Peter let himself free fall but before he got to close to the ground, he shot out a web and caught a building, swinging in a wide arc. He didn't have a destination in mind; he just wanted to put distance between him and the tower. Swooping lower, he shot a web at a nearby streetlight and swung himself with a flip into the air, landing on top of it.

He really wished he had a plan.

A noise behind him made him internally sigh. It was the distinct sound of Tony's suit. He didn't even want to look. He knew he was in for shit.

"Incoming call from Mr. Stark," Karen said pleasantly.

"Ignore it," Peter said. "Don't answer any calls."

"Command overridden. Connecting now."

Peter groaned and braced himself. He had no idea what Tony was going to say, but he doubted it would be good.

"Peter," Tony greeted. "I think since you just officially shaved ten years off my life with that stunt, I think you owe it to me to stop fucking swinging around the city and get back to the tower. Now!"

Peter cringed. "Karen—"

"Don't even think of trying to end the call."

Peter sighed and shot out a web, swinging back toward the tower. He was probably going to regret this, but really, what were his other options? It's not like Peter could throw down with Tony in the streets. He just wished he'd understand, understand how it was all too much sometimes and how this was just not making shit any better.

He didn't see what the problem really was anyway. Who was he hurting by trying to forget? It wasn't like it harmed anyone. He just wished the world would leave him alone. He knew Tony drank and popped Xanax. What made it okay for him and not Peter?

Peter climbed the tower slowly, Iron Man hovering ever close behind him. It figured he wasn't going to let him out of his sight.

Peter pulled himself up onto the balcony, and Tony landed behind him.

"Inside, all the way," Tony said flatly.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept any sarcastic comments to himself. Tony followed him inside, not ditching the suit until Peter was inside and the door was locked behind them.

Tony strolled over to the bar and grabbed a glass, pouring himself a finger of scotch. He glanced back over his shoulder at Peter. "Can I get you one?"

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "So, this is what you wanted? Bring me back here to mock me?"

Tony turned around, leaning against the bar, looking tired, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Peter really couldn't remember a time he saw the man look so worn down by life. "I'm just trying to understand, Peter." He sighed. "You had it all. Why give it all up to get high and drunk?"

Peter walked over to the couch and plopped down. "Says the man drinking to solve his own shitty problems."

"Fuck, Peter!" Tony set the glass down. "What is your problem with me?" He walked over and sat across from Peter, arms resting on his knees, full attention on him. He raked a hand over his face. "What's going on with you?"

"It's just too much, okay?"

"What is?" Tony asked. "School, Spider-Man, me, what?"

"All of it plus some, alright?" Peter leaned back against