"Get off!" He screamed, clawing at the black fibers of the suit. "Get off, get off, get off!" He tugged as hard as his hands could bear, ripped at the suit, pressed his motion release sensor, all for nothing. His suit was changing, he could feel it, feel it taking its own control, changing from a thing he wore to a living entity. As he ripped, he swore he could hear it scream.
The fibers tightened around him even more, as though trying to go through the fabric, trying to reach into his own skin. Why hadn't he listened? Why has he continued to wear the suit, when Karen, Tony and even Ned begged him not to?
"This stuff knows you, kid. Don't let it. Get rid of it all."
The inky black voice that seemed to rattle around his head suddenly reared its ugly head, speaking so clearly and so loud that it nearly knocked Peter to the ground. You think you can free yourself from me? It shouted harshly, Peter's hand flying up to grip his head from the pain it caused. I am a part of you!
Now it was Peter's turn to scream, his voice a mixture of broken sobs, terror and anger. He had allowed this to happen, no one else, just him. As he felt his emotions rise once again, he gripped at the suit, pulling harder than before. Red and blue, not black. I am Spider-Man. Red and blue come on- NO! The venomous voice overtook his thoughts, screeching it's distaste. The surprise knocked him backwards, his body slamming into the large bell at the center of the cathedral.
For an instant, as the sound filled the chamber, his mind was clear. For an instant, he felt like he could breathe again, like there was nothing in the world that could weigh him down. For the first time in too long, he felt like Peter Parker.
~~
Descent into darkness is a funny thing. You never know you're slipping into it until it's almost too late to surface for air. You never know it's there until one day you wake up, and find yourself trapped in it's inky black depths, it's tentacles wrapping around you, blinding you until it's almost inescapable.
It started for him when he returned home. He wasn't sure how life was supposed to just return to normal, wasn't sure how he was simply expected to go about his daily life, go to school, take tests, look at colleges, when only a few weeks ago he'd died. He could still see it, still see the look in Tony Stark's eyes as he vanished into nothing.
He tried throwing himself into being himself, tried building computers, going to Decathlon practice, even returning to his duties as Spider-Man. He thwarted criminals, helped those who needed him, felt as though this was going to be the best way to return to normal. Once or twice, it even did feel normal and good to be flying through the air again. But it all seemed different, it all seemed so trivial in the scheme of things.
He knew there was going to be a time to return to normal, but he didn't plan on it taking so long, and ever so slowly he felt himself slipping away, slipping into his anxiety, into his doubts about himself.
And now, as he was walking through the Avenger's facility, suit clutched in his hands fresh from a battle he still didn't know what to make of, he was struck by a thought. What good does any of this do if he just comes back again?
"Hey, kid, you alright?"
Peter whipped his head up, meeting the eyes of his mentor. His hands tightened around the suit fabric in his hands, and he blinked rapidly, realizing he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. His feet had gone on auto-pilot, taking him to Tony's workshop much faster than he'd intended. His mind was still full of bright oranges and dust, he could still feel his body tingling slightly, feeling so similar to the way it had all those weeks ago on Titian. "H-huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Mr. Stark."
