Parley Oneshots

Alive?

Request by SymphonicSynth 

So the beginning is pretty bad but the middle and end are emotional and painful :)

Also! Don't be mad at anyone for what happens in this oneshot, nobody did the right thing (at first at least) and there's a lot of emotion-fueled words exchanged. Just so you know! Peter and Harley (and the Avengers) made bad decisions, but this is angsty fanfiction and that's what we want soooooooo... yeah

Random fact: most of my writing of certain characters is just a projection of myself, and this is very concerning considering the shit I've written

TW: suicide, mention of mental disorders (depression, eating issues that go with it)

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.

3rd Person P.O.V.

Twelve months.

Fifty-two weeks.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

One year. Harley was going to leave him for an entire year. Peter hugged his knees, weeping silently. He was on month four. Four out of twelve. And already, he was at his ends.

He hadn't spoken to Harley much since he packed up and left. At first they were facetiming and texting constantly, but that died out pretty quickly. They hadn't held a real conversation since early September, and it was now January.

Peter had a pretty quick downfall, becoming mopey and depressed. He struggled with the simplest of tasks, like getting out of bed or eating enough. As time passed, and it got harder for him to live, he learned to ignore the stabbing hunger pains that plagued his every waking moment.

The Avengers didn't really notice, they just chalked Peter's strange behavior to his age. After all, none of them knew what raising a seventeen year old was supposed to be like. Teenagers are angsty, and that's all it was. "Brighten up," they told him. It was just some regular, average teenage angst, and nobody wanted to deal with that.

But to Peter? It was so much more than that. As he and Harley grew more distant, the remaining pieces of his will to live disintegrated. It went so far to the point where Peter found himself up on the rooftop, staring blankly down at the city streets below.

His mind was whirring, a thought crossing it that made him stop. It was situations like this that only Harley could fix. Ironic, wasn't it, that Harley was the reason Peter was up on the ledge on the first place?

He closed his eyes, letting the cold winter breeze brush against his malnourished, shivering body. It felt awful... but it wouldn't for much longer. Peter smiled, for the first time in a long time. Soon, nothing would feel bad ever again. He wouldn't have to deal with any of it, not with Harley, not with the Avengers, none of it. He would finally be free.

Taking a deep breath, Peter stepped off the edge. He didn't feel anything... was he dead? He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. He was... still on the rooftop? No, not quite...

"Peter." Was that... Harley's voice? Why did he sound so sad? Was Harley dead too? Peter looked toward the voice, feeling his heart drop at the sight of Harley holding onto him for dear life. No, Peter wasn't on the rooftop. He was dangling over a busy street, held up by Harley, who was crying and struggling to pull him back onto the roof.

"Peter, darlin', please!" The southern boy's voice sounded horribly broken, but Peter couldn't feel anything but numb with a twinge of anger. How dare Harley ruin this? He was finally going to be free...