Peter Stark was a complex human being. He was smart no doubt, always at the top of his classes that was something more than the genetics from his last name. The boy was funny with jokes that always got a laugh out of his dads and friends, and he was just as kind and compassionate as humorous. According to his father and the team that he was a part of, aka Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, he was just as stubborn as Captain America, and just as much of a good person who devoted his life to doing something good. 

But, despite all that goodness, Peter struggled. Everyone struggled in their own sense, and Peter Anthony Stark was no different, a victim in some form. Today, he was a prisoner of his mind, victim to anxiety. 

Sometimes, Peter would say, the worst place one can be is in their own mind. 

While Peter normally felt content at heart and soul and good about everything in his life, there were times when he felt like he was suffocating and drowning and the desperate freedom was too out of reach. 

Sometimes, Peter just felt things that he didn’t even know why. 

Today, he felt a strong sense of sadness that was more than his body could contain, leaving him sniffling as tears refused to not stream down his face and Peter couldn’t not think about why he was so sad when he had no reason to be so sad and the idea that he was stuck being so sad sent him toppling into another wave of fresh cries. 

The boy had no appetite, nor the energy to spend today doing tasks except for a really bad urge to read, something that was common during his anxiety instances. Except, the fifteen year old already read all the books that he had owned. And the fact that he was now left alone with his thoughts even more only made the chocolate-colored curly haired boy cry more. 

And it was him, red eyes puffy and leaky strewn across his bed buried under a heap of covers that his father Tony Stark walked into and immediately softened once his eyes fell on the sight that was his son. 

Heartstrings tugged, Tony walked over to his boy and put a hand over his cheek, “Awe, Petey, what’s wrong? FRIDAY said that you were crying, what's going on, bud?”

Out came the vulnerable and desperate plea for help from Peter’s rasp, “I don’t know! I just feel so sad and empty and I can’t stop thinking.” He flickered his almond-tainted irises toward his dad’s same colored ones, “Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts so much, dad, I can't!”

Tony moved a hand to card through his son’s curls, “You’re never alone, Pete, I’m always with you. I won’t ever leave you alone, I promise. I'm here, it's okay, you're going to be okay, Iron Man's going to make sure of that.” He lifted up his son’s covers and slid in, getting comfy as he pulled Peter into his arms. Once his boy was encased in his arms, Tony tucked Peter’s head under the crook of his neck. 

“What’s wrong?”, Tony asked softly as Peter started crying again, “Talk to me, honey. Why didn’t you come to me before?”

Peter swallowed thickly before replying, “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought maybe it would go away but I can’t, dad. It’s too much, it hurts and it just won’t stop.”

Tony shook his head as a worn smile overcame his features, “Kiddo, you’re never a bother, you know that. You’re my baby, my job is to protect you and keep you safe and happy whenever, wherever. Especially when you’re feeling like this. It’s okay to need help once in a while, bud, it’s normal.” The father offered, “Why don’t you tell me what hurts?”

Peter confided, “It hurts all over. I can’t stop crying, and I don’t know why I’m so sad.” He sniffled again as he buried his head closer against his father, desperately needing the loving touch from the person that he loved the most in all the entire galaxies and universes. 

Tony cupped Peter’s face as he pressed another kiss to the top of his son’s head, “That’s okay, why don’t we take a deep breath first, yeah?”

Peter took a deep breath, exhaling shakily as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Tony smiled, “That’s my boy, now tell me the first thing that comes to your head.”

Peter paused before answering, “There’s so much sadness. Just thinking about it makes more tears come out. I need to get out, but I can’t breathe nor reach.”

“That’s okay,” reassured Tony, “we can work something out. I’ve got you, we can get you back out. I assume you’re tired?”

Peter nodded quietly. 

Tony spoke as he ran a hand through Peter’s tresses, “That’s alright then, sweetheart, get some rest. Dad’s here.” He whispered soft soothes to reassure Peter's anxious mind that refused to stop tinkering. "You're okay, it's all okay, I promise. Breathe in and out, dad's here. Focus on my voice, alright? I love you so much, you have no idea, honey. Close your eyes, kiddo, dad's gonna keep you safe like he always does." 

Peter sniffled after a few minutes of silence, "Dad?" 

Tony looked down at the trembling bundle encased in his arms, "Yeah, bud?" 

Peter replied quietly, almost cracking the emptiness that resided within, "Is there something wrong with me?" 

Tony softened as he brushed the tresses of hair from his son's cream-colored, tear-littered face. "Baby," he said as he planted a kiss to Peter's cheek, "there's nothing wrong with you, bud. What you're going through is normal, sometimes our bodies just need a break from everything." 

"Even if," the father continued, "there was something behind this, it wouldn't mean that there's something wrong with you." He kissed the bridge of Peter's nose, "You're perfect just the way you are. I wouldn't change any part of you, even if the universe demanded me to." 

Peter wore a watery smile as he echoed softly, "Really?" He moved his hands to rub his eyes while stifling a yawn. 

Tony nodded solemnly as he promised, "Of course, Pete. I love you so much, you know that. You're my kiddo, I'm always going to love you." He pressed another loving kiss to Peter's forehead, "Now, let's get some rest, I'm right here." 

A/N: I wrote this a while back but I didn't feel like publishing it but um, yeah. This is sometimes what happens to me during anxiety and I needed to vent write and voila. I was a bit nervous publishing it because it would bring the memories back, but now I'm able to handle it a bit better.

How are you guys? I've been meh. I've been good, really, thankfully. But at the same time I've been having a slight conflict with myself. As a kid, I've always been underweight. I still am. It's something that I've accepted about myself, but in some aspect kinda not hated, but disliked myself. Not because of myself, but compared to the other girls in school I was just a stick. I still am. Over the years, thankfully, I've improved my eating habits but ever since quarantine it's been harder. Not at first, but little by little I've noticed myself eating less. Pre corona id eat three meals plus one or two snacks. I've stopped feeling hungry for snacks. But I've been going through some stuff mentally.

I get overwhelmed easily, and when my thoughts get all funky and bothered, I tend to eat less. And it happened a few weeks ago and no matter how hard I try I can't revert back to my eating habits. And everyone says that I'm just not trying enough or to get on with the program or stop bullshitting Sarah and it kinda hurts. I know what's happening to my body and I don't need someone to comment as I'm living through it and trying to do better.