A one-shot based on the song and music video for "The Way She Feels" by Between the Trees.

X

X

X

X

TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF SELF-HARM, MENTIONS OF CHARACTER DEATH.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

X

X

X

X

X

He had promised himself, "never again" after last time. But he'd done the same the time before that. And the time before that.

It seemed to work well enough- when he felt the overwhelming sadness creep up, all he had to do was grab a blade, draw a few lines, clean up quickly. The pain would snap him back to reality, and he'd just go on with his day.

But as Peter stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, fresh razor between his fingertips, all he could feel was anger and hatred for the empty shell of a boy staring back at him.

He felt a pang of guilt at his misery. Tony and Pepper had tried so hard to keep his spirits up over the past few months. They had family dinners every night, went on fun outings, helped him with homework, and reminded him they were there when he was ready to talk about it all.

About her.

The image of his Aunt's bright smile flashed into his mind and he felt bile rise in his throat. Man, he couldn't even think about her face, much less say her name! When he tried to force the image from his head, it just morphed into one of her in that hospital room, pale, still, connected to a bunch of machines…

Stop…

The bruises and cuts covering her skin, the slowing heart monitor…

Stop it right now…

The doctors and nurses talking to him-

"…she likely didn't even feel the impact…"

"….brain death…"

"…tell her you love her…"

"Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!" he yelled at his own reflection. Before he even registered what he was doing, he brought the blade to his wrist.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Peter, you are bleeding. Do you want me to alert the boss for you?" came the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Peter froze, his breathing heavy. The images were gone, and he could only focus on the blood coming from the wounds.

"N-no, Fri. I'm okay."

He calmly turned on the facet, washed the blood off, and then reached for a large band-aid. He washed off the razor and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a folded up white envelope. He slid the blade inside and shoved it back in his pocket.

"The boss has asked me to inform you that if you don't get moving, you will be late for school." The A.I. advised. Pulling on his sweatshirt and backpack, Peter simply nodded before heading downstairs.

Tony stood at the kitchen counter, coffee in hand. "Hey, there you are, Underoos! Was starting to wonder if you were still alive up there!" Peter forced a smile at his guardian's remark before grabbing a poptart pack from a box on the counter. Tony forced a half-smile, trying to mask his concern. "You'd better make sure you eat way more for lunch, kid! I don't want a repeat of you passing out in the lab!"

It was clear to everyone around him that Peter hadn't been eating much, which was a troubling thing. The boy usually had the appetite of three people his age, but he barely seemed to be hungry these days.

He likely wouldn't even eat those poptarts.

Peter looked at Tony, seeing the hint of worry in his eyes. There was always an urge to just blurt it out, just tell him what was happening. But he couldn't do that to either of his guardians. Not after they'd taken time out of their insanely busy lives to help a grief-stricken teenager they barely knew. He couldn't let them see how he was dealing with it all. They just wouldn't understand. They'd likely lock him up in a psych ward and want nothing to do with him if they knew.

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine, Mr. Stark!" The billionaire just ruffled his hair.

"Go get your ass downstairs. Happy's already got the car waiting!"

Still forcing a smile, Peter walked to the elevator. The moment the doors shut, he let his fake demeanor fall. He wondered if keeping up this exhausting façade was worth it. Both his guardians knew what a terrible liar he was. There was no way they thought he was alright.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

He couldn't shake himself out of this depression, no matter how he tried! Shouldn't he be over what happened by now?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

They didn't have to take him in. He didn't even know Tony cared that much. Yet, he took custody of him, tried to keep some semblance of normalcy in his life, and this is how he thanks him and Pepper?

Useless. Stupid. Selfish.

The doors opened, and Peter again forced a smile as he saw Happy impatiently standing by the car.

"Come on, kid! I don't have all day!"

Still smiling at his grouchy driver, Peter got into the backseat.

