Someone just kill me my ghost will probably update better than I do (:

tw: self harm, suicidal thoughts/plan, depression, grief

summary: happy finds out peter's chosen coping method, but peter is still too terrified of losing someone else to let him help.

word count: 3165

It was too easy. The same emotions that drove Peter to hurt himself also made his accelerated healing that much more accelerated. Cuts were reduced to scratches within an hour and scars within a day. That motivated him to do it more, too. The scratches were much more easily explained than the scars were, and when scratches were there the ivory scars were largely unnoticeable.

Not that he didn't do everything within his power to keep anyone from seeing his arm. But if he slipped up, his powers gave him a very dangerous safety net.

He knew it was dangerous. He knew this wasn't a healthy way to deal with the pain he was in. He had to fight off the picture of Tony's disappointment... and May's panic... every single time he did it

He knew he had to stop.

But he couldn't. Some days... a lot of days... this was literally all he had to get him out of bed in the morning. And it was better than killing himself. He reminded himself of that over, and over, and over again.

And as long as they weren't still bleeding when he put the suit on, Karen didn't mention the injuries. More importantly, she didn't call Happy.

Happy knew something was wrong. He called often, asking repeatedly each time if he was truly positive that he was alright. But Peter swore he was, and Happy didn't want to push too hard. So, he got away with it.

So, he just kept doing it.

It kept him afloat, but barely. If there was one person he had to fool, it was May, so every effort he had inside of him was poured out with her. For the most part, it was successful. She knew he wasn't at his best, but he smiled and even laughed just for her, so she encouraged him to keep working through his grief and didn't worry too much. That was good. May worrying was exactly what he needed to avoid.

But when it came to everyone else, he knew he was barely holding his walls together.

He was sitting on his bedroom floor, working on a Lego set with Ned, when that reality hit him full in the face.

"Hey, Dude?" his best friend asked as he clicked another piece into place.

Peter glanced at him, a question on his face as to the sudden seriousness in his best friend's tone. "Yeah?"

Ned hesitated a moment, then pressed ahead, looking him in the face as he asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

It took everything inside of Peter just to control his face, much less to keep from bursting into tears then and there.

He swallowed them down hard before answering in a voice that came out just a little choked, "Yeah, man, I'm fine. Why?"

Ned shrugged a little, glancing down as he attached another section before looking back up at his friend. "I don't know. You just... are you sure?"

Peter focused back on their project in a last desperate effort to hide the water creeping out of the corners of his eyes. "Positive, Dude. Don't worry about me, alright?"

Ned sighed a little, his face saying he was still less than convinced. "Yeah, okay. I just... let me know if I can help."

Peter didn't trust himself to speak anymore, so he just nodded a little and kept building while he silently reeled.

Ned wasn't easily worried. Peter had only seen his best friend this deeply concerned a few times before. If Ned was worried, he was truly doing an absolutely horrible job. If Ned was worried, he was in trouble.

He quietly panicked the entire rest of their afternoon together, barely fighting off the pulse-racing anxiety building in his chest. Luckily, Ned's parents had dinner plans, so it was only a few hours later that he headed home.

The minute the door closed behind him, Peter felt the strength leave his legs. He sank to the floor right there, tears streaming down his face before he hit the ground.

Why was this so hard?

Why couldn't he just be enough?

Why did he have to feel like this?

Why did people have to care?

He didn't even really try to fight it anymore. His hand found his pocket and the razor found his arm.

Pain on his skin numbed the throbbing inside his chest, blood flowed and tears slowed.

Why did it have to work so well?

A knock sounded on the door.

Pure panic rose in Peter's throat and guided his hands as they shoved the bloody razor back into his pocket and yanked down his sleeve.

Who could possibly be there? May wasn't due back from work for another few hours. Besides, May wouldn't have knocked.

Maybe if he just pretended no one was home, whoever it was would go away.

They knocked again.

Peter's heart was beating in his ears.

He could feel blood soaking the sleeve of his hoodie. Thank God it was black.

A third knock on the door.

He had a very, very bad feeling about this.

"Peter?"

That panic dropped straight to his chest. No. Oh, God, please no.

"Hey, Kid, I know you're in there."

It was Happy. Why did it have to be Happy?

Knowing Tony's protocols, he probably did know he was in there. Tony probably tracked his phone.

It was a thought that had never occurred to him before, but come to think of it, that was most likely 100% accurate.

He was screwed. He was absolutely, completely screwed.

Against his own will, he got to his feet and stared at the door in front of him. He could do this. He'd be fine. He could do this.

He turned the lock, opened it, and painted a confused expression onto his face. "Happy?"

A little relief joined the worry on the man's face. "Peter. Thank God."

Peter ran hand through his hair. "What do you mean? Happy, I've been here all afternoon."

"I know," Happy sighed. "I just... can I come in?"

"Yeah. Yeah of course." The teen stepped aside before closing the door behind him.

When he had, Happy looked him up and down, his concerned expression only deepening. "Peter, you look awful."

