Just the typical sad marvel thing /Peter

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Peter's pov:
I'm listening to music in my room when Bucky comes in again. "Kid. I'm asking again. Did you eat today?" Does he know? Shit, I have to say something. But he obviously knows I'm lying because he wouldn't ask otherwise. "Yes, I did," I lie anyway. "Hm okay..." he says, "then why did Nat tell me that you haven't been down just once, to say hi?" I don't reply, I just lower my head down. "Please, let me get you something here. You have to eat." I just sigh, knowing I must agree and then I'll have to throw up. "Fine," I say. A few minutes later he comes back with some fries and chicken on a plate. He gives me the plate so I have to eat. He stays there the entire time to make sure I'm eating it all. We talk a little while I'm eating so it's not even that bad. I don't even realize and I've eaten it all. Obviously, when I realize it's all gone, I start feeling guilty but it wasn't that big of a struggle to eat like this. "Thank you, Bucky, really," I smile at him and put the plate on my desk. "I'm glad you ate it. Also, I wanted to say-" Friday interrupts him whit saying, "Mr. Stark asks for everyone for an important meeting!" "We should go," I say while pulling a hoodie over my shirt. Before the meeting starts I excuse myself to the bathroom. I have to throw up now. If I don't then it'll make me fat because I won't be able to get it out later. So I really have to. I lean over the toilet and shut my eyes closed. I push down my finger on my throat. It just makes me gag but I don't throw up. It usually takes several tries to actually make myself sick but this time it took a really long time. I was crying by the end but I finally threw up with the help of my toothbrush.

Nat's pov:
"Sorry to cut in your word Tony, but Peter's been in the bathroom for a long time. Can I check on him?" "Yes sure," he says. I go down the hallway and find the bathroom he's in. I hear him cry. Oh no. And I hear something else too. Oh no... he's throwing up. Maybe he ate something bad. I don't knock I just go inside to help him. "Hey, Pete are you okay? Did you-" I see him kneeing on the ground but as I go closer I see a toothbrush in his hand and his panic and the tears on his face. He buries his face into his palms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't do anything, I'm sorry," he says between tears. "Hey, it's okay. Just give me the toothbrush and we can talk about it." He drops the toothbrush and I hug him. He cries for minutes before he can talk again. "Kid, were you using that toothbrush to... make yourself throw up?" "Nat... please don't tell anyone," he says while wiping his tears. "Pete, I... I think at least Mr. Stark or Bucky should know." "No, please, Nat." I sigh before saying, "I won't but just, if you promise me that you'll come to me when this happens." "I promise, I promise," he says. "Okay but I'll tell them if I find out you didn't come to me." He nods and hugs me.

I go back to the meeting and tell the others Peter got sick and he's not feeling well. Then the meeting continues and when we finish, Bucky pulls me to the side to talk to me. "What happened?" "I told you already he got sick," I say. I know he's gonna ask more about it and he knows I'm lying but I can't tell him. "No, seriously. You can tell me." "There's nothing to tell Bucky." "He made you promise right?" he asks. "Well not exactly but yes," I say while taking my way to my room, leaving Bucky there, now that he knows I'm not gonna tell him.

Peter's pov:
Why did I do this? Why? Why? Why? I'm so stupid. How could I let anyone see that? Now I ruined Nat's day. And she saw me cry. I'm such a disappointment really. I'm so angry at myself. Fat, I'm fat, fat, pig. Since everyone is on meeting I can go out easily. I go to town, determined to buy some blades. I don't know where Bucky put them so I go and buy more instead. I go to the closest gas station to see if I find anything there. Luckily, I found them at the corner of the store. I grabbed two boxes of blades and headed to pay immediately. I rushed back to the compound and locked myself in my room. I rolled up my left sleeve and looked at the pink, half-healed scars all over my arm. I haven't self-harmed since Bucky took my stuff. Okay maybe with my nails sometimes but it wasn't deep so it wouldn't stay there like the others. I already feel guilty about doing it again, but now the urge is so bad. I push the shiny, silver blade into my pale arm, I feel the sting as I drag it across my skin. A few seconds later, bright red blood fills up the cut and it pricks on the edges. I let out the air shakily, what I was holding in. I make more slices on my arm. Getting angrier at myself so they become deeper without me noticing. Tears gather in my eyes, I can't see now, it's all blurry because of the tears. And I cry uncontrollably, so I have to stop. I put the blades into the back of my bathroom cabinet, making sure this time no one will find it. Also I hide some, in random places, like on the back of my picture frame or in my phone case. Just in case someone finds the box of blades, I'll have a backup plan. Constantly wiping my eyes, I put a bunch of toilet paper on my arm to soak up the blood.