update came early. happy birthday lol
DISCLAIMER: this is not hamilton thank you lmao
This is kinda weird to understand but basically one is stuff that happened first, two happened in the middle, three happened last, then four and five are described here. Kinda angsty but I really really like the outcome for once. it has a really happy ending though.
written from peter's thoughts just for the record
Two people walk into a room. One an hour before the other.
ľ̶̘̞̯́̆e̷̩̾̚t̵̨̔̀ ̵̥̊m̶̭̀̓e̴͉͂̊ ̵͖̟͂̍̆ț̴̋͊̍ḙ̵̒l̴̢̖̿̏͘l̴̥͎̇ͅ ̷͓̆y̸̜̏͛͠o̷̧̙͝ú̵̖̣̣͒͝ ̷̺̄a̷̹̤͒͠ ̶̖̅ś̷̯̬t̷̘̬̕o̷̥̽̓͒r̵̡̯̻͂͐̋ý̵̯̹
a̴̫̎̃c̵̫̓̃t̷̼́̃ȕ̸̜̮͂̈́ȁ̷̭ͅl̶̳͖͉̀͌͝l̸̲̺͕̅ẙ̵̫̍̕͜,̷̦̦͍̌̚ ̸̨̦̆n̷̲̥̈́̔̍ͅo̶̭̝͋̃ͅ
let me tell you how a story ends.
number four: Peter loses his last relative
number five: he walks into active gunfire
d̸̺̫̬̈́̾͐o̶̡̝̚ë̸͍̦̝s̵̳͍̔̐ ̴̫̲̥͂ţ̴̘̯́̄h̶̭̥́͂ȩ̷̼̲̏͒͠ ̷̥̞̩̀̏̊s̷̨͇̓̀̔t̴̰́ͅơ̷̲̍ͅr̸̩̯̯͗͋y̵͖̜̾̃̓ ̸̺̀̀̕e̴͎͒̓ň̵̮̼͒̽d̵̥͑͒͝ ̸̧̽ͅt̵͖͇̮́͝ḥ̴̩̉͋ê̷͉͘r̶̹̠̙͑͂ë̸͔͖̤́?̶̢͇̈́̔̐ ̶͎͂
d̶̈́ͅo̸̖̒e̶̘̐s̶͔̿ ̸̬̈t̸̜́h̸̜͐e̶͈̒ ̵̗͌s̷͙̕t̶̡̃ó̸̺ṟ̶̃y̵͂͜ ̸̺̃ė̶̢n̵̡̋ḍ̴̌?̴̛̳ ̶̼͂
Ẅ̵̟̺͚́Ḧ̷͓͚́̈́E̵̛̖̹͜Ñ̶̰̻̕͘ ̵̝͖͑͝D̴͚̰̩̀̊̀O̵̬̓̏Ë̴̮̬̘S̶̥͔͕̏̇̾ ̵̡̭̫̈́T̶̳͙̀͆̎H̷͙̱̔͑̓Ê̸͈͛͛ ̵̢̢̾͘S̴̖̉͐Ṱ̴̜͕̌̎̌Ȏ̷̲̱͂͘Ȑ̷̻͉͋͗Y̸̹̮̋ͅ ̷̫̄E̴̗̱͉͆̌̐Ṋ̸͠D̵̡̦͐̒?̵̜͆
number five: the shots weren't normal. they were alien-
number five: he just did that
number five:
number five:
number-
n̴̙̈͂͑ǘ̶̢͓͌m̶͇̭͋b̶̡͙͉̑͆e̷͉̍ȑ̵̼̀̉
Nothing.
There's nothing that happens after it.
Rewind?
Yes.
Peter's heart is made of glass. No. Cracked glass: a piece so thin and brittle and damaged to the point of breaking, and cracks are spread all across and he's about to collapse. Yes. Better. A famed man's kind brown eyes hidden behind a paparazzi's facade. There it was. The story. The story starts in an apartment.
Is the story worth telling?
No.
Is anything, really?
Perhaps.
