Here's a baby chapter to prove that I'm still alive and still working on this. Thank you for your patience. I wanted to have this and the (half completed) next chapter done in December, but I've had a lot on my plate and my brain was out to lunch for most of that month. I don't want to make you guys wait too long for the next update, and so I give you this little chapter. Hopefully, I'll update again before the end of the month.

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Insomnia

Peter's eyes were open, but the darkness of the room made it impossible to see anything. Even with his 'dialed to eleven' eye sight, he couldn't make out anything around him. The thick curtains that the hotel had invested in did their job a little too well, blocking out all of the light from the streets below. To most, lying in a marshmallow bed engulfed in darkness would be a calming end to a long day. But for Peter, the absence of light didn't incite any sort of tranquility in him. The days no longer held any significance for the night to deliver reprieve from. The sun revolved around the Earth, rising and falling, and indicating brazenly for all to see that time was marching forward. That days were turning into weeks, and soon those weeks would become months and years. Time, the unstoppable force, pressed on mercilessly leaving May, Ned, and MJ behind.

The world seemed to turn faster than Peter could keep up with. Every second became an hour, and then a day, and responsibilities were piling up. He wanted to pause it all and catch his breath. Days and nights flowed seamlessly, one into the next, indifferent to Peter's needs. These transitional days that separated before and after were finite. Soon, some hard decision would have to be made. Decisions that would affect the rest of his life. Mr. Stark broached no more than one tough question a day, because any more than that would be too overwhelming.

"Do you want to go back to Midtown in September?"

"No."

"Hey, no worries. I can home school you if you want-"

"No. I don't want to bother-"

"It's not a bother, ki-"

"I'll go back to school."

A split second decision, but the right one. Peter reassured himself of this time and again, ever time he remembered that brief moment after he had rejected Mr. Stark's offer. The way his expression had fallen, just for a moment, but long enough for Peter's heart to squeeze painfully. A second later, his features had smoothed out, but Peter could see the hurt remain in his eyes. Peter's throat would constrict whenever his mind strayed to that moment, but then he would strengthen his resolve.

This was for the best. Mr. Stark liked the idea of schooling Peter. He probably thought it would be like their fun weekly lab sessions. A few hours a week filled with jokes, laughter, and the occasional chemical explosion. In practice, home school would be much different. Seven hours a day, Monday through Friday, and Mr. Stark would come to regret his decision. Peter could already see it with terrible clarity: the moment when Mr. Stark would get tired of all the work. The moment when the appeal of whatever drew him to take on the role of guardian became dull and lackluster. The moment when he would realize that, unlike May and Ben, blood didn't tie them together and he was free to leave Peter if he wanted.

Abandonment by choice. The threat of it shrouded every day and dictated all of Peter's actions with its invisible force. Losing the last person that he cared about to apathy. The thought had him wincing from a wound not yet inflicted. It was as if he could see his entire future stretched out before him. Years robbed of their light because there was no one there to illuminate them. No one to share them with. Years spent searching for what he had lost and finding no one at all.

Above all else, that kept him awake at night. It was a unique fear; cold and utterly paralyzing.

One consolation kept his panic at bay: Mr. Stark hadn't had this realization yet. Things between Peter and Mr. Stark weren't good, not by a long shot, but they were stable. And that was enough. Nothing could change. Change would threaten the stability of his life, and so Peter was compelled to place no more demands on Mr. Stark's time. If life could be suspended in stasis in these transitional days, things would be fine.

So, Peter would go to school.

Alone.

Mr. Stark had explained to him that he would need to take an entrance exam for his senior year in lieu of his junior year final exams. Rather than holding back an entire generation of students, the school board had decided to hold these exams to assess the capability of the surviving students. The school year had only been a few weeks away from summer break before… everything had fallen apart. The date for the exam was set for August. With that deadline set, Peter devoted himself to his studies. He submerged himself entirely in chemistry formulas, spent hours committing historical dates to memory, and he nitpicked every goddamn literary device out of 'Lord of the Flies' and 'Animal Farm'. The distraction helped to keep his mind off of the immeasurable sorrow born from the idea of finishing school alone. Without Ned and MJ. Without May or Ben or his parents to cheer from the audience. Mr. Stark would come, because he liked Peter. Ms. Potts might come too. She was kind to Peter and seemed to like him well enough… for now. Graduation was in a year. That was plenty enough time for her to become resentful of Peter's presence. Or rather, his imposition. With a million responsibilities on her plate, she would be well in her right to hate Peter for coming in to her home and monopolizing Mr. Stark's time.

Mr. Stark was there at the hotel for every monotonous day that Peter struggled to get through. Tutoring him in subjects that he didn't really need help with. Reassuring him that he was there, ready and available, if Peter needed anything.

Peter hated that. Hated that he was being treated like he was made of glass. Hated the fact that he sometimes did feel breakable. Hated the way that his mentor was constantly preoccupied with him. But most of all, he hated the strain that he was undoubtedly placing on Mr. Stark's relationship with his fiancée.

Ms. Potts would return to the penthouse every day, tired and frazzled. Her job as CEO of Stark Industries brought about much more responsibility now that the company was lending its aid to help repair the state of the world. What she really needed now was Mr. Stark by her side to help ease some of the work load. Instead, he was working from home, or... hotel, so that he could keep an eye on Peter. How could she not resent Peter for pulling Mr. Stark's focus away from the company at this crucial time? It didn't matter how many times Peter insisted that he was fine and that he could be left alone during the day. Neither Ms. Potts nor Mr. Stark listened to him, and both of them dismissed his insistence that Mr. Stark carry on with his life as usual with compassionate but firm refusals.

There was, of course, a much better alternative that could provide Peter with distraction while freeing up Mr. Stark's time as well; Patrolling Queens and providing damage control. That kind of distraction would make him useful at least, but according to Mr. Stark he wasn't ready.

That lack of faith stung worse than any of Mr. Stark's previous verbal barbs, because he had proven himself, right? Obviously, he couldn't handle apocalyptic level threats, but he could take care of his own city. He was an Avenger. Mr. Stark had said so. He must've had faith in Peter before, since he had offered for him to join the Avengers. Twice. But that faith disappeared in the fall out of the snap. It had been Quill who had ruined the plan, but it was Peter who failed to get the gauntlet off. Mr. Stark had been relying on him, and Peter hadn't been strong enough.

He had let Mr. Stark down and his incompetence had left the universe tumbling in a free fall. Redemption was an impossible dream, but it was one that he still strove for. That was where Spider-Man was needed.

Peter Parker needed Spider-Man to save him just as much as the citizens of New York did.

It was infuriating to be heard but not listened to. His plea to go out patrolling, to be of use, was ignored. Patrolling had helped him to cope with his uncle's death because it gave him a way to assuage his guilt. Without Spider-Man, Peter Parker had nothing to save himself from drowning in the guilt of countless mistakes and disasters. Spider-Man gave Peter Parker's life meaning in a way that nothing else ever could. Without him, Peter was just a kid.

A kid with complexes and incurable insomnia.

Sleep was elusive these nights, just as it had been in the weeks following Ben's death. Insurmountable regret looped countless 'what if' and 'maybe' scenarios through Peter's mind in a vicious cycle until eventually the fatigue would make him crash. Each day, Peter would wade through the day and make it to the night, just to find himself in this exact same position; lying in a marshmallow bed and staring in to the darkness of his room. Eventually, he would fall asleep and wash, rinse, repeat the entire day all over again in the morning.

How many hours had passed? How long had Peter been tossing in his bed, spiraling in his thoughts? The penthouse was silent, Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts having long since gone to sleep. Peter reached over to his bed side table and nudged his phone to display the time.

4:12 am.

Five hours. Yeah, that felt right. Peter's joints felt stiff from lying in one position for so long. They popped as he reached over to pick up his phone and a pair of headphones. His mind was bouncing from one worry to the next. He needed a distraction. Something to quiet down his thoughts until sleep claimed him.

LED light pierced through the darkness and punched Peter's retinas. He flinched and turned the brightness on his phone down. May's distant voice chided him for 'being on his phone instead of sleeping! Go to bed!'. He slipped his earphones in to his ears to drown her out. He brought up YouTube, cause why not, and his finger slid up the screen as he scrolled through the trending list. He didn't have to scroll for long before a video title caught his eye and stopped his heart.

'Steve Rogers Apologizes on Behalf of the Avengers'

A thumbnail of Captain Rogers, dressed in a fine suit and looking very put together, lay just below Peter's fingertip. Published by CNN, four days ago. Ten million views. Icy fingers were clenching his heart. Did he want to do this? No, he really didn't. This would just be rubbing salt in his wounds. But still, he had to know. Hadn't he made that promise to himself to find out as much about this disaster as he could? There existed a chance, an unlikely chance but still a chance, that there was information in this video that Peter wasn't aware of. He would never forgive himself if he passed it by just because he wasn't brave enough to face another reminder of the current reality. Forcibly, he pressed his trembling finger down.

Behind a podium, Captain Rogers severe expression overlooked a crowd of journalists. It was unnervingly stern and guarded, unlike any other time that Peter had seen the man. The sound of cameras snapping pictures preluded his words.

"On May 4th 2012, New York City was attacked for the first time by aliens. We learned that day that we are not alone in the universe, and that hostile alien races have the power and technology to threaten our existence. Now, six years later, on Friday May 11th of this year, we were attacked once more. These two invasions were connected, and we have learned that the attack that occurred last month was an extension of the first attack in 2012. Both of them were ordered by the tyrant alien Thanos, and both times he had one goal in mind; Depopulation of the universe through means of genocide."

Peter's heart was in his throat as he listened with rapt attention to the Captain recapping events that he was already aware of. Despite the fact that Peter had known for a month what had caused the disappearance of half of all life, that he had been there when the battle took place, the news still struck him like a blow to the stomach and left him feeling winded.

"What happened was a horrific tragedy. No, it was more than that. It was a cataclysmic atrocity unlike anything that anyone has ever seen before. It has affected the lives of everyone." A crack appeared in Captain Rogers' facade, revealing a glimpse of the tortured soul that lay beneath. A soul that had loved and lost too much. A soul that was tired of fighting for life's promises, only to find them false. An old man's tired eyes looked out of the captain's young face. He closed them for a moment, as though he were trying to keep the anguish at bay. Too late. Peter had seen it. Worse, Peter had felt it. Had been held captive to it as it seeped through the screen and held Peter's throat in a strangle hold.

God, he couldn't breathe.

"I didn't come here today to offer a plan," Captain Rogers continued, his trembling hands coming to rest on the podium. "I don't pretend to know how we, the survivors, are supposed to move on. How we will achieve our future, or what it might look like. I came to apologize." An iron hand clenched Peter's stomach. "The purpose of the Avengers was to protect the Earth and its people from danger, and we failed to do that. I failed to do that," he amended. No, Peter thought that he had it right the first time. They had failed. The Avengers was not a one-man organization. In the years before Mr. Stark had recruited Peter, the Avengers had been a united front. But now only one stood to face the world and its judgment, armed with nothing more than words. It felt sickening to watch. "I don't have the words to express how sorry I am for the profound loss of life-"

Peter's finger tapped the screen, pausing the video. He couldn't listen anymore. Knots twisted painfully in his throat, as his gaze lingered on the still frame of Captain America's face.

Don't look down. They'll tear him to shreds. Despite his own warning, Peter's treacherous eyes trailed down to the comments section.

'Sorry? Are the words of a war criminal worth anything?'

'My mom is gone. She crumbled right in front of me. I can't forgive you.'

Small blessings. Peter didn't see May go. That comment stung. Why was he doing this? What was wrong with him?

'Are the Avengers still a thing?'

'Where's Tony Stark in all of this? The guy's ghosting us right now? Seriously?'

Yes, he was ghosting the world to babysit a teenager. If Peter wasn't so miserable, he would be embarrassed.

'Give the guy a break! He's grieving just like the rest of us! Iron Man is just a man.'

Below the text, a link to the Daily Bugle was included. And below that, one reply:

'"Iron Man is just a man"? Is that 2018's "Leave Britney alone"?'

A bark of breathy laughter escaped Peter as he clicked on the link. Oh, God. He shouldn't have laughed at that. It was so inappropriate. He was definitely going to hell for that, but still, he was pleasantly surprised that anyone could still have a sense of humour as the world was set ablaze.

Tony Stark Retires from Hero Work AND Stark Industries?

The headline dashed all thoughts from Peter's mind and rendered it blank. This was… speculation, right? Mr. Stark hadn't really gone out much since his return to Earth, but that didn't mean he was retiring indefinitely. Peter would know, wouldn't he? He lived with the guy. Retirement seemed like something that would come up in conversation.

'Well, it can certainly be said that Tony Stark doesn't do anything by half measures. We have seen instances of Stark's extreme commitment to impulsive decisions in the past, such as his initial decision to change the direction of Stark Industries in 2008. Now, it would seem that abandonment of the people that he swore to protect is the new impulse that he is indulging.'

Peter was gripping his phone too tight, and he made an effort to loosen his grip lest he break it. Who the hell was this wannabe, hack news reporter to trash Mr. Stark's name like that? A deep breath helped to smooth Peter's pinched brow, but it did nothing to dispel the heated flush creeping up his collar.

'Not only has Iron Man decided to hang up his helmet, but it would seem that Tony Stark is also retiring from his own company. Unfortunately, Stark has declined all invitations for interviews. Instead, a single written statement was released by the billionaire, a few days after his return to Earth. According to his statement, Tony Stark has '… formally resigned from the Avengers and [is] no longer affiliated with the organization in any way… [He has] decided to retire from [his] work in order to take time to be with [his] family.' Though it is unclear whether the 'work' that Mr. Stark refers to is his hero work or his work designing and engineering technology for his company, it is undeniable that we, the public, are left to fend for ourselves.'

No.

That couldn't be right. Peter reread the statement, Mr. Stark's own words, once, twice, and then a third time. It was the same each time. No secret meaning was revealed. He didn't miss anything. His eyes glazed over, turning the text into black blurs on white light.

Mr. Stark had quit the Avengers. That shouldn't have surprised Peter, but it did. Mr. Stark hadn't said in as many words that he was going to quit, but his body language and the way he interacted with the team… there was too much bad blood there. Too much distrust to salvage a team. Peter understood that. It made sense that Mr. Stark wouldn't stay with them… and yet an ember of resentment flared inside of him. The same one that was lit the first time Mr. Stark had told him to accept this reality, that it was permanent, that he had to move on. The same one that was stoked by Dr. Banner's pitying gaze, Ms. Potts' soft touches, and Captain Rogers' resigned expression.

They had given up.

All of them.

Mr. Stark's statement was proof that he had given up too. Peter couldn't be mad at that. He willed himself not to be despite his heated cheeks, because Mr. Stark had earned his retirement. He deserved it more than anyone. He had given so much to the world and he was lucky enough to still have his fiancée alive and waiting for him. They wanted a life together, and they should have it.

Peter tried not to think about the sentiment behind Mr. Stark's decision. The unsaid but obvious belief that no one that they had lost could be save. That May couldn't be saved. That there wasn't even a chance. He tried to bury it under the surface. Mr. Stark wanted to be with his family, and given the miracle that Ms. Potts was still alive, he would be an idiot to squander that time.

His family.

The words came in to sharp focus just as his phone went to sleep and the screen went dark. They sat like a weight on Peter's chest and he squirmed uncomfortably to shake the feeling. They were Mr. Stark's words, no doubt chosen for the sake of brevity. To say that he wanted 'to be with his soon-to-be wife and orphaned intern', was too wordy. It would clutter up an otherwise concise statement.

Pulling the headphones from his ears, Peter tossed them and the phone on to the blanket beside him. A new concoction of feelings roiled in him, and added fuel to his previous worries. There would be no sleep tonight, but then again Peter hadn't really been expecting it. He nudged his phone again and the time lit up and disappeared like a slow pulse.

4:55 am.

In an hour and a half, the sun would rise and it would be tomorrow without today fully ending. The lines blur together, but who cares.

Wash, rinse, repeat.