~ Mourning Makes Me Sick ~

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Summary: It's the 10 year anniversary of the death of Peter's parents, and he doesn't know how to tell the avengers.

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Peter's Pov:
I stared at my alarm clock with tears in my eyes, my eyes fogged over with sorrow as it turned to midnight on the dreaded day.

The day I lost my parents in a plane crash.

I was only six years old with a tiny mind but I remembered it all, the last touch and final glance at them both. I was being placed into the arms of my Uncle Ben and Aunt May, my Mom caressed my cheek with her soft and gentle touch before planting a kiss on my temple, my Dad with his hand on my little shoulder.

"You'll be good for your Auntie and Uncle, won't you Little Man?" Dad said as he ruffled up my hair, I giggle and nodded happily with my childhood innocence.

"We'll be back real soon, I promise." Mom told me, I held out my pinkie finger towards her.

"Pinkie promise?" I asked her, she wrapped her pinkie around mine.

"Pinkie promise." She confirmed with a smile. They started to walk toward the car with their bags, I watched from the doorway as I got lifted up onto my Uncle Ben's shoulders.

"We love you, Peter!" Mom called out before getting into the passenger seat, waving at me.

"I Wuvoo!" I replied as I frantically waved back.

Then they drove away.

I couldn't stop the streams flowing out of my eyes, nor the memories that flooded my mind and played on a continuous loop. I thought about them all the time, it still wasn't as much as I should do. I grabbed my blanket and curled up into a ball, sobbing into my pillow. I stayed that way for the rest of the night.

I couldn't bear to face school on a day like this, I've had no sleep, I was still crying and just felt terrible. I cried so much that my head was throbbing, my stomach was aching, I felt physically weak with overwhelming sadness. I needed to take the day off, that would mean having to fake sick.

I sat up in my bed, I could hear Mr Stark talking with someone in the hallway about waking me up in a minute, that worried me that he was going to see me like this and just made the tears come out even faster!

My sobs quickly turned into gags as my stomach suddenly cramped up, I was going to hurl! I made a mad dash to my ensuite bathroom and immediately started throwing up violently into the toilet bowl, my body hurt so badly and the tears showed no signs of stopping.

"Aww Underoos!" I heard Tony sigh sympathetically from the doorway, but I kept my head down as I felt more vomit trying to come up my throat. I could feel a hand running up and down my back, it was very soothing considering what I was going through. It took some time but after a few minutes I was done with this vomiting spell. I leaned my back against Tony's chest in exhaustion and whimpered sadly. This was not a good start to a very bad day.

"Sh-sh-sh, you're okay Bambino." Tony cooed softly as he ran a hand through my hair, I knew he was trying to calm me down but his actions reminded me of what my parents used to do to me when I was upset.

"You feeling pretty yucky, huh?" Tony asked me, I felt more than yucky to be honest. I nodded slowly and leaned in closer to him, he felt my forehead with the back of his hand.

"Hmm?" He hummed with a hint of confusion, probably because I just threw up from hours of solid crying. I didn't expect to have a fever or anything.

"Your face feels really warm, Pete. And you look awful." Tony told me, I could have guessed that already. He gently picked me up by hoisting me up under the thighs, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me back to my bed. He grabbed my pillow and went to fluff it up for me, but it was my crying pillow.

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