I don’t - I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t - I don’t want to go! Please, Mr. Stark, please. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go!
I’m sorry.
Tony woke up gasping, kicking the sheets off of his legs and sitting straight up in bed. You were wide awake not even a second later, rolling over and throwing your arm around his waist, holding him still.
“Hey, hey,” you whispered. “Hey. It’s okay, you’re here. With me.”
His eyes were wide and his breathing was out of control. He rubbed his face and fell back against the bed.
“Was it about him again?” you asked, meaning Peter.
He nodded. He let his eyes close. He tried to focus you, your closeness, your warmth, the weight of your body against the bed, the way you dipped into the mattress, the way you leaned slightly into his body. He focused on you and only you.
“Honey,” you sighed, heart hurting.
You laid your head down on his chest and listened to his fast heartbeat. The sound of the air conditioning running calmed you, but it didn’t calm Tony.
“It’s okay,” you breathed.
“It’s not,” he insisted.
“Tony...”
“I should have died,” he said. “It was supposed to be me.”
You hushed him, touching a hand to his face. “We will make it okay.”
He inhaled softly. Exhaled. Inhaled.
You moved your hand from his face. Tilting your head up to look at him, you touched your lips to his cheek. He looked down at you and half smiled, running a hand down your back. You curled up against him the way that comforted him the most.
hey apparently it is spider-man day!!!! i was watching friends last night at four a.m. and thought of this. also, this is dedicated to @melonpanbread who put me in her fanfiction, giving me a midtown sweater and an opportunity to live in the same universe as peter parker and my fav, ned leeds <3
this gif is not really related to the story but it is nice to look at
It wasn’t fair to Peter to do this. But then again, you didn’t really think it was fair of him to send you the wedding invitation in the first place.
With nothing but a carry-on in your hands, you left the small apartment you lived in and headed to the airport. Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest and your palms were clammy with anticipation. You had never done this before - actually, you’d never known of anybody that had actually crashed a wedding, aside from a character in a sitcom.
It isn’t really crashing the wedding if you were invited, you reminded yourself.
Why would Peter invite you, anyway? You had convinced yourself that he either hated you or stopped caring about you.
You deserved this, you guessed.
Five years ago, you stood in front of an open hole in the ground. The wind was breezy and your skin was covered in goosebumps, and you weren’t sure if it was the weather or the fact that you were staring down at a coffin that was far below you now.
You felt his chilled hands touch your bare shoulders. A second later, his jacket replaced the icy touch of his skin. You felt him step next to you in the old, nice suit that probably belonged to his uncle. He touched a hand to your hip and pulled you close against him, kissing your hair.
“Are you ready to go?” he mumbled against your hair.
You didn’t answer. You kept staring at the sleek casket covered in handfuls of dirt and scattered roses, picturing your father inside of it. Your father, who died protecting the world that never loved him the way they should have.
“I think Happy has the car running,” he added.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away. “What am I going to do without him?”
Peter inhaled deeply. “I don’t know. But you’ll be okay. I’ll do whatever I can.”
You shook your head, your face lowering to the ground. In your hands was a rose from your dad’s casket. You turned it over in your hands, observing the red petals. It made you sick, thinking about his body in there. You were sobbing uncontrollably for the first time since it happened right in front of you.
“Babe,” Peter whimpered, both hands on your waist now. “C’mon, let’s just go home. You’ll feel better there.”
“How could I feel better?” you asked, stepping out of his hands. “My dad is dead, Peter.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said tiredly. “I just want you to get some sleep. I’ll stay with you until you don’t need me anymore.”
“Peter,” you whispered, shaking your head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know how to help you.”
You crossed your arms and looked up at the sky, blinking away your tears. You shook your head. It was there, in that split moment, as you gazed up at the blue sky full of fluffy clouds, that you made your decision. You were in no place to have a relationship, even with somebody that you knew was the love of your life.
You ran inside of the church. The wedding was in a beautiful part of California that you had never been to before. There were large floral bouquets spilling out of every window, every door, every archway. It didn’t look like something MJ would decorate herself, or even allow in her wedding, but it was hers. The sign was propped up by the entrance.
Peter Benjamin Parker
and
Mary Jane Watson
You didn’t bring a gift, so you skipped the present table and went inside of the church. Everyone was seated already, and you grabbed a bench in the back. You saw Liz and even your dad’s old friends, like Wanda and Natasha, and you saw Happy, but you were too ashamed to go near them. When your dad died, you left everything behind. And everyone.
Peter walked in and down the aisle. It was the first time you’d seen him since a week after the funeral. Your heart went up into your throat and stuck there. You felt like you were choking and began to fidget, stretching your neck as you allowed your eyes to follow him.
He was dressed in a nice tux. His hair was shorter, and it was styled nicely. He had more muscles that you could see even under the suit. You hated seeing him like this. Five years ago, when you imagined Peter getting married, he was marrying you.
Peter smiled proudly up there, waiting for his bride. His eyes scanned the crowd. Ned stood at his side as his best man. They whispered and laughed at what they were each saying, and you scooted forward in your bench, fingers pulling at the hem of your dress.
In your head, you rehearsed everything you’d wanted to say for five years now. You’d written it on letters, you’d said it out loud in the middle of your apartment, you’d typed it out into a text message. But you’d never said it to him before.
Peter, I know I hurt you. My grief was no excuse for leaving you the way I did. I was in such a horrible place, losing my dad. I thought I had no room for you. I was wrong. I did. I do. You’re still the love of my life, and all I want to do is see you happy. I wonder if you’d still be happy with me, or if you’re fine without me. I guess it doesn’t matter which one it is, because the fact is that you aren’t with me. I’m not with you. And that is my fault. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry.
As if he could read your thoughts, his eyes shifted to you. And his expression changed from shock to pain. His lips curled downwards and then parted, and you sat back in your chair, not looking away from him.
He looked as if he was wondering if you were going to do something. You wondered the same.
You could get up and run to him.
You could risk everything and kiss him.
You could ruin the entire day for him and Mary Jane.
You could tell Peter that you loved him, and he could love you back still.
You could do all of these things, but you didn’t want to hurt Peter anymore than you had already.
So you got up, and mouthed, I’m sorry. And then you turned and walked out of the church without looking back.
The moment your feet hit the sidewalk, you heard the music begin, loud and clear. You paused, shutting your eyes. You wanted to block out the hurt, the regret, all of it.
You wanted to block out the thought of her in that wedding dress, the white veil against her beautiful hair, the ring on her finger that Peter placed, the love in their eyes as they recited their vows to one another. They would promise themselves to each other for the rest of their eternity.
In your head, you imagined him running out of the church. He would grab your arms and turn you around, then you would tell him everything you had rehearsed again and again. He would forgive you, fall in love with you again, and everything would be okay. Everything would be normal.
You imagined all of this happening as you blamed yourself for the situation you were in. He would have never married her if you hadn’t disappeared. It was your fault, you knew that. It was your fault he was marrying her.
do you ever realize how, at any given time, everyone you care about most now could find someone they care about more than you and leave you forever so you just sit down and cry? bc yeah that's me
anyway knowing that tom holland, jacob batalon, tony revolori, and zendaya are all together again to work on spider-man: far from home is the most amazing feeling. i am so happy. y'all don't understand how much those stupid midtown kids mean to me.
how badly can infinity war scar a child? my eleven year old sister got invited to go see it with her best friend and immediately started crying. i thought she was happy because we are never invited to things, but then she started to panic. we had seen infinity war the weekend it came out, and she said, "It wasn't as bad the second time you saw it, was it? Was it as sad? Was it as scary?". infinity war does scar children, my friends.
