Make It Stop

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Trigger warning: suicide attempt, mentions of self-harm

Peter was ready to die. His suicide note was laid carefully on his desk, individual letters to his family that would hopefully lessen their guilt once he was gone were placed in his desk drawer, and he had a fool-proof death plan.

His dad was in the lab, most other avengers were either sleeping or about to fall asleep, and nobody knew he was awake. Unfortunately, nobody knew he was hurting or what he had planned. Nobody knew that the happy Peter they saw each and everyday wasn't so happy after all. 'Happy Peter' was a façade. Really, he was miserable and for no discernible reason other than his brain chemistry was off and he had been suffering from depression in silence. He had been fighting a war with his sick brain for too long and now he was surrendering.

Peter grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills he'd stolen from the MedBay weeks earlier and had been hidden in his closet. Then he grabbed the utility blade he kept under his mattress that he usually used for his self-mutilation habits. His plan was two-fold. If the pills didn't kill him, the blood loss would. See? Fool-proof.

He sat down on his floor, leaning against his bed with the pills and blade beside him. One last time, he wanted to check his phone. Subconsciously, it was his last shred of self-preservation looking for a reason to stay. Consciously, he just felt like giving it one last look.

And when he turned on the device, he saw a message from his dad. He opened it and saw it was a screenshot of a meme with the caption, "this made me think of you, I thought you could use a laugh today. love you 3000 ❤️."

And Peter broke, sobbing harder than he ever had before. He couldn't do it, he couldn't hurt his dad, he couldn't kill himself. Part of him still wanted to, but the other part of his brain screamed to get help, don't go through with the plan.

He continued to sob as his mind battled itself, torn between killing himself and staying alive, at the very least to not hurt his dad. He gripped his hair and screamed, forgetting that his walls were not sound proof and his family could, and definitely would, hear him.

In an instant, a knock came from the other side of his door. "Peter, what's going on?" It was Steve. Fuck, he didn't want anyone to see him, to see how not okay he was. He didn't answer, he just continued to cry louder, sounds of agony leaving his mouth.

"Pete, please open the door." Bruce begged, sounding more concerned than ever before. Bruce loved the kid, and he was scared about what might be going on behind the closed door, even though deep down, he knew. He'd been where Peter was before and, in his gut, he knew what was going on.

"FRIDAY, unlock the door." Clint tried. Unfortunately, Peter had disabled FRIDAY from his room. The door remained shut and FRIDAY didn't respond.

"Natasha is getting your dad, Peter. Please, just hold on." Thor spoke, the Asgardian holding back tears of his own when another agonizing scream came from the room.

Tony and Natasha came running through the hall, Tony demanding FRIDAY to reengage in Peter's room as he ran. The AI did as was instructed by the man in charge and the door unlocked.

Tony entered the room and he felt his heart break into millions of pieces. His son was on the floor, pulling his hair out as he screamed and cried with a blade and a bottle of pills right beside him. His own son was about to kill himself in a tower full of people who wanted to help him more than anything.

"Peter, please." Tony's voice broke and he kneeled in front of his kid, tossing the blade and pills towards the doorway and away from Peter. "I love you, buddy. Please don't hurt yourself. Don't kill yourself."

Clint picked up the blade and pills that were tossed towards the group and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to cry. But he cried anyway. All of the avengers standing in the doorway did. Bruce carefully took the items from Clint's hands and walked away with them, going to put them somewhere safe and away from Peter.

Peter looked at his dad with tear-filled eyes. "Then make it stop. Make my brain stop!"

"Make your brain stop what?" Tony asked softly, sitting down in front of Peter with his legs criss-crossed.

"It's like a war zone! Part of it wants to die and part of it wants to live and I don't know what to do!" He screamed, continuing to pull on his hair.

Tony leaned forward and carefully removed his son's hands from his head. "I can help. You know I can, it's all I want do to. Please, let me help you."

"Then help!" Peter sobbed as he threw himself into his dad's arms, being held tight the second he did. "Please just help me."

"I'm going to help you, honey. I'm going to get you all the help you need. You're my baby boy, I can't lose you. You're the only thing in the world that's worth anything to me, you know that? You have a purpose in this world. I know you're hurting right now, but it's going to be okay. It's going to get better. I'm going to help you, I promise." Tony spoke as he held his bawling son tighter in his arms than ever before, tears rolling down his face and landing on Peter's shirt.

Tony looked up and saw Bruce kneeling beside him, behind Peter's back. He held up a sedative, questioning if he had permission to inject the medicine into Peter. And Tony nodded his approval, knowing that Peter needed rest and an escape from being awake at the moment. He needed to escape consciousness but not die.

Bruce injected the medicine into Peter from behind him and the boy quickly fell silent as he escaped consciousness.

"Let's take him to the MedBay. I have psychiatrists on stand-by. We're going to help him, Tony." Bruce spoke softly as he tears streamed down his face.

Tony nodded, standing up and carrying his son to the MedBay. As he laid him on the bed and watched him continue to sleep, he shook his head. How long did he not notice his son was in pain? He could've prevented this, all of it.

But, now he was going to fix him. He was going to take those broken pieces and put them back together. Whatever it took, Peter was going to be okay again.

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