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'Cya underoos, lab time on for next friday?'
Tony remembers what Peter said, the way his words tumbled out of his mouth with excited intent, how he grinned so largely and nodded so enthusiasticly that Tony thought his head would roll off his body.
And though Tony never told Peter, he loved lab Fridays. The highlight of his week, and oh boy was he looking forward to the next one.
But next Friday never came.
There was no lab time. No time at all actually.
Because fate is evil and the mind is an individuals biggest foe.
He recalls it with the same details an old wartime veteran would have when ptsd would flare up into perfectly recreated flashbacks.
The way he opened Peter's room, how he starred at all the posters and pictures that decorate the walls.
He searches for Peter, because he was supposed to be back from patrol. Actually, he was supposed to be back quite some time ago.
And when his dark coco eyes roamed over to the bed, when he spotted neatly sorted letters laying on a white pillowcase and messy thor themed blankets. He swore he felt his heart plummet down to his feet.
He doesn't remember how he got to the stack of letters so quickly, but he did.
He looked down at the letter stack, he saw all the names written with care. And with all the gentleness he has, he picked one up, the one with his name written in black.
And he knew, every atom and cell in his body new. New what sat in his hands, the absolute horrid reality it wrapped him and the universe at large in.
He didn't realise that he screamed, that he let out an inhumane wail of pure grief.
Because sitting in his hands was a suicide note.
Peter parker, spidey, spider-kid, spider-man. The youngest hero/vigilante New York has to offer. The boy who he saw as his son, the boy who he brought adoption papers for (those white blank papers collecting dust, waiting for a signature that would never come). The boy who lit the spark of hope in his heart after he was sure it would remain dull forever.
That sunshine, that happiness incarnated boy. Wrote him a suicide note. Wrote them all one.
What happened next feels like a distant memory.
The shouting and screaming, the tracking and the heavy grief the weighed everyone down.
The finding... the finding of the body corpse. Bloody dagger shoved to the hilt between torn apart red flesh.
The sight of tear tracks on a face to young to have eyes that hold nothing but death.
The cries of sorrow let out that night cannot ever be described to its fullest.
Not this kind of grief, the kind that stripped the land of sun and joy. The kind that tore down smiles and relished in teary goodbyes.
And that all happened days ago, yet it feels as if time is at a standstill. Like he is still stuck in that dark alleyway. Sitting on a pavement painted scarlet red as hero's and vigilantes alike break down right next to you.
And now, in current times. He has the letter in his hands. The piece of paper holding more weight then paper ever should.
Black ink writing that titled his name. Tony Stark.
He has been starring at it for days.
He isn't sure if he is ready, if he ever will be.
But... this is the last thing Peter left for him. A piece of paper filled with letters strung together like a melody of a song.
And tonight, that is what he does.
Peeling the paper open with the uttermost care. He gazed down at the words.
His body preparing tears for when they inevitably fall. Heart cracking already and waiting to shatter into pieces.
And with a heavy heart and glistening eyes.
He starts to read.
' Dear, Mr Tony Stark, Iorn man, dad.
If you have this, then I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I decided to leave you so soon, but it was for the best. I hope you know that.
And, Mr stark, I wanna say thank you.
You didn't have to take me in. You had no responsibility over me as spider-man or Peter parker but you did. You fed me, brought me stuff and helped me in so many other ways.
You cared for me though aunt may, through Ned and Mj. And because of you I stayed around longer.
But I have to say bye now, I got to go see them. My family. And by doing so I leave you behind.
So goodbye dad.
Thank you for caring for me when I was sure nobody else ever would. Thank you for being there and thank you for everything else you have ever done. Your amazing.
And if I was to ask you something one more time, please look after the next young hero that comes your way. Think of it as me returning to say hello.
Thank you dad, Thank you Tony, Thank you Mr stark.
I love you.
Goodbye,
Lots of love, Peter Parker: Hero and Vigilante
Tony let his head hang low as tears leaked from his eyes.
The letter was in his lap, paper white as a ghost with ink that stains that minds of readers forever, words that hold so much meaning.
Peter, he called him dad. And if that didn't send Tony into a swirl of tears and heartbreak then what else will.
He picked up the letter with more care then he has ever used on inventions and other meaningless things.
He pressed it against his chest, and let go.
A man that, to the rest of the world seems unbreakable. A man who hates emitting his emotions.
He breaks.
Soundless sobs of pure agony tore from his throat as he sinks to the ground. Heart beating wildly as tears painted hot marks down his face.
He gasps for air and folds in on himself as the grips of a panic attack close in on him.
And his mind haunts him, replying memories of him and Peter together. The good and the bad.
But what will haunt Tony forever is the powerful curse known as grief and guilt.
Because Peter got to say goodbye in the form of a letter.
Tony never will, he can only hope Peter knows how much he means to him.
"Goodbye bambio, I love you son"