"I'm slowly drifting to you
The stars and the planets
Are calling me
A billion years away from you
I'm on my way
I'm on
I'm on"

- My Tears Are Becoming A Sea by M83

I highly suggest listening to this song while reading. Also, for all of you that are waiting for an update on Superstar, don't worry. I promise it's coming. :)

endgame spoilers

Peter sits on his bed. He hears the springs groan under him. The sound was supposed to feel familiar. Now, it feels somewhat like a stranger, foreign, and unfamiliar, kind of like Aunt May. May. Peter remembers the relief he felt when he saw May, when she pulled him into her arms, held onto him tight when he couldn't even find the energy to hug her back, when he was limp and unresponsive, but, nevertheless, relieved. Not joyful. Never joyful. Not while he was gone. But, he was reassured. He now had May to fill up the empty hole in his heart. He wasn't completely alone, he had thought.

Oh, how wrong he was.

May was anything but familiar. She was all fake smiles and fake hope. The smile lines under her eyes had long faded away into nothing (I don't want to go). She replaced her wacky clothes with plain shirts and pants, clothes that made her blend in, that made her not May. She changed the apartment, how it was arranged, said it reminded her to much of him. May scolded him when he thought he had the right to feel guilty and really, he shouldn't feel guilty. It wasn't his fault.

Peter recalled everyone who told him that. Mr. Rhodey, Happy, Captain Rogers, Ms. Potts, no, Ms. Stark (we won, Mr. Stark). Despite the fact everyone told him it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help but feel like it was. Peter laid down on the bed and rested his head on his red and gold pillow before daydreaming of what if's. What if Peter had stayed on the bus? He wouldn't have gotten in the way, then. Him and Doctor Strange could have defeated Thanos together. They wouldn't have had to worry about him every second.

Mr. Stark wouldn't have ended up alone in space, surrounded by a hundred different stars that decorated the galaxy.

Peter was reminded of a message that the man had left for him before he left to save the world again, fix what was broken, go back in time. Pepper insisted he listen to it even after he refused many times because he had just stopped crying, but seeing the pleading look on her face, and noticing how she only came up to him after Morgan (who was around him all day because he was Peter and he was her hero) ran away to talk to her Uncle Happy, made him agree.

"This one's for you kid."

For him. For Peter.

Mr. Stark went back in time, risked losing his wife, his daughter, his family, the one thing he ever wanted, the one thing he deserved, for Peter, some novice kid who had dreams that were too big, some menace who didn't know when he wasn't wanted (You should not be here).

He did it for Peter.

And Peter didn't even get to say thank you.

He didn't get to thank him for making him smile and laugh. For hanging out with him. For being there. For being his mentor. His dad. And even though it would never happened, even though Peter knew he would never want it, Peter hoped that Mr. Stark would have liked that, liked being his dad.

Peter felt his throat tighten, felt his eyes burning, as his eyelashes began to soak with tears because Mr. Stark was already a father to someone else, to a beautiful, smart, girl named Morgan who probably won't even remember her dad, the hero that saved them all, when everyone else will.

Peter sniffled because while he was stuck in the soul world, Mr. Stark was years away, happy, and with a family and he had lost it all.

Peter whimpered because it wasn't fair.

Peter wept because ages ago he had Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark, who was his home, who was warm, who was smiles, who was laughter, who was happiness.

Peter sobbed because he'd never have that again.

Peter cried because Tony was gone.

And he wasn't coming back.