Just the typical sad marvel thing /Peter

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Tony's pov:
I've been in my room for a long time now. I'm crying and panicking. I hate panic attacks, they're scary and I can't control them. I can't do anything but keep thinking about Peter's attempt. I'm so tired of this, my head hurts and I'm shaking. Did he really try to? Did he want to? Was it really an attempt or am I overreacting? I've been thinking about it since I came to my room but I haven't done anything in a year now. I'll feel so bad and guilty. I take the lighter from the table. I don't do anything with it yet, I play with it to make myself calmer. I light it. I stare at the flame and then blow it. I should've noticed him getting worse. I should've talked to him. I didn't check up on him. Why am I like this? I feel so bad. I sit up in my bed. The urge to just do it has grown too big. I don't care anymore. I've been struggling in my room for hours, it's around midnight and I'm exhausted. I just want to sleep. I won't get away from these thoughts and they're so loud. I hate the fact that I'm about to relapse. I pull the right leg of my pants up to my knees. I look at the old, healed scarring on my calf. The spots that have been left from the previous relapses and burns. I take my lighter and put it under my leg. I don't light it yet, I just hold it there. The urge is really tempting but I'm still not sure if I'm gonna do it or not. But then something clicks in my mind, blaming me for everything and I feel like I can't no more, I have to. The lighter clicks as I light it. Then I hold it under my leg. I clench my jaw as I feel the burning. I count, and I hold it there for eight seconds. "1, 2, 3..." I whisper shakily. I take the lighter away. Red, puffy spots appear on my leg right after. It burns really much and it's itchy. I know I shouldn't scratch it but I do now and with that I open up a wound on my calf. It starts bleeding. I hold the lighter under it again. It hurts much more now but I don't care, I definitely deserve it. I hiss at the sudden pain. I count again, breathing more shakily as the pain increases. My breathing is totally messed up now. I'm breathing heavily because of the panic attack but also I feel like I can't breathe, and with the burning and quivering breaths it feels like I'm about to pass out. I make a couple more burned scars. My thoughts and panic are long gone but I'm still burning. I know I have to stop but I just can't now. The only thing that makes me put the lighter down is that I'm so, unbelievably exhausted. I look at the mess I made on my leg once more, I don't feel anything. I became numb with that. I try to pull my pants back down, but I can't. My scars hurt too much and even if just the fabric touches them, I could scream, they hurt so bad. So I go to sleep with the leg of my pants pulled up, making sure my blanket doesn't touch it.

[time skip - next day]

Peter's pov:
I wake up to my alarm at 6 am. I have school today. Sadly. I hate school so much. After 15 minutes I finally get out of bed and dress up. As I put my sweater on and it runs along the cuts, it hurts really bad. I look at my arm. Bruce bandaged it up with some tape thing that I can't pull off, so I wouldn't hurt myself. I hate it. It's a big white rectangle on my whole forearm. And of course, I can see the red, stained lines on it where the stitches leaked. I don't eat today, I just wash my teeth and go to school. I'm surprised no one said anything. I mean, only Nat and Bruce were there when I left and maybe they didn't notice that I didn't eat. But Nat probably did. She knows about my shit.

When I get to school I meet with Ned. Then I have Maths and then Chemistry. At lunch break, Flash comes to my table where I sit alone. Ned is not there, he has a tutor from English on Thursdays. So Flash can do anything to me. And obviously during lunch, when I don't eat anything usually, I just have my food in front of me. He grabs my tray and shoves it into my face. Now my clothes and face are covered in pea soup and spaghetti. Nice. "You didn't need to eat that anyway fatty." Everyone laughs at me. Everyone. I stand up and go to the bathroom, to wash it off and to not embarrass myself by crying, in front of the school. I scrub my shirt with water while sobbing in the school bathroom. Fatty, pig, fat, ugly. All the words Flash and Matthew said ring in my ears. Suddenly Flash breaks into the bathroom and comes towards me. "Why are you crying freak?" I don't pay attention to him. I turn off the tap and go into a cabin. When I'm about to close it, Flash stops me and puts his feet to block the door from closing. "Parker! Come on. It wasn't that bad." I just want to be alone finally, so I kick his knees so he would get his feet away. It doesn't go as I planned. Although he pulls his feet back, he even falls down. I hear a thud as he lands on his hands. "You son of a bitch," he mutters. I locked my door already but he finds a way to get in. He goes to the cabin next to me and climbs over the wall between us. He slaps me as soon as he lands next to me. Then he pushes me to make me fall. I don't even have time to stand up, he drags me over the toilet and forces my face into it. I take a deep breath before he pushes my head completely into the water. Then he lets me breathe for just a second before forcing me back into it. He does this a couple of times and I'm almost drowning when he lets me go and goes out of the cabin. I try to pull myself together and get him what he deserves after this but he's long gone when I can even stand up. I don't bother going after him. I try to make myself look decent after this torture session and go to class.