Peter laughed. "Good to see you too."

"I'm serious, Kid."

"I just woke up from a nap, Happy," he sighed. "I'm fine."

"You were just asleep?"

"Yeah, that's why it took me so long to get to the door."

"You were asleep while your best friend was over?"

****.

"How...?"

"I passed him coming in."

"Oh." Of course he did. Of course he freaking had to. "Yeah. I mean, we finished the set we were working on, and I fell asleep on the floor. Ned half-woke me up to tell me he had to go."

"He didn't mention you being asleep."

"You talked to him?"

"Briefly."

This just kept getting better and better.

"Well... what did he say?" He didn't think he wanted to know.

Happy pursed his lips. "Just that he was glad to see me, because he was really worried about you."

Peter exhaled heavily. "Ignore him. I was just really tired today. Thus why I was asleep."

"You know I can tell the difference between just woke up and just stopped crying, right?"

A short silence followed. Peter's mouth was open, but nothing was coming out.

Why was he so bad at this?

Happy let out a long breath and nodded to the living room. "Sit with me. We need to talk."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. In reality, he was just desperately trying not to start crying all over again.

Against all of his better judgement, he followed Happy over to the next room and sank down on the couch.

Happy sat across from him and took a deep breath. "I know I've asked you this question a lot lately, Kid, but I'm gonna do it again, trusting that you know we both know the truth. Are you okay?"

Peter sighed tiredly, forcing himself to meet the man's intensely concerned gaze. "Happy, I'm fine."

The answer obviously didn't surprise him, but it just as obviously disappointed him. "Your AI sent me a message last night."

His heart clenched hard inside of him. No. Not again. He'd been so careful. No, no, no.

"I... nothing happened last night..." He struggled to make sentences form in his mouth. "What the heck did she tell you this time? She didn't tell me she was contacting you!"

"It wasn't an SOS," Happy explained patiently. "Same protocol, different level."

"There's levels now?" Peter asked incredulously.

"Almost like the person who designed it cared about you or something," Happy replied evenly.

This was going so, so bad, so, so fast.

He dragged his hands down his face hard, once again using the action to push back his tears and questioning as he did, "What did she say?"

"She gave me your injury report for the past three weeks," Happy told him evenly, tapping the device on his wrist and queuing a hologram of a human body. "Take note of the highlighted area."

The diagram's glowing forearm made Peter feel like he was going to throw up.

Happy tapped on it, and it zoomed in to reveal scars, scratches, and cuts of differing severity littering the surface.

A short paragraph appeared beside the picture.

Mild lacerations: daily additions

These injuries have been highlighted because their quantity, severity, and frequency of appearance suggest an ongoing problem. Most likely causes include: abuse. self-harm. If injuries become a pattern, Trust vs Mistrust will be activated at Level 2 and help will be contacted.

Peter stared at the report silently simply because he had no idea what to say.

Finally, Happy spoke again. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

The cuts had stopped bleeding, but they'd still look like what they were for now. He'd have to stall for at least another twenty minutes if he wanted to be sure they didn't look like much. Closer to fifty if he really wanted to be safe.

This was so, so, so not good.

"Peter?" Happy prompted gently, and the boy realized he'd continued to silently stare at the diagram in front of him for much too long.

"Happy..." He tried, but the word didn't really come out in an audible way, and he had to make a second attempt. "Happy, I... I swear... it's not... I'm fine, okay?"

He was still whispering, still barely holding back a torrent of tears.

"No one is asking you to be fine, Kid," he countered. "Alright? I'm just trying to help."

"I don't... I can't... need help, okay, Happy?" Peter gasped. "I know you don't get it, but I just... I just can't."

"Why, Peter?"

"Because..." He choked, swallowed hard, and tried again. "Because if you help me, you'll die!"

And he started to cry again, desperate sobs that wracked his entire body.

"People who do what you're trying to do for me always die."

The last sentence was barely audible. Peter could barely hear it himself. He allowed his head to drop to his hands as he continued to helplessly cry.

"Peter, I need you to listen to me, okay?" Happy asked gently. "Nothing that has happened to you or anyone you love is your fault. Alright? It's not your fault."

"You're wrong!" He willed himself to shut up, but somehow he just couldn't. "You... you don't know what happened, Happy! I... I could've stopped it, but I... I didn't, and now..."

"Stopped what, Peter?"

"Ben!"

Shut up. Just shut up.

"We were walking back to the car, and this guy runs out of a convenience store he just robbed. Ben tackled him and he shot him and... and I'd just gotten my powers, but I was so scared of them that I... I decided not to... but I could've stopped him. If I'd just... I could've... but I was too scared, and now he's dead and Mr. Stark is dead and my parents are dead and I... I'm not gonna let you..."

And he broke completely, his hands dropping and his head plummeting to his knees as his body rocked forward and he slid off of the couch, his head slammed against the coffee table, and he sobbed on the carpet.

