Chapter 6 - If I Can Get My Shit Together

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Peter quickly changed out of his suit and into something he felt more comfortable in. He took time putting on his Pink Floyd shirt and silver jacket, valuing each second he laced up his boots, knowing it would be his last time doing this.

He picked up his Walkman, tears rolling down his face again. Peter was going to leave it behind. He was going to leave it for Y/n.

He wrote out a quick note. The note was his suicide note. 

Dear anybody who feels like they need to read this,

I'm sorry that you actually cared about me. I wish you would've told me while I was still here. I don't want to live anymore. My life is terrible, and nothing is making it better. It feels like a constant struggle to get by. Every day is full of suffering and pain, and I've given up. I can't do it anymore.

Erik, Dadneto, where do I start? I'm sorry I was such a shitty son, and a failure to you. I can't get it together. I know that you're disappointed to have me as a son. I know how you really feel, and now you don't have to be worried about having such a godawful son.

Charles, I'm sorry that I'm such a bad team member. I can't work with other people, and I'm too hyperactive for anyone. I can't complete a simple goddamn mission without tripping 50 alarms and stealing from everyone. I'm gonna miss you, bald guy.

Y/n, I love you. You're the person that I'm gonna miss the most. I just don't think you love me back, and I can't put up with it anymore. I love you, and it's never gonna be okay. I want you to have my Walkman though. We both know it meant a lot to me.

You can tell the students I ran away, or I quit. I don't wanna traumatize some poor kids, just so I can do this cowardly thing, because let's face it, I'm a coward. A filthy, disgusting coward. I run away from all my problems, and now I'm running away from life, because I can't put up with it like you all can.

~Peter Maximoff

Tears stained his letter, smudging a bit of the writing, but it was still legible. He set it neatly on his pillow, his Walkman right next to it, still ready to listen to the next Rush song, but it wouldn't be coming with him. He wanted to do this in silence, to feel it all as he fell to his death. As he fell to his relief.

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