heading into the Stark Tower every week to work on his suit with Tony. However, one day, he passed out in the elevator on the way up.
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"Boss" Friday called out, "Peter Parker has arrived."
"Nice, send him up." Tony responded, not taking his eyes off his work.
"Boss, Peter seems to be experiencing extremely low-" but then the AI paused. Tony looked up to vaguely where the voice had come from, "what is it Friday?" He asked.
"Sir, Peter has passed out in the elevator." She revised.
"Woah woah, what?" He asked, immediately standing from his seat and heading to the elevator, finding the kid slowly blinking awake on the ground, sprawled awkwardly over his backpack full of homework. His limbs and bones jutted out awkwardly as what little muscle he had seemed to give away so his skin laid right on his skeleton. Even under the copious amounts of baggy clothes Tony saw it now. The poor kid was made of nothing. Lately his fights as Spiderman had been in not only his suit, but also a hoodie and sweatpants as well. Tony hadn't seen his figure since Germany, and even then it was small. Now it seemed too have gotten significantly worse.
"Friday, what's his weight..?" He asked nervously. He just looked to skinny. It was scary.
"Peter is critically underweight and malnourished, he is currently sitting at 90 lbs, sir." Friday answered.
Tony's eyes widened.
90 pounds.
'How is he functioning?' Tony wondered as Peter began to blink awake fully, his face pale and his hands shaking.
"Hey kid, alright, easy does it." Mr. Stark said, kneeling down in his jeans and AC/DC Tshirt as he helped Peter sit up.
"Sorry about that, I don't know what came over me." Peter said nervously, feeling how shaky his whole body was, "can I get a bottle of water? I think Im dehydrated."
"I think that you haven't eaten yet today." Tony said, staring right at Peter, thinking he was seeing everything. Thinking Peter's family couldn't afford sufficient groceries and now his body was eating away at itself to get the right nutrients with his enhanced metabolism.
The boy faltered at his mentor's confidence, "I have."
"Look, kid, is money an issue? I can help get you food. Easy, you need to eat more than this, this is not healthy." Tony said softly, "let me help you guys out if you need it."
Peter moved to hug his stomach underneath his baggy shirt insecurely. It would never be enough. He had this omnipresent need to watch the numbers on the scale go down. He wanted to watch it drop and drop and drop.
He didn't have an end goal in mind.
He kinda just wanted to feel better. He really just really wanted a break from his own head.
"Look, let's get you something to eat, okay? Then we can go work on your suit. Friday, take us up to the penthouse." Tony directed before Peter could protest.
"No, Mr. Stark, I am fine. Really. I'm not hungry." He said, but his stomach rumbled and broke his lie.
"Why are you lying to me, Pete?" Tony asked, "you aren't being an inconvenience. Everyone needs food."
It took everything in Peter not to start crying or burst into angry yelling. If took everything to contain his feels and lie.
"I just don't want to waste your time." He said, his eyes welling up with tears because on top of everything else this was true too.
"You aren't wasting my time, bud. Let's get some food in you and then you can go on patrol, mkay? It's gonna feel great, you're gonna be so energized with some proper food in you." Tony explained, happy he was going to help the kid.
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Peter stood by a dumpster and gagged himself, forcing the sandwich he'd eaten out of him. After he finished throwing up his dinner, he wiped his mouth, then pulled on his suit, popping a mint in his sour mouth as he did so.
Lately he'd noticed he had lost a lot of hair. His previously brown, curly locks had become threateningly thin and his nails were brittle.
When he got into his suit, Karen spoke to him.
"Peter, you are severely malnourished." She told him for the 70th time. She said if everytime he put on his suit.
And he responded with the same thing he always did, "yeah I know. Don't tell Mr. Stark, I'm handling it."
And everytime she complied. But this time she said something different.
"Peter, your weight is 90 pounds." Karen said, emotion programmed into her voice. He was falling, fast, and the AI sounded genuinely concerned.
But instead of inciting fear and mutual worry, a smile pricked onto Peter's face, leaving as fast as it had come. It was gone as he thought about how fat he felt and looked in the skin tight spiderman suit. Today he pulled on a zipup hoodie and sweatpants to hide the way his ribs stuck out of his suit and how thin his wrists were, the same as most other days. He had a lot more bruises too. His enhanced healing didn't seem to work so well lately, he got big purple bruises from just the simplest things.
But he didn't care. He wanted to change himself and he was willing to do anything to get there.