The only other person he'd ever told that story was Tony.

The two of them had been heading into Delmar's, the mentor intent on testing his prodeje's claim that the little shop sold the best sandwiches in the city, when a robber burst from the door they'd been about to walk through, cash in one hand and gun in the other.

No convenience store robber was prepared to run into Iron Man, suit or no suit, and Tony had made quick work of disarming the man and reclaiming the money while his glasses, which Peter now knew as EDITH, called the police and sent them a clear photograph of the man's face.

Meanwhile, Peter had frozen and quickly descended into a full-blown panic attack. He dealt with robberies and hold-ups every day, but somehow the familiarity of the situation, the way it was a carbon copy of the night Ben died, had been too much for him, and that had caused him to do the exact same thing that had gotten his uncle killed... freeze in uncontrollable terror.

And Tony had held him without question or judgement, talked him down, asked him to name his surroundings like the expert he was, repeated over and over again to his desperate apologies, "It's okay. You're okay. Peter, I get them too. Stop apologizing and breathe."

That time, it was on the other side of the tears and panic that the story had come out, soft and ashamed and really only being told because he felt like he owed his mentor some kind of an explanation as to what had happened back there.

Now, he was cursing the words as they came out of his mouth. Willing himself to stop because he was doing exactly what he was telling Happy he couldn't do... letting him in and letting him help and painting a target on his back in the process.

He felt arms wrapping around him, pulling him up off of the floor, made out scattered words of comfort, "Just a kid... Not your fault... Be okay..." and found himself sobbing into Happy's shoulder.

Then, he realized that he was once again doing what he'd sworn not to and desperately pushed the man away, felt his breath coming in ragged gasps and helplessly willed himself not to panic.

"I can't! Happy, I just... I can't do this!"

"Peter, I am not going to die..."

"You don't know that!"

He got to his feet and paced several steps away, still unable to stop the tears sliding down his face.

"So I do this, okay?" He gestured to his wrist. "Because it... it keeps me from hurting anyone else. And I know it's stupid, but I just... right now I need... something, alright? And it's fine. I'm fine. Thanks to this, I'm fine."

"Kid, you're not fine." He didn't know how Happy was staying so calm and steady. "I don't want you to have nothing... I want you to have something better.."

"Okay, well I'm alive!" Peter amended, still not turning back to face him. "And you're alive, and May's alive. So everything's fine."

"Peter..."

"Happy, please." He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down his tears with an effort. "Please. May's gonna be home any minute, and she cannot know about this." She wasn't, but he needed this conversation to end now. "She cannot worry about this... about me. Not... after everything, I just... please. She can't."

"Peter," Happy tried again, but he did turn around now, finally meeting his mentor's eyes to plead with his own.

"Please. I... if you wanna talk about it, we can talk about it, okay? Just not here, not now. And I'll stop, I swear I'll stop. But please, please don't tell Aunt May."

There was a long moment of silence. Peter forced himself to continue meeting Happy's gaze so he could keep on silently begging him to keep this to himself.

Finally, the man exhaled heavily. "Tomorrow. I'm picking you up from school tomorrow, and we are gonna talk about this. Okay?"

Peter let out a shaky sigh of relief, nodding a little and whispering, "Okay. Thank you."

Happy just pursed his lips, his eyes making it clear he was still extremely torn about the decision he'd just made. "Are you gonna be okay tonight, Kid?"

"Yeah, Happy, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

It was clear by the look on the head of security's face that, that wasn't going to happen, but he got to his feet anyway.

"If you're not, you call me. You got that?"

"I'll be fine."

"Peter..."

"Yes. Got it."

"Alright. Good. I'll see you tomorrow, Peter."

"Bye," the boy whispered, and Happy finally turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Peter closed his eyes and willed himself not to break down again. He just had to hold it together. He couldn't keep doing this.

He couldn't keep worrying people and burdening people and being this... this useless, broken...

But he was broken. He was useless.

Maybe he should just stop pretending otherwise.

Pretending that he mattered.

May loved him. Of course she did. But she had so much to live for. She had so much she could be fully free to do if she didn't have him tying her down.

Happy certainly had better things to do than worry about him.

And New York would probably be better off without him screwing up every time he turned around.

He'd been over this. He couldn't make May the aunt of the boy who killed himself.

But what if she didn't know he killed himself?

What if it looked like he died on the job?

Then she could be the aunt of the boy no one knew was Spider-Man, who died a hero. It was a better legacy than he deserved, but it was honor to her name.

But how? He could just be a little too careless with the next armed criminal he came across, but he didn't feel right about that. These were bad people, yes, but most of them had never killed someone, and he didn't want to make them start with a sixteen year-old.

But if he got a hold of his own gun, it would be obvious he did it himself.

Stop. He had to stop.

It wasn't even seven pm and he hadn't even started his homework, but he found himself rushing to his room, tearing off his shirt, and falling into bed. Asleep was as close to dead as he was allowed to get right now, so he was going to sleep.