Wade was used to knowing what it was like to be hated. He knew what it meant to be abandoned, to be so consciously ignored that the air around everyone else actually felt breathable when he wasn't around. At least that's what he was told. By his father no less. Well, a figment of his father really. Or a memory. He couldn't be sure.
The point was that Wade knew. He was familiar with it. He breathed it and lived it without so much as a second thought, like a shadow following a lost dog into a butcher's realm, just waiting for the sun to set but knowing that it wouldn't reach liberation in time.
He just accepted it.
But Peter. Seeing him so broken, so tired with life, so weighed down by the same timeless shit that dragged him seemingly deeper and deeper into a secluded reality. He just couldn't take it. Couldn't bare to see Peter suffering those same demons.
Because when he looked at Wade with such a hollow expression, the spark and beauty replaced with something so hopeless and sinister, it was like looking into a mirror.
And he just couldn't handle that.
Especially when Peter felt he had nothing to live for.
It was a good thing Wade was so used to being abandoned.