There are a lot of things that Peter sees in just one day.
He goes to school, to Avengers Tower, and not to mention goes all around New York City during his patrols. Thanks to his spider senses, he's able to take in a whole lot more information than the average human- and thank the spider gods for giving him 20/20 vision.
When Peter first became Spider-Man, he couldn't get enough of his heightened senses. Sure, there were moments where they got kicked up a notch (more like kicked up a million notches) and he thought he was going to die before graduating high school, but he had to admit, it was so much fun. He felt free, unique, and important, something that not many people his age could say. There was always something new to see, and that prospect made getting up in the morning so exciting in his eyes.
But nothing could've prepared Peter for what he saw coming home one day after patrol.
"May," Peter called out, opening the door to the apartment he shared with his aunt. He threw his backpack to the side of the room and pulled out the left earphone that was resting on his ear. "I'm back!"
As soon as he shut the door and the earphone was out his ear, Peter knew something was wrong. The hair on his arms were stood directly up, and the quietness of the apartment was louder than the hustle and bustle of New York.
Something's wrong, he thought, shivering slightly despite it being 84 degrees out.
His senses weren't sensing anything dangerous, per se, it felt more... off. Like an imbalance.
Peter kept walking forward, and with each step he took, his senses went more and more berserk. Soon, he turned and reached the kitchen and his heart rate skyrocketed as he took in what he saw in front of him.
There on the hard kitchen floor was his once lively and vibrant aunt, who was laying as still as a statue.
Peter didn't need to touch her to know that she was cold. Too cold. His senses allowed him to see her as if she was under a microscope. He knew May was dead the second he looked at her.
Peter wished more than anything to stop seeing.
Wide-eyed and stricken with grief, Peter ran over to his aunt and dropped to the floor, laying her head on his lap as he tried to wake her up.
He knew he was being stupid; May was gone. He knew that. But something in him couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. "May," Peter cried out, his voice hoarse and small. "May."
He said her name over and over again like a prayer, rocking her still body slightly.
"P-please, don't leave me," Peter clutched her tightly, feeling her already cold skin. "I c-can't lose you too, May! Come back! Please, please, please..."
Tears blurred his vision as he sobbed violently, holding his aunt so tightly that he knows he must've bruised her had she been alive. Peter didn't want to look at her face, because the May he always remembered was the May that had taken him in, "larbed" him, and became his mother figure in a way that filled that deep void he had after his parents and Ben passed away.
And now, as he hangs his sobbing head on his aunts still chest, he feels that void coming back stronger with each second that goes by without his last family member in his life.
"May... May... May..."
It's been two months since then, and it had not gotten easier like Peter had thought.
He thought that this time around, it would be better because he had Mr. Stark and all of the Avengers by his side.
When May died, Tony did not hesitate to take Peter in. Not only did Tony take guardianship of Peter, but he took care of everything so Peter didn't have to do anything other than try to heal and grieve.
Peter knew that, and he was grateful. Ever since he started to live with the Avengers, he felt like he finally had a brand new start with his brand new family. And Peter loved each of them individually.
But now, two months later, as he lay in the darkness of his room at 3 in the morning, he feels more like a burden than anything.
Every night he suffered with the same nightmare. And lately, they've been progressively getting worse. Instead of just reliving May's death over and over again, sometimes it would transform and he would see Mr. Stark laying there, still, unmoving, dead.
The nightmares were so bad to the point that Peter dreaded sleep. He fought sleep every night, and some nights he went without sleep at all. He would rather stare blankly at the dark ceiling for hours on end than see his dead aunt again, and even worse, to see his mentor/father figure dead too.
Peter sighed and ran his hand over his face. He was tired. So, so tired. He hadn't slept a full night in over two months, he hadn't talked about how he felt to anybody at all because he felt like enough of a burden by intruding Avengers Tower, and he also stopped being Spider-Man after May died because he felt so guilty. If he had come back sooner, he would've been able to save her. But he didn't. He had failed May.
Peter thought back to Mr. Stark, and how well he was handling all of this. For a guy that never saw himself as a father, Peter thought he was one hell of a father figure. Tony was patient, and there for him like nobody else was, always there to let Peter cry into his shoulder for hours or keep him company as Peter would stare blankly at a wall for long periods of time.