As Happy shut the driver's side door, he caught a glimpse of Peter in the rearview. For the past few months, the normally chatty teenager had been eerily silent in the car. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he felt incredibly concerned.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, normally you don't shut up, but you barely say a word anymore. Not that I don't mind the quiet, but..."

"Oh. I'm okay, Happy. Honest. Just…still readjusting, I guess."

Happy bit the inside of his cheek but decided to leave it at that. He probably shouldn't pry. If anything, Tony would be the one to handle the kid's issues.

Once the car fell silent again, Peter pushed the sleeve of his hoodie back slightly until he could see the bandage. A tell-tale dark spot was faintly visible. Yanking his sleeve back down, he bit down on his lip and stared out the window.

A poke with a pencil made him jump. "Dude? You there?"

Peter, who had been zoned out for most of class, looked up at his friend. Ned sat in the seat in the next row, concern etched into his features. As he did multiple times a day, he forced a smile.

"I'm fine."

That's the answer Peter gave every day since May's funeral. But Ned knew better than to believe it. It started with Peter slowly getting quieter and quieter, followed by him eating less and less, despite his usually insane appetite. He had stopped showing up to decathlon practice, and barely spoke to him outside of school hours anymore.

He wondered if Peter even still went out as Spiderman.

Peter saw the concern on his friend's face, and the guilt it caused felt like a punch in the gut. Why couldn't he just be happy, instead of making everyone around him miserable? Ned didn't deserve such a horrible friend, just like Tony and Pepper didn't deserve such an ungrateful brat living with them.

"…tell her you love her… say your goodbyes…"

Peter's heart skipped a beat.

Oh god. Not here. Not now.

"…didn't feel the impact…"

The echo got louder, drowning out his teacher's lecture.

"…chest crushed by dashboard…"

He could see her again…she was barely recognizable in that hospital bed.

Blood… her face was covered in blood…

Underneath the bandage, his wrist throbbed. It was almost like it called to him, called out for more; for the one thing to stop his mind from falling down that black hole.

Blood…so much blood…

He sprung to his feet, his teacher stopping mid lecture in confusion.

"I…bathroom..." Peter almost whimpered. He stumbled out of the classroom without giving the teacher a chance to reply and headed towards the bathroom. Ned soon followed close behind.

"What are you doing? Don't follow me! Go back to class!" Peter hissed at his friend, glancing over his shoulder at him. The last thing he needs to do is see this!

"Not until you talk! You haven't been anything like yourself since…well, you know…and it gets worse every day!" Peter quickened his pace, and Ned did the same. "You're always agitated, you're not even focusing anymore…" His voice broke. "I'm your best friend, Peter…talk to me…"

Tears blurred Peter's vision. He wanted nothing more than to just tell him. Tell someone. But just like Tony and Pepper, Peter knew his friend just wouldn't get it.

No one ever will…

"Ned, I'm fine…you don't want to follow me…trust me!"

He reached the bathroom door and went to open it, only to have it fly open and collide into Flash, who was leaving.

"Ow! Watch where you're going, Penis Parker!" he growled, shoving Peter to the ground. Trying to avoid any further fighting, Peter didn't reply, he just tried to get up. Flash pushed him back down. Ned could only gape in shock.

"Leave me alone, Flash…" Peter muttered, his eyes downcast.

"Or what? You'll get Stark to come after me?" Peter stayed on the ground, still and silent, as the bully scoffed. "Give it a rest, Penis! We all know you're a liar! Why would he give the time of day to a pathetic little orphan?"

The bile returned to his throat. Ever since his aunt had passed away, Flash had just gotten meaner towards him. But even being shoved into lockers and onto the floor, and that one kick in the backside still didn't hurt as deeply as his words.

Ned found his voice at that moment. "Oh my god, leave him alone! He's dealing with enough already!"

"Like the fact that he'll never be more than a charity case?" he pushed Ned into the wall before walking away.

Peter stayed where he was on the floor. He felt hot tears welling up his eyes. He knew didn't deserve Tony and Pepper. He didn't deserve their kindness. Why did Flash have to rub it in? But he was right; who would give a shit about him? Especially after he thanks people for their kindness by being so depressed over something that happened months ago.

