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Peter was fine. He was absolutely, certainly fine.
Except he wasn't.
Having the suit taken from him after he disappointed Mr Stark (again) felt like his insides were being turned outside.
Before he became Spiderman, he would use cutting as a way to deal with his grief, his discontentment with himself. But then he had a chance to be something more than just himself, more than lousy, pathetic, miserable Peter Parker.
And he was happy. So what if he had put himself in unnecessary danger just to feel his shoulder bump painfully against the brick wall, or to get a kick to the ribs that he would be feeling for the next few days?
It was all fine.
And then he had the chance to prove himself. Peter knew Mr Stark only saw him as a kid, so maybe, just maybe, if he could do something more worthwhile than getting churros handed to him, and prove to Mr Stark that he wasn't just some stupid kid who had an obsession with doing dumb shit.
Screw him for wanting to prove himself to the one person he looks up to more than anyone else in this world, especially after his failure at the airport.
So yeah, the cutting came back full force after everything he had done did nothing but make his idol more disappointed in him.
And it continued even after he got the suit back, because despite getting his suit back and a pat on the back from Mr Stark, he still felt like a pile of trash.
Because Mr Stark had stopped calling him over to the compound to work on the suit. Happy had stopped picking up his calls or replying to his texts, not that he did it much before anyway, but a complete lack of communication hadn't happened before.
It all sucked.
Peter felt his stomach growl as he thought over how his life had taken a turn for the worse since the Toomes incident.
He knew that the food he ate was not enough for his fast metabolism, so he didn't have to put in any extra effort to starve himself.
He might think that if he told Mr Stark that he didn't have enough food to keep up with his metabolism, and that's why his wounds and bruises didn't heal properly, the older will remedy that problem immediately. But he wasn't so arrogant and self-centred to think that the biggest genius in the world would waste even a smidge of his time to make sure Peter was well fed.
As long as he wasn't putting himself in any immediate danger, that was enough for the older man.
Peter rolled over to stare at his phone, waiting for May to go to sleep so that he could go out for patrol. He needed to stop being Peter Parker and be Spiderman for a few hours.
Because without Spiderman, he was useless. He was a pile of garbage that was good for nothing except for making others worry and disappointed. Even when Mr Stark had confronted him after the boat incident, he'd only done it so that Peter getting hurt wouldn't be on his conscious.
Peter heaved a sigh of relief as he heard May turn in for the night, her breathing and heart rate slowing down to that of a sleeping person.
He jumped off his bed, slipped his suit on, and hissed as it brushed along the cut he'd made on his ribs. It was just one long, slightly deep cut so that if Mr Stark asked, because he knew the older man kept an eye on his vitals, Karen had told him so, he could say that he got the cut in a fight.
It was two days old, and it wasn't healing that well, but it'd stopped bleeding enough to not wear a bandage over it. It would be a nice, quiet patrol, and then he could come home and sleep.
Maybe. Sleep hasn't been settling well lately. He's had a lot of nightmares about being crushed under buildings. He'd been putting on a lot of concealer to hide his dark circles.
He was fine. Everything was fine. As long as he kept telling himself that, he would be okay.
Patrol seemed mostly peaceful, he stopped a bike robbery and stopped a cat from getting run over, but it was mostly calm aside from that. Until he saw a man getting attacked in an alley.
The three men and a woman were crowding him against the wall, talking about how they would show him a good time, and threatening to hurt him when he refused. Peter narrowed his eyes as he felt anger bubbling to the surface of his mind.
Without jumping down from where he was, Peter shot out his webs and trapped the buff looking guy against the wall, and leapt down into the alleyway, webbing the other three clowns to the walls as well before handing the guy, who looked only a year or two older than him, his belongings and attempting to give a soft smile through the mask.
"Get out of here, I'll deal with them. And be safe." The boy shakily nodded before thanking him and making a run for it.
Peter's spider-sense tingled as the woman, who had cut through the webbing with a pocket knife attacked him. He dodged her attack and twisted her arm, not enough to break, but enough to immobilise her.
Before he could web her against the wall, the buff guy, who apparently had a machete, ran at him to stab him, so he let go of the woman and jumped over the guys head while webbing the woman to the wall more firmly, something he'd stupidly neglected to do earlier.
Buff Guy kept on attacking him, not being able to get a single hit in, until Peter got lightheaded and froze for less than a second, which was all it took for his opponent to land a blow with the back of the machete onto his ribs, right over his still-healing injury, and it started gushing blood.
Peter felt the panic in him rising as Buff Guy went for his thigh right before he was going to jump, managing to slash both his thigh and calf.
He collapsed, and Buff Guy cut open his associates and they all made a run for it, while Peter lay bleeding in the alley, trying to think of a plan and focus beyond the pain he was feeling.
"I can feel intense blood loss from your wounds and your blood pressure is dropping rapidly, Peter. Do you want me to call Mr Stark?" Karen asked.
This jolted Peter right back to full attention.
"No! Whatever happens, do NOT call Mr Stark!" Peter said. Karen was quiet for a moment before she spoke again.
"Okay, Peter. I will not call Mr Stark." Something about how she said it felt off to Peter, almost like the AI was being smug, but he didn't have any time to dwell on it because he has to get up and off the ground.
It took around 10 minutes, but he got off the ground and was now leaning against the dumpster. He panted as he tried walking, succeeding to do so, but only for three steps before he felt himself collapsing.
Right before he could hit the ground, he heard a familiar mechanical whoosh before a metal gauntlet stabilised him.
