So Infinity War probably crushed your soul enough, but if you happen to be in the mood for some more devastation, take a peak at this fic of Peter's "death" from Tony's POV first, then Peter's. Enjoy...?

*A/N Boy, it's been a while. I'm back! Even though I normally write in past, this is written in present tense because past tense just doesn't make sense. Everything happens so fast and their emotions and thoughts are changing every second so I wanted to sort of capture that and show how they'd be thinking and feeling in "real" time. There're a lot of italicized lines because this is very dramatic and Tony is kind of freaking out and he's angry and scared so he's emphasizing a lot due to such strong emotions at play (sorry if it bothers you). I was originally not going to write one from Peter's POV, but then I read one and I was like sure so here we are, but I think the one from Tony's POV is better idk why. I think his character is a lot more complicated in this sense because of his vision from (I think) Age of Ultron and his relationship with his own father so he tries to do his best by Peter (as much as I would love to think of Peter and Tony's relationship being that strong, I really don't think it is during Infinity War. That being said, I do think Tony really does care for Peter, as I believe you will find out in this fic). Some things are slightly different between the 2 POVs intentionally because they are different people so yeah they'd probably interpret stuff a little differently. Scrolling through search results I realized there are a ton of these already so if my ideas seem like anyone else's, I'm sorry. There's just no way I could read them all haha so I hope you like it, but if you don't, please let me know why or even if you do I'd love to hear your feedback :)

"Mr. Stark?"

Peter's voice sounds different. It's shaky and uncertain, not like his usual cocky, smart-aleck tone. He sounds afraid, though I can't say I blame him. I turn to him. He's looking at the ground with an expression that matches his voice.

"I don't feel so good."

A cold feeling washes over me so suddenly I'm unable to think of anything decent to say. "You're alright," I blurt without thinking. Because he is, isn't he? He has to be. No, it can't be Peter, this isn't happening, it didn't happen, we can't lose. I'm imagining things. Maybe Thanos did kill me. That's it, I'm dead. Strange never gave up the Time Stone, they're fighting on without me. Yeah. Sure.

Peter sways slightly on his feet. I thought he would be safe, the others went so much faster. I thought after everyone else was gone that he would be fine. He should be fine. Maybe he's just freaking out. But then I see little flakes of ash floating away from where his toes should be.

I shouldn't have let him come. I was supposed to protect him. I tried, didn't I? I told him to go home, I gave him the suit to save him, it's not like I asked him to come…

He speaks and there's panic rising in his voice. "I donno- I don't know what's happening." He stumbles towards me. "I don't understand what's-!"

He trips as his feet turn to dust and I have to catch him before he hits the ground. I need a moment to think, but I'm afraid that's all I have. I want to help him. I want to tell him we can still defeat Thanos, tell him we can still win, tell him anything that might comfort him. His sagging frame suddenly shifts and he's clinging to me around the shoulders as tight as he can (boy, is he still strong) and he's begging me, oh God-

"I don't want to go. I don't want to go, sir, please. Please."

The kid is pleading with me and I'm just standing there totally silent like a real genius. He probably thinks I'm a terrific mentor right now. But what the hell do you say to a fifteen-year-old kid that might be dying in your arms on some distant planet? Got nothing? Yeah, I thought so.

He's crying now, Tony, get a grip!

I feel Peter starting to fall from my embrace and I try to keep him up, God, I try, but I'm beginning not to trust my own legs to support me. Some mentor I am. Jesus. He's the one dying, he's the kid here and I can't even say anything. He looks up to me, he was counting on me.

I make up my mind right then. I will kill Thanos. And I'm gonna kill that Quill for getting in the way. Peter had the damn thing off his hand, for Christsake! I will get that gauntlet and I will fix everything. I'm an Avenger, dammit, so I'm going to fix this.

I wish there was nothing I had to fix. I wish I was home with Pepper (oh God, is she okay?). I wish Peter stayed on the bus and went to the MOMA and never got on the spaceship and never came to this planet and I wish he wasn't dying in my arms.

But mostly I wish it was me. I wish Thanos had killed me and Strange hadn't given him the Time Stone… but what did he mean "there was no other way"? This really doesn't seem like the outcome when we win. Thanos has all the stones and everyone is dying and now he can- I don't even care. That's not the most important thing right now. The fear in Peter's voice is ripping my heart out and I can only think about how much I wish it wasn't him. Would this still have happened if he had never become Spider-Man?

I just don't know what to do. He's still talking and that would be some kind of reassuring if what he was saying didn't hurt so much.

"I don't want to go. I don't want to go."

Stop saying that. Stop saying that and I'll help you, just be quiet so I can think.

I still can't make myself say anything.

The pain in my side is still persisting, but it seems dull and unimportant. Nevertheless, I can't hold Peter up any longer and we fall to the ground with a grunt. I avoid looking down because I know his legs are starting to disintegrate and I can't think about that.

Focus on his eyes, Tony.

He's staring up at the sky which seems so different from the one we're used to and I wonder what he's thinking, but I also don't want to know because I know his thoughts are filled with fear and pain and I want it to stop I want to help him how do I help him!?

Some superhero I am.

He's taking in ragged, shuddery breaths and I don't let go of him, I won't let go of him even though I know that won't help, but as long as I feel him I know he's still here and maybe he feels the same way.

Good Lord, say something, you idiot! Peter is scared and dying, tell him SOMEthing! What should I say? What does he want to hear? Is this all my fault? Should I apologize? Would that just scare him?

Before I can even decide if that's a good idea or not, he takes the words right out of my mouth. Peter looks me right in the eye, a sheen of tears shining in the strange lighting, and says, "I'm sorry."

There are a thousand things I want to say to that (of course now I think of something), most admittedly not too comforting like "I told you you shouldn't be here" or "You screwed the pooch again, didn't you?" or "Now you apologize? After all the times you messed up you apologize for doing something right?", but I don't get a chance to tell him any of that. I can't manage a sound before he's turned to dust in my arms and my hands drop to the ground.

The truth is he really didn't mess up. He did the best he could and he really was helping. Why couldn't I have told him that?

I look at my empty palms. I'm the one who screwed the pooch. This is on me. The sight and feeling of the dust on my hands disgusts me, the dust of a teenage boy that had better things to do than die in a war he was never supposed to be a part of. Panic is creeping up on me and I brush my hands off hurriedly to avoid it as best I can.

I turn away from where Peter was, where Peter should be and bring my shaking hands to my mouth, trying to maintain some degree of calm despite hearing my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I close my eyes, breathing deeply. Wanda's vision has come true.

That's it.

He's gone.

We've lost.

I've lost.