Peter knew that this wasn't what Tony originally wanted- who would want a 16 year old kid to take care of? Mr. Stark just had a bigger heart than he let on and he took Peter in out of pity.
Something in Peter twinged, his heart aching slightly at the thought of being a burden to Tony Stark- his long time hero, friend, and father figure.
You intruded in his life, the voice in Peter's head sneered. He's Tony Stark, one of the most influential people in the world and most beloved superhero. How could he have time for you? You're bringing him down. You're nothing but a burden. You were a burden to your parents, you were a burden to Ben and May, and now you're a burden to Mr. Stark.
Peter clamped his hands over his ears and shook his head vehemently, trying to rid his brain of these thoughts.
Leave, the voice said louder this time. Run away. It's the least you can do. Nobody will care that you're gone. You're nobody.
The hands over his ears went slack, and Peter murmured with unblinking eyes, "I'm nobody."
With a speed he didn't think he could possess again, Peter jumped up and threw on his Spider-Man suit after it taunted him from his closet for months now. Peter pushed back the myriad feelings that began to come to light as he put on his suit that he had once loved so much, and willed himself to focus on the task at hand.
Okay, Peter, you can do this. You're just going to swing away from here and not look back. You're not going to think about how much you grew to love living here, and you're not going to think about any of them. You're just going to leave. You can do it, Peter chanted to himself in his head as he took one deep breath before quietly swinging his door open and striding down the hall towards the windows that he knew opened.
As he strode through multiple doors and reached the common room, Peter felt tears stinging his eyes as he remembered memories with each and every person he grew to love. He remembered his trainings with Natasha, and how she'd always offer him a barely there smile at the end of their trainings, but a smile nonetheless.
He remembered Bucky, and how even though Bucky was always a little distanced from everybody, he always greeted Peter a good morning and goodnight everyday, and offered to be there if Peter ever needed someone to talk to. He remembered Steve, who was always somewhat protective of Peter- Steve was the one (alongside Tony) who would be there every time Peter would throw up the small amounts of food he ate because he couldn't stomach it, Steve was the one to carry him to bed when he was too weak and depressed to lift himself up, and Steve was the one who tucked him in and spared a long, meaningful glance at him before turning around and exiting his room.
He remembered Bruce, who was a lot funnier than Peter originally thought, with all the time they spent together in the lab. He remembered playing video games with Clint, who would always demand a redo every time Peter beat him in Mario Kart, and even when Peter kept beating him, Clint would lightly shove Peter's shoulder with a soft smile on his face and say "next time, you're going down, Spider-Boy." He remembered Thor, who he wasn't able to see as often, but remembered Thor's kind looks and gentle hugs every time he came to visit.
But most important of all, Peter remembered Mr. Stark. Tony. He remembered the man who believed in him when no one else did, he remembered the man who would hug Peter tightly after a particularly long day despite saying that they weren't there yet. He remembered the man who helped Peter through countless panic attacks, and not once made Peter feel stupid for them. He remembered the man who once ordered Thai food for the team's dinner, but once he saw the haunted look that only came across Peter's face when it had to do with May, he immediately bunched up the food, sent it away to give to the homeless, and ordered dozens of boxes of pizza without question. He remembered the man who gave him absolutely everything and more, and how Peter wasn't able to give him anything back.
Wiping a traitor tear that slid down his cheek, Peter sniffed and shook his head as if to dispel all the memories in his head. He knew he had to do this, not for himself but for everyone. He didn't want to burden them any longer.
He eventually made it to the window, opened it and stood at the edge, staring down at the long drop. He was probably about 70 stories high, and normally, Peter would've felt a twinge of both fear and excitement looking down from this height. But now, Peter felt an overwhelming feeling of numbness, and tears of frustration formed bitterly in his eyes.
"Get on with it, Parker," Peter muttered to himself. He didn't understand why he was hesitating. He knew what he had to do, but why was he stalling? He was being selfish, trying to stretch this moment out into a thousand, because he knew that once he left, he'd never see them again. His family. Tony.
Just as Peter was about to take the leap, a voice broke out and made Peter freeze in place.
"Hey Pete... Please, don't do this, alright? Just... just turn around and talk to me. W-we can work whatever this is out, kid, just... please, come back over here, okay?"
The voice was laced with worry, and was enough to distract the sleep-deprived, conflicted teen from keeping his balance, and Peter slipped, feeling the rush of falling down, down, down...
He was free.