"Peter, you need to gain weight before you go on patrol." Karen said, intervening again, "what you are doing is incredibly dangerous. You need to eat more." She instructed.
"No." He told her blatantly, beginning to feel angry, "Karen you don't fucking understand. I'm never- I'm so fat." He said, furious tears slipping out underneath his mask and making it hard to breathe, "I hate my body I hate the way I look it's-" he let out a sob.
"Peter, you are critically underweight. You are malnourished enough that you should be hospitalized. Your metabolism added to your rare eating habits has made your bones brittle and you've lost nearly all muscle mass. If you weren't bitten by the spider, you might be dead by now." Karen explained.
"Well maybe that would be better." He mumbled to himself, still hiccuping.
"Peter, are you expressing suicidal ideation?" Karen asked seriously.
But Peter was so hysterical he didn't care anymore, "maybe I am, Karen! Maybe I am tired and maybe I FUCKING HATE MYSELF!" He screamed, hot tears waterfalling down his cheeks as he sobbed deeper, feeling himself dizzying afterwards. His stomach constantly ached and he couldn't figure out if it was the hunger or an ulcer from constantly having nothing but stomach acid in his stomach.
"I hate my body. I can't- I can't stand looking like I do all the time I just wish I was- I wish my stomach would be flat and I wish Flash would stop calling me names and-" he let out a sob and sank to the ground, his breathing growing irratic and out of control as he pulled the mask off, silencing Karen, and grabbed at his thin brown hair, sobbing hysterically.
Little did he know she had called Tony and told him everything.
He arrived in the Iron Man suit and immediately climbed out of it, kneeling in front of the boy.
"Pete, hey bud talk to me. Talk to me, it's okay." He said quickly, his tone soft but his whole body shaking with anxiety. He didn't know any of this had been going on. He had gotten it all wrong.
May had been giving him food.
Peter had just been throwing it away.
Or throwing it up, apparently.
Karen had told him everything she knew, advising to get the boy physical and psychiatric help as soon as possible.
But Peter, instead of recovering from his panic attack, began to slowly fade. His stomach hurt and he was so so skinny. He felt so weak and part of him hoped it was time to go. Time to die.
"Underoos hey! Hey talk to me buddy." Tony said, beginning to panic as Peter's eyes threatened to flutter shut. His skin was cold and clammy and he took shallow, shaky breaths, tears still streaming down his face.
"My stomach h-hurts." He said, but didn't move to do anything about it, "can I just stay here, Mr. Stark? I'm so- I'm so tired."
"No no no, change out of the suit we're going to the hospital." Tony said seriously, pressing the button to devaccum the suit for Peter and lifting him to his feet.
"No! I don't wanna go- I don't wa-" but he faltered, pulling away from Tony, but stumbling backwards and falling to the ground again. He let out a sob, "just- just leave me be."
"No, kid. No you've gotta be spiderman for all these people! You've gotta help the little guy, remember?" Tony said, trying to encourage him willingly into his arms.
"But what about Peter? Nobody wants Peter!" He shouted, "no one loves Peter. Peter is fat and chubby and he eats like a p-pig.." he trailed off, tears streaming heavily down his face as he finished quoting Flash.
"I want Peter! Peter is the best lab partner I could ever ask for! Peter is the smartest damn kid I have ever met. And for Gods sake, Peter is not fat. You're dying kid, you are so so critically underweight this is not healthy. I need you to be healthy." Tony said, next to begging as he slowly approached the kid.
"No no no no no, you can't make me g-go." He stuttered out, knowing full well if he stood up he would pass out. He was a sobbing mess.
"C'mon, Underoos." Tony said, finally catching him and scooping him up in his strong arms. He was much much too light and easy to carry.
Peter tried to fight. But he passed out.
Tony panicked and felt for a heartbeat. It was so so weak and slow but it was there.
Tony rushed him to medbay and pumped him full of nutrients through an IV. When he woke up, Peter tried to rip it out. His body felt better but mentally he was being torn apart. He didn't want the calories. He didn't want to be fat.
Once he got the IV out, he threw himself off the bed, making it a couple steps before collapsing to the ground and then falling into sobs.
Tony came running in and found him bleeding on the floor, immediately pulling the peices together.
Over the months, Peter slowly got better. And while he'd never heal completely, some days would always be off and he might always have these self conscious thoughts about himself, but slowly he made progress.
And progress is all you can ask for.
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