"Easy there kiddo." Tony Stark's metallic voice came from inside the suit as he scooped up the bleeding teen as gently as he could and took to the air.
"Mr Stark..? How did you-?"
"Karen sent FRIDAY a distress signal because apparently, you had told her not to call me under any circumstances." So that's why the AI had sounded so smug.
"We're going to have a talk about that by the way." Tony added as an afterthought, concerned over the wellbeing of his totally-not-protegé. Some days it seemed like the kid had a damn death wish.
Tony hoped that that last thought was just him. The kid seemed confused.
"And you responded to it?" He asked in a tone that seemed almost hopeful in a way Tony could sense was morose, as if the kid couldn't believe it.
"Of course I responded kid. Karen wouldn't have sent a distress signal if you weren't in danger. Now keep quiet and focus your energy on staying awake. We'll be at the compound in a few minutes." Tony said.
He replied with a weak "Okay Mr Stark" before going quiet and focusing purely on not passing out.
As soon as he reached the compound, Peter blacked out. A small part of him hoped to never wake up.
---×---
Tony was sitting near the hospital bed in which Peter was, waiting for Vision to arrive and for FRIDAY to tell him the status of Peter's injuries.
When he did finally get some news, Tony was beyond concerned, he was fearful.
Consciousness came to Peter in the form of a splitting headache. He blinked his eyes open against the harsh light of what seemed to be the medical room in the compound.
"Glad to see you're up underoos." Mr Stark handed Peter a water bottle, which he drank gratefully.
"I didn't call your aunt, which you should be thankful for, and it's only 2 am so you should be able to get home in time." Tony said before Peter could ask the questions.
After a few more moments of tense silence, during which Mr Stark took Peter from the medical room to the living room near his workshop, Tony decided to speak.
"So, kid. Wanna explain the injury on your rib? Cause I saw the feed from the suit, and it wasn't from tonight." Tony started. Peter tensed in his seat as he answered.
"It's from a previous patrol. A group of guys were mugging a lady, I stopped them but got slashed." Peter explained sheepishly.
"Really? Then why was there no damage to the suit? Karen would've told me if there was." Tony said calmly, not accusing, not implying anything.
Peter looked like a deer caught in headlights, before he opened his mouth to say another excuse, but managed to come up with nothing.
"FRIDAY also noticed several scars, clean and in rows on your thighs and calves. So where'd you get them, kid?" Tony softened his tone of voice, being as gentle as he could.
Peter looked surprised, before scrambling for any excuse.
"I- uhm-" Tony could see Peter's breathing speed up, and he immediately shuffled towards the teen, putting a grounding hand on his shoulder as the younger seemed to curl up in a tiny ball, telling him to take deep breathes.
Soon enough, Peter had calmed down and cleared his throat, embarrassed at the meltdown he just had.
"You alright?" Tony asked, brow furrowed. Peter simply nodded.
"Alright then. I'm gonna ask you questions, and you just have to nod or shake your head. Deal?" Tony asked, to which Peter nodded his head.
"Let's start with the scars. Did you do them?" Tony asked, apprehensive of the answer. He inhaled sharply when Peter nodded.
"And the wound on your ribs? Was that you too?" Tony asked, his voice gentler than the man had ever heard it himself.
When Peter nodded again, looking at his lap in shame and humiliation, Tony gently grabbed his face and turned Peter to look at him.
"How long?" Tony inquired.
"It started when Ben died, then it stopped when I started being Spiderman, and then-" Tony nodded encouragingly for him to go on, despite the pang he felt, the kid was barely thirteen when his uncle died! "And then it started again when- after the ferry incident." Tony inhaled sharply, his heart cracking into several pieces for this kid that he had inevitably come to care about.
"Can I ask you why?" Tony inquired further, he had to know if he had done anything to cause this. Peter shuffled awkwardly before answering.
"Well, I knew I had disappointed you, and I thought I couldn't be Spiderman anymore, so I just felt like a useless sack of garbage. The kind you burn in a dumpster fire." Peter sniffled as Tony pulled him into a hug.
"Kid- Peter. I'm not disappointed in you. I never was. I was worried about your well-being because you kept putting yourself in danger and I'm sorry that it felt like I was disappointed in you." Tony reassured the now crying boy.
"Bu- but what about the not working on the suit anymore? And the radio silence from Happy?" Peter asked because he needed to know why.
"The workshop was being repaired cause I accidentally created a hole in it using one of my repulsors and I didn't want you here with all the construction work and- wait a minute, what do you mean "radio silence from Happy"?" Tony was confused.
"He hasn't answered my texts, or returned my calls, or communicated with me at all." Peter blinked up at the superhero, who frowned.
"Well I know I didn't tell him to ghost you. I'll talk to him about it later. He's supposed to be your point of contact." Tony murmured to himself.
"Why'd you tell Karen not to call me?" Tony asked one last question. Peter cleared his throat before looking down and answering.
"Thought you wouldn't care."
Tony sighed at the teen sitting in front of him, a plan rapidly forming.
"Okay. So. Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna come to the compound every alternate day, unless I tell you I'm busy. Okay?" Peter nodded, perking up.
"And you, young lad, are going to therapy. I have someone who I pay to keep her mouth shut, so don't worry about that. I know how much you care about your identity being kept a secret." Peter looked like he wanted to say something, but accepted that he wasn't getting out of this.
The fact that Tony Stark cared about him made him feel warm and fuzzy, it made him feel happy.
Peter Parker was gonna be just fine.