"…hey man, you alright?" Ned asked, his voice small and quivering. Without answering, Peter pushed himself up and ran into the boys' room, not realizing his phone fell from his pocket.

He hurriedly slammed himself into a stall, not bothering with the lock. All he could think of was relief. His hands shaking, he dug into his pocket until he felt the small white envelope and pulled it out. The razor that had been concealed inside tumbled out and clattered on the tile floor. A moment later he was dragging across his skin again.

A pair of shoes stopped in front of his open stall. Startled, he looked up to see Ned staring in absolute horror, dropping the razor.

Peter froze. This was what he was afraid of. He had warned him. He had told him to not follow him. Why didn't he listen? Why didn't anyone ever listen when he always said he was fine?

"Peter…" Ned's voice broke, his face contorted in shock and dismay.

Embarrassment and rage coursed through Peter's body. "Fuck off!"

Taken aback by the outburst, Ned rushed out of the bathroom, leaving Peter to sink to the floor, arms holding his knees to his chest. He ignored the blood that was now seeping into his jeans as his wrist touched them. His body felt like it was going numb, like he was turning to stone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the razor gleaming in the florescent lights. He stared at it, as if doing so would burn the thing out of existence.

When he scrambled into the hallway, Ned noticed Peter's phone on the ground. After a moment to wrack his worried mind, he remembered Peter's PIN to unlock it, and scrolled through his contacts until he saw "TONY FREAKIN' STARK!" and pressed "call."

His breath hitched when he heard the voice on the other end. "What's up, Pete?"

After a split second of nerves, Ned spewed out everything in one breath. "M-Mr. Stark, it's Ned, Peter's friend! I think you need to get down here, Peter's completely freaking out and I don't know what to do, and I know you're really busy, but I think he needs your help, and-"

"Whoa, slow down, Ned! What's going on? Is Peter okay?" Tony was already searching for his keys, but then stopped, his eyes falling on his arc reactor. "How fast do I need to get down there? Car or suit?"

"I-I don't know…he's…he's in the bathroom…he's cutting himself…"

Tony's whole world screeched to a halt. "He's WHAT?'

Ned felt his breath hitch again. "He's…got like a shaving razor, and he's hurting himself! I don't know what to do!"

Tony reached to activate the nanobots in the reactor before reconsidering. The chaos of Iron Man appearing was probably not something Peter needed right now. He grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator. "Okay, I'm on my way! Try to keep anyone from going into the bathroom and try to make him put the razor down! Call me back if anything worsens!" He up and began to sprint to his car.

Ned stared at the phone in his hand before opening the bathroom door again. "Peter? Mr. Stark is on his way…" Peter sat on the floor of the bathroom, too numb to even reply, save for a brief nod. "He…wants you to put the razor down…can…you do that for him…for us?"

Peter didn't even move. He just sat there, staring at the razor. His mind assaulted him once again with those images, while he heard echoes of different voices from that awful day, over and over.

"…I'll see you tonight, sweetheart!"

"…will Mr. Peter Parker please report to the office?"

"…there's nothing we can do, Mr. Parker…"

"…she has Tony Stark listed as the contact?"

"…hey kid, let's get you home, huh?"

"Peter…"

It took him a moment to realize that this wasn't the echoes that spoke his name, it was Tony in that moment, standing in front of him. Neither of them moved for a moment that seemed to drag on forever.

Tony's eyes shifted from Peter's horrified expression, to the bloody razor on the floor, to the dark spot on Peter's sweatshirt sleeve. A part of him had hoped Ned was wrong, that Peter, that his Peter would not be doing this. He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he took it all in.

Peter was frozen in the mortification of being caught twice in the span of about half an hour. His mind raced again, trying to figure out what to say. How do you explain away something like this? He opened his mouth, willing some words to come out. But instead, the tears welled back up as he looked at his guardian, and this time they spilled over.

Feeling his heart shatter, Tony dove to the floor and threw his arms around the teenager. Peter scrambled into his lap, clutching onto him. He didn't say a word in protest when Tony picked up the razor and shoved it in his pocket to get it out of sight.

All the pain of the past few months came out in body-wracking sobs. The only things the teenager could register was the feeling of comforting arms around him. It reminded him so much of childhood, of his loving aunt and uncle, who'd held him several times after nightmares, skinned knees, or bad days.

"Let it all out, kiddo…it's okay…"

Aunt May and Uncle Ben had never been "mom and dad," but they had been just like parents. With their memory in mind and the comfort of the adult currently holding him, maybe that's why Peter found himself suddenly blubbering, "…D-d-ad, I mi-ss h-her s-s-so m-m-uch!"

In his grief, Peter didn't even realize what he'd said, but the billionaire felt his blood run cold. Did he just say what he thought he did?

Not important right now! Focus!

He forced the thought to the back of his mind for the moment; he could worry about that later. Right now, Peter needed his reassurance.

"I know you do, bud. And that's okay."

His gentle voice brought Peter back to that day. More specifically the moment he found out he was going home with his mentor. His tone was as gentle and caring as it was that day.

"…hey kid, let's get you home, huh?"

The teen said nothing more, just clung to the man and cried. Tony held him tightly, stroking his hair. Once Peter's sobs had quieted down, Tony helped him stand up, placing an arm around his shoulders and leading him to the door.

Ned had been standing by, peeking in now and then at the tender scene. Once the pair came out, Ned handed Peter's phone to Tony. "His backpack is still in the classroom…"

Pocketing the phone, Tony asked, "You mind hanging onto that for him? I can send someone to pick it up later." Ned nodded.

"Ned, I'm so sorry…" Peter began. His friend clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled slightly at him.

"Don't worry. Just promise me you'll give me a call when you're feeling better, okay?"

He nodded before letting Tony lead him to the main office.

The drive was silent, save for the AC/DC album on low volume. As Peter stared out the window, nervously fiddling with his jacket sleeve, he couldn't decide if he was more embarrassed or relieved. Deep down, he knew Tony would find out eventually, but he would've liked a less dramatic way.

"Penny for your thoughts, Underoos?" Tony asked, breaking the silence.

Peter looked over at him and smiled slightly, "You're a billionaire. You can give more than a penny, ya know!"

Tony smiled in return. There was the smart-ass Peter he knew! "Okay, fine…a nickel for your thoughts?" This got a slight laugh from Peter before he was quiet for another moment, contemplating how to answer. "Come on, kid, spill it!"

"I'm just…I was afraid that you would think I was weak to not have moved on by now…"

Tony was shocked. "After three months? Are you kidding?"

"I know, I know, I should be over her death by now, but…"

"You don't think I still miss people I've lost long ago?" He took a shaky breath before continuing. "You don't think I still miss my parents, after all these years?"

For a moment Peter was speechless.

"I…I…I thought since you and Ms. Potts had done so much for me, it wouldn't be…be right to still be upset…"

Tony pulled the car onto the side of the road with a sudden movement. Throwing it into park, he turned to look at the teen. "Kid…what have Pepper and I been telling you this whole time? We know you're going to be feeling sad over this." He reached out and took Peter's hand. "We want you to talk about how you feel with us! Or if you'd prefer to talk to someone else, we could always get you a therapist or something! Anything but this…" He gestured to Peter's wrist, and the teen immediately pulled out of his grasp. "That's not going to do any good but make you feel more miserable!" Peter tore his gaze away and stared at the mat under his feet, face scrunched to keep tears from falling again. Tony felt his stomach drop. Oh god, he just made it worse, didn't he? "Look, I'm not the best at this stuff, but…I guess I'm just trying to say that it's okay to feel this way. I know how shit like this feels…more than you realize…and it sucks. But it's not okay to keep it inside or take it out on yourself."

At his own words, memories of Rhodey pealing him off the floor on nights he got too drunk to stand up flashed through his mind. He remembered the night he woke up in the hospital, bloody bandages on his own wrists He heard echoes of an exasperated Pepper scolding him, giving him ultimatums to quit drinking or she'd leave.

Peter still didn't look up, allowing Tony's words to sink in. Of course, he knew how it felt to lose people! How stupid could he have been to forget that?

"Hey! Quit calling yourself 'stupid'!" Peter's face went red, realizing he'd said his thought out loud.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark…"

Tony smiled, placing a gentle hand on his back.

Damn…are we back to "Mr. Stark?" All well, baby steps, I guess.

He put the car in gear and merged back onto the road. "You have nothing to apologize for, Pete."

After that, they were silent once more. Peter mulled over what his guardian had said. Glancing down at Tony's pants pocket where he'd stuck the razor, a sudden urge to be rid of the instrument of pain hit.

And he knew just how to do it.

"Mr. Stark? Can we make a quick detour?"

"Tony. Please call me Tony." Or Dad. "And yeah, where do you want to go?"

The cemetery stretched on and on. Peter and Tony walked through the endless headstones silently, until the one they were looking for came into view.

The sight of it was like a kick in the stomach. Neither of them had seen it since the funeral; a large family headstone with the name "PARKER" engraved on it.

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out the bloodstained razor. As Peter took it, he studied it for a moment. This little blade had done so much damage, not only physically, but mentally. How could a small piece of metal do so much?

Well, maybe not by itself…

Suddenly feeling sick by looking at the razor and the pain it held, Peter walked to the headstone on increasingly shaky legs and dropped to his knees. His hands shaking, he placed it down in the dirt in front of the stone, his tear-filled eyes looking at the four names it bore:

Richard. Mary. Benjamin.

May.

He sat in the dirt for what felt like hours, silently speaking to his parents and aunt and uncle.

"I'm sorry…but it hurt too much…"

Suddenly, he felt a gentle weight on his shoulder. Peter shut his eyes and smiled, knowing it was their presence behind him, Aunt May lovingly placing her hand on his shoulder like she had done so many times over the course of his life. The wind blew gently in his face. In that moment, he swore he heard all four of their voices

"…we understand, son. All is forgiven…" whispered his father.

"…it's going to be okay. You'll be okay…" his mother added.

His eyes still shut, Peter could feel tears welling under his eyelids. The fact that he still could clearly hear their voices after so many years was enough to make his heart leap with joy.

Uncle Ben spoke next, his voice louder and closer, "…please don't linger in sadness, Peter…we'll be right here for you when it's your time…but live your life first!"

His aunt's voice was then right in his ear. "…go on, now, sweetheart. You have family waiting right behind you…"

At her words, Peter's eyes opened. He glanced behind him, but the only person there was Tony, patiently waiting a few feet away.

Tears again dripped from his eyes. Yeah, there certainly was family right behind him…and at the Avengers' compound as well…and two dear friends he'd have to call later to reassure he was okay.

Peter kissed his palm and placed it on the stone before standing and walking back to Tony, who pulled him in for a hug immediately. There was a warm feeling in his chest as they walked back to their car, the feeling of his life taking a turn for the better. He glanced up at Tony, who smiled at him and put his arm around his shoulders. They were going home.

To their home.

Tony could feel Peter's lighter mood. He knew they'd get through this together. Still, he made a mental note to discuss the idea of therapy further someday soon. He knew he couldn't solve everything for Peter by himself, but he would do whatever he could to get Peter help. That's what family was for.

And after all, he was now a dad, wasn't he?

End!

I came across this song, and remembered how it helped me through the worst of my self-harm issues when I was younger.

If you or someone in your life struggles with self-harm, don't hesitate to reach out for help, no matter what your reason(s) for doing so! You are worth the help, the care of others, and recovery!

I'm almost 7 years clean; recovery is possible!

I do hope you enjoyed this story!