Oh fuck.

I don't want to go.

He's gone.

Mr. Stark.

Gone.

I'm sorry.

Tony faces the kitchen. Peter's homework is still sprawled across the table, notes scrawled in chicken-scratch writing in the margins.

Everything was fine for a few trembling seconds.

And then it wasn't.

I crumple, collapsing into myself like an imploding star. Nothing's okay. He's gone. How can the world exist without Peter Parker? It's not possible. But yet, the world hasn't stopped spinning, gravity hasn't erased itself, the sun still shines. For one of the first times in my life, I don't understand.

That's a new one.

I stumble to my feet, using the counter to help myself up. It takes only a few steps to reach the liquor cabinet, but it feels like eternity.

The alcohol - I'm not sure what I grabbed - burns like hellfire as it goes down.

I collapse on the wall, gripping what I can now see is vodka in my hands like salvation.

It's probably not salvation.

No, I would say definitely not.

I'll still try.

I tip back my head once again, the vodka catching the light like bottled moonlight.

Mr. Stark?

I take another drink.

I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark.

The voice is quieter.

I don't know how long I stayed there. Maybe too long. I know the previously-full bottle is nearing low when a voice interrupts.

"So you haven't changed." Cap. He's standing there, the vision of righteousness and American goodness. He has a beard now. He looks different.

I laugh, head resting on the wall and hooded eyes, "oh I think you'll find that I have, Capiscle."

"Hello, Tony," Natasha smiles faintly from behind Steve, her eyes still wary.

My lips tug back - although I'm not sure it could be considered a smile, "Hi Nat. You changed your hair, I like it."

She nods. "Yeah." Her eyes see the homework, and I take another swig of the liquid fire in my hand, although it doesn't burn as much now.

Even better.

"Whose are these," she asks carefully, eyes glued to the offending calculus.

"Peter's," I say, voice emotionless.

"Who is Peter?"

"Doesn't matter now," I dismiss, putting down the vodka and getting up on unsteady feet. I nearly fall, but grab onto the granite in time.

"I'm...ah, gonna go." I mumble, snatching up the bottle of vodka again. Cap moves, as if to stop me, but doesn't do anything in the end. Typical. "You can stay here." I offer, staggering out of the kitchen.