Eleven minutes

6 minutes

Acceptance 

-Third Person P.O.V-

As the darkness of the sky grows, he seems to understand clearly, just what's happening. 

The hope that had been growing, the denial of everything that was happening. And the thoughts- the thoughts that he would be okay, and it's really not a big deal fell away with the diminishing light in the sky. 

He knew no one was coming. 

Even though his dad said he was on his way- even though he silently hoped that he would make in time. He knew it was unlikely. 

(There's nothing left)

The blood was rushing out of his body quicker and quicker, and Peter knew, even if Karen was compressing the wound, even if he was trying to keep pressure on the wound to stop- to stop the blood. It was no- it was no use. 

His eyes slip shut once more, and a small smile falls onto his face as he thinks about all the good times he had spent with his family. 

(This can't be goodbye)

Peter was five and he was with his dad in the lab, he bambi eyes were trailing along the room, looking at anything and everything. His eyes landed on the iron man suit and his eyes nearly fell from his head. 

Tony couldn't stop the smile that over took his face as he looked at his son, seeing the excitement on his face as he looked at the suit. 

"Daddy, look, Iron man," Peter bumbled, rushing up to the suit and tentatively touching it- well as tentative as a five year old can. 

Tony laughs silently while nodding and walking over to Peter while pulling him upwards to hold him close. 

"Yeah buddy, it's iron man." 

Peter remembers how excited he was as he looked at it, then his dad telling him that it was his suit, and he was Iron man. Knowing his dad- knowing his dad was a hero at that age made him feel like he was invincible because his dad- his dad would always be there to save him. 

Tears fell vengefully down his face, his brave mask falling away. He wanted his dad to come along right now, and just- just save him. Tell him that it was okay, and Peter would be okay. 

That he would- he would live. 

(I can't catch my breath anymore)

Peter was ten now, he had had a bad day at school and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry. He knew he should be stronger, I mean, Hell, his family were superheros. But he wasn't. 

And when Flash had hit him, and called him names, he couldn't pretend he was okay, because he wasn't a hero, and it hurt.  

"Petey, what's wrong?" Tony asks, hugging his son close to him as he sees the tears spill from his eyes. 

Peter sniffles sadly and clings onto his dad in the middle of the common room, yes, he wanted to go to bed, but right now, hugging his dad was a lot better. 

"Just- just a bad day," Peter whispers, not wanting to tell his dad the truth. 

Tony knows he's lying- of course he knows. But he doesn't push Peter, instead, he hugs him a little closer to him and tells him it'll be okay. And Peter clings onto the words, because why would his dad lie to him, he was a hero after all. 

A shaky hand comes upwards and he wipes the non-stop tears from his eyes, although there is already another batch on the way once he does so. He also knows he probably just wiped a lot of his blood over his face, yet, he can't seem to have the energy to care much. 

He just wants his dad to come and save him. 

But he knows he can't. 

Heroes can't save everyone. 

(You can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try.)