Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at ya
It's only this moment, don't care what comes after
Your fever dream, can't you see it getting closer
Just surrender 'cause you feel the feeling taking over
It's fire, it's freedom, it's flooding open
It's a preacher in the pulpit and you'll find devotion
There's something breaking at the brick of every wall, it's holding
All that you know
So tell me do you wanna go?

It hurts. Every fricking day it hurts. Whether it’s the pain from his binder, or the mental pain of Flash and his cronies insulting him or the physical pain from when they hit him, he’s in pain. And he’s tired of it.

Today has been really rough. Even his patrolling was pretty bad. He wanted all the pain to go away. To feel numb. Like a regular person, without anything dragging them down.

You don't have to be so cautious
If you practice what you preach
Counting up the stacks on the counter
A fucking (disease)
But don't ask me to be righteous
If you practice what you teach
Counting all your blessings
The second you're down on your knees

So why, why?
Don't we get a little high, high?

He’s tired of putting on fake smiles, reassuring everyone that’s he okay. But he’s not. He’s depressed. He didn’t tell anyone and he’s done his best to keep it this way. He doesn’t need anyone’s concern about his well being. Everyone has their own priorities. Even his own Dad. He knew his father cared, but this was something he wanted to do on his own. But he couldn’t do it. He was sinking and he can’t get back up.

Another night, another party, sayin' hi to everybody
I’m sorry, it's time to leave, I gotta leave now
Got somewhere I gotta be now, I'm starving
Can somebody walk me to my car?
If I go alone, I'm not gon’ make it very far
I'm happy for the love and all of the above
If I'm being honest, I done been through way too much

I can't fake another smile
I can't fake like I'm alright
Ooh, ah (Ooh, ah)
And I won't say I'm feeling fine
After what I been through, I can’t lie
Ooh, ah (Ooh, ah)

An idea blossomed into Peter’s head. His father had always drank to make the feelings go away? He went excessive but a little bit wouldn’t hurt, right? It was to calm the storms inside of him. Make the pain go away. To feel empty, painless, it was a dream that would never come true.

He found the cabinet where his father had hidden the alcohol whenever he felt low. It felt wrong, so indescribably wrong but this could fix him. He opened the cap, exhaled and took a swing. The effect was instantaneous. He could feel it buzzing through his system and slowly couldn’t feel the pain anymore. Or so he thought. After all, pain demands to be felt.

So why, why?
Don't we get a little high, high?

Don't we get a little
Get a little

Peter took more swings, unaware that he had finished the bottle. Everything felt fuzzy, but he couldn’t tell anything apart. His mind was blank, numb, it felt so good. But a part of him felt so wrong. It wasn’t fair. Why was doing the wrong thing the only thing that could make him feel better?

So why, why?
Don't we get a little high, high?

He continued to drink until he couldn’t stand. He tripped over his feet, lying down on the sofa. He felt numb, but then the pain rolled back in. Ah, being drunk. Peter cried and sobbed and sobbed until his heart only knew two words: pain and numb.

And that was how Tony found his son, with a bottle in his hand, sobbing his poor heart out. At first Tony was upset, but why would Peter do it. Something’s bothering him, and Tony’s been too blind, too deep thinking that kids told their parents everything. Clearly not. Cause his son found refuge in alcohol.

Tony whispered gently, “Pete? Honey? Do you want to put the bottle down? Please?” He didn’t want to sound harsh, he knew from his own experiences that by sounding harsh he would only make things worse. Peter looked conflicted, his mind wanted to keep the bottle but his heart wanted to give his father the bottle. He couldn’t decide. He let out a shaky whisper, “I, I don’t know?” He broke down in another fit of sobs. He collapsed and Tony caught him like he always does.  He clutched his aching son close and tight, “Buddy, what’s wrong?” Peter whimpered, “Everything. It hurts so much.” Tony spoke softly, lightly rocking Peter to ease his nerves, “What hurts Pete? I just want to help.”

I read the things they write about me
Hear what they’re sayin' on the TV, it’s crazy
It's gettin' hard for them to shock me
But every now and then, it's shocking, don’t blame me
I know it's the life that I chose
But baby, I'm grateful, I want you to know
I'm happy for the love and all of the above
If I'm being honest, I done been through way too much

Fuck a fake smile, smile
Fuck a fake smile, fake smile

Peter whispered, “I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay. I’m tired of acting fine, but I’m not. The kids at school, they’re so mean. They keep making fun of me, hitting me and it hurts so much. So much. I don’t like it. I want it to stop. But I can’t make it go away. I need help Dad.” His voice trembled as the effects of alcohol left him. Tony closed his eyes, his own tears dribbling down his face. His son was hurt and he didn’t notice. But better late than never. But earlier was preferred.

Tony spoke softly as he ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, smoothing out his persistent curls, “It’s alright bud, you’re gonna be alright. You, me, we’re all going to be alright okay? Just breathe for me alright? Let’s get you to bed, it’s way past your bedtime.”

Tony scooped up the crying boy, carrying the weight to his room. He stopped by his closet to pull out his MIT sweatshirt, something that had always calmed Peter down and a pair of pajamas. There was something about clothing that was too big for him that Peter had liked. Cozy.

He let Peter change and then he tucked him into bed. He ran his hands through his curls, kept talking to him about how they were going to be alright, how proud of him he was. He wanted to figure out a way to help him, but the first thing Peter needed was rest. He spoke softly, "Hey bud, it's alright. We all hurt, in our own ways, even I hurt." Peter looked surprised, "You hurt too?" Tony nodded, "Yeah bud, it stinks but I hurt too. It hurts a lot at first, but over time  it gets better. I promise. But the first step to recovery? It's rest. So we gotta rest up alright?  If you need anything, anything at all, even a nightmare or you are hungry, just wake me up alright?" Peter nodded, closing his eyes to get ready to sleep.

“Goodnight Pete. I love you okay?

“‘Night Dad, love you too.”