But the story still starts and if it doesn't start it doesn't end, and if it doesn't start or end then it never gets told and the story ceases to exist.
w̵̘͑h̶̻͠o̵͖̔ ̵̮̈́l̶͔̀i̸̘̅v̵̩̿e̸̺͝s̸̬̃?̷̢̔ ̴͉̓w̷̠̎ḧ̷̳ó̴ͅ ̴͎̿d̶͈̀i̸̤͛e̷̲͐s̸̢̚?̸̢͑
d̵̢̄ö̶̠́e̶̞̅ş̵̄ ̸̻͛a̵̧̾n̸̺̈́y̴͎͌o̷̯͊n̵͉͛e̶̲̿ ̵̠̓d̸̥͋į̵̾e̵̺̾?̴̢̊ ̷̜̋ó̸̩n̷̟̾é̷͎ ̵̖̀ȏ̶̹r̶͓̽ ̵̘̀ṭ̵͌ẃ̸̧o̸̞̅ ̴̗̌o̷̲̊r̸̩̽ ̸̼͗ń̴̹o̷͍̚n̶̿ͅë̷́ͅ ̶͙͘o̴͎͘r̶̤̂ ̸͈̀d̷̨̈́o̷͈̎ ̵͚̕ẃ̴͙e̸̳͛ ̶͖͛e̷͉͘v̷͖́ḛ̶̈n̶͖͘ ̸̳̐c̸̣̋h̶͇͗ả̷͜n̴̯͝g̶̗͠ȩ̴̍?̶͂ͅ
One.
A man in his apartment on his couch. With his aunt. A man with a mastery of words and so famous that Peter doesn't even know what to say. Turns out, that's okay. Turns out that's enough. He can already see the man's - Mr. Stark's - facade breaking down into something familiar already and he thinks - yeah. Maybe this can work.
Two.
And they're on a planet, and Peter knows he should be terrified but Mr. Stark's there with him and he inexplicably feels safe. It almost makes sense. Mr. Stark was like a father to him. They're inhaling ash and dust as a gun is pressed to his forehead and he can feel his nerves spiking as he plans his next course of action, but fear is keeping him paralyzed.
Three. The beginning of the end.
ò̸̱r̶͇͗ ̵̺̊i̴̠̇s̶̞̑ ̷̗͘i̴͈̽t̷̹͌?
Peter died. He died but he's back, uncertain how but he's glad. And he's back with Mr. Stark and he sees the love and affection in his eyes but it's not for him. Maybe a part of it, but-
Three.
Dark hair falling over chocolate brown eyes and smooth skin of a child. Mr. Stark is hugging her and she's beaming and she's perfect. She's beautiful and she's laughing and she's smiling and Mr. Stark is smiling back in a way that he never had at Peter.
Two.
A tight smile across a battlefield as they lay in wait. Peter searched to see any emotion in it, any hint that Mr. Stark cared. None. What if this was Peter's last battle?
Three.
It was. It was Peter's last battle and he died and he shouldn't be upset because of Morgan but he is, not at her but at himself because of course he was never good enough. There was a reason he was chosen by the stones to die.
Three.
Will he ever be okay?
Three.
He won't.
One.
They're in the labs, and Mr. Stark is laughing in one of the rare moments Peter was able to draw his attention to make a stupid science pun and Peter is thinking. He's thinking maybe he won't lose this, maybe the universe took pity on him.
Three.
No.
Two.
Peter's senses are going off, and he knows there's nothing on Titan that would control it and he knows he's about to die, so when Peter #2 dusts, he knows what's coming, and when the dawning realization came that he was going to follow, he looked to Mr. Stark. The man was looking anywhere but him.
Three.
Morgan is such a brilliant kid, and he can see why Mr. Stark's so taken with her. She is so much better than him, and really, isn't anyone?
Two.
Peter is stumbling toward Mr. Stark, who is finally looking at him with a dulled fear in his eyes. When he tries to tell Mr. Stark what's happening, a frozen response was all he got. He got told he was alright.
Two.
He wasn't alright.
Two.
Not a word of closure from Mr. Stark, he didn't even try to say goodbye. He didn't even look sad.
Three.
Why would he be sad? Now he was free to a new life - a better life! He had everything he could want now - a wife that loves him, a child he adores, a small cottage where they could live in peace.
Three.
That life had no room for Peter. It just didn't.
One.
They stood shoulder-to-shoulder (well, not exactly. Mr. Stark was taller than him by a good amount) at so many fights. Peter knew him.
Three.
And that's why Peter knew he couldn't mess things up for Mr. Stark again.
f̵̘͊ò̷̙u̸̳̓ȓ̷̤
No. Not yet.
Three.
Europe. A brilliant city. It all went to shit after that. Mr. Stark hadn't bothered to reach out. At least he'd sent his glasses. His stupid glasses-
One.
Mr. Stark said - he said he'd be there for him. No matter what.
Three.
But he wasn't. And he had no reason to. And guess what? He didn't even have the glasses anymore. There was no hint of his father figure in his life.
Three.
Did he expect the universe to change? Maybe a little.
Three.
At least now he had MJ.
Four.
Yes. Now we can do it. Déjà vu. On the streets, alone. A gunshot splitting through the air, and the wind is already whistling around him as he is falling through the air toward the sound.
Four.
Red. That's it. Red everywhere. Staining everything. The fabric of his suit? Soaked with it, and the wetness of the liquid was already registering on his skin as he clutched at the body. No. NO.
Three.
Morgan was there, and Mr. Stark was enraptured. Peter tried to explain what happened in Europe. Mr. Stark didn't care. He excused himself to go take care of her. Peter tried not to hurt, he really did. But his emotions were frayed from Mysterio and he was recovering from the multiple gunshot wounds and contusions and fractures in his bones because he was hit by a train and thrown off a building for fuck's sake-
Four.
Mr. Stark didn't pick up the phone. HE DIDN'T PICK UP THE PHONE.
Four.
Why would he?
Five.
Peter saw the lights of the battle. He already knew what was going to happen. Time seemed to slow down. Blinding light streaking toward his chest, and-
Ṭ̴̕w̸̯̓o̶̤͠ ̵͇̑p̷͍̉ḙ̴̈́ǫ̷͝ple meet in one of their apartments. One doesn't seem to change, one does. Two people meet. Two people walk out. One changes. Who?
Who changed?
You have twenty minutes. Show your work.
Show.
Your.
Work.
I̴͓̊s̷͖̋ ̵̝̈t̶̮̿ḩ̸͊ȋ̴̩ŝ̷̤ ̴͙̃ẗ̴̮́h̶̤̽e̸̗͝ ̸̖̎e̸͔̍n̴͈͗d̸̜̒?̶̥̿
I̷͍͊s̶̟̚ ̴̤̔t̵̩͆ȟ̸̠i̶͔̎s̷͖̕ ḣ̸̢o̷̬̒w̶͚̅ ̶̰͒ḯ̵̤t̷͚̆ f̷̹͝i̶͕͛n̶̼̐a̷͒ͅl̵̛̝l̴̮͒ȳ̷̻ h̵̼̓a̶̜͐p̴̙̄p̶̨̓ë̶͚n̵̛͍ṡ̵͓?
Not. Yet.
Six.
Blinding lights so bright and beeping so loud that Peter wants to close his eyes again and drift back into the black void that had claimed him for so long.
Six.
A comforting voice. So familiar. Asking if he was alright.
Two.
He told him he was going to be alright. He was wrong.
Six.
She wasn't there, now. She wasn't in the hospital - no, the Med Bay. It was him and the man. Mr. Stark. Anger, fear, and sadness claimed him at the same time. How did he feel about the man?
One. Comfortable.
Two. Concerned.
Three. Devastated.
Four. Broken.
Five. Satisfied.
But it didn't work.
Six.
Six.
Six.
six-
He was alive.
Physically.
Mr. Stark smiled softly at him.
Called him 'kid', like before.
Told him something he'd never heard from him before.
Mr. Stark told Peter he loved him.
Seven.
I told you how a story ended. You may think it continued. No. A story ended, and a new one began. A new story, of a boy who found a new family after everything.
Two people leave a hospital.
They both changed.
happy thanksgiving, y'all.
If you guys couldn't read the glitch text: here's the lines.
'let me tell you a story.' - 'actually no.' - 'does the story end there?' - 'does the story end?' - 'WHEN DOES THE STORY END?' - 'number' - 'who lives? who dies?' - 'does anyone die? one or two or none or do we even change?' - 'or is it?' - 'four' - 'two people' - 'is this the end?' - 'is this how it finally happens?'
I hope you guys got that.
have a great day/night!