Spiderson and irondad oneshots

Let me go

Summary: after aunt mays death peter feels like a burden to everyone and resorts to his final option.

ENDGAME SPOILER,
SUICIDE MENTIONS, SELF HARM
~~~
Stars.

No matter what peter had always looked up to the stars in his time of need.

His uncle Ben told him once that when people died they turned into stars, and depending on what they were like in life their star would either be bright and large or small and faded.

He always believed that idea, considering that after Ben had died he remembered seeing a bright star, just through the curtains of his window, shinning down brightly on him.

Peter remembered that after Mr.stark died when wielding the six infinity stones, he sat on top of the tower and tried to find the largest and brightest star out there. Because if Mr.stark wasn't the brightest star out there, then peter wouldn't know what to do, because surely someone like mr.stark would be a bright star. He had saved the world after all.

He knows that exactly after the clock struck 1am he found him. The brightest star in the sky. The one that he would look up to whenever he felt down or in need of comfort, because he couldn't speak to the other avengers, they only kept him around because Mr.Stark dealt with him. But now because he wasn't here anymore peter didn't bother trying to talk to the others.
~
Peter had only met Morgan once, that was at the funeral. He remembered looking at her and seeing Tony.

She had his eyes and smile.

He couldn't bear to look at her, to feel the ache and pain in his chest, because every time he looked at her he was reminded of his dead ment- father.

He remembered the dull ache in his stomach getting larger as weeks and days rushed by. Slowly, the ache became numb and soon all he could feel was numb. He hadn't laughed genuinely in weeks and he only felt alive when he was bleeding. Soon he found himself purposely ignoring his spidey senses and letting himself get stabbed or hit when out on patrols or missions.

The others had noticed it too.

He enjoyed it though.

He felt alive when he was hurt.

There was no ache or pit. The numbness was gone, well not gone but it faded for a little while when he was hurt. He felt alive. Even if it was for a little while.
~
The blade.

Pain.

Numbness.

Help.

Please.

Someone.

Quiet.
~
The first time he picked up a razor or blade was when he couldn't bear to see his star in the sky anymore, or the picture of them that was now faced down on the side. When all he could do was sob and shake, or wake up in cold sweat after seeing him again on the battlefield during a nightmare or panic attack. They were common now for peter. May had noticed that after a while.

He doesn't remember going to the bathroom or opening the draw, feeling the cold slim blade between his fingers. He couldn't seem to grasp the idea that it wasn't his fault another father figure in his life was dead. However, he Does remember the blade pressing against his skin, a cold sting before he finally felt at ease, some sort of release.

It became a past time and surely enough scars were loitered on his forearms. He wore sweaters now. Big baggy MIT sweaters that mr.stark had given him when he stayed at the compound. The smell of motor oil and grease was no longer there but the scent always lingered no matter what.
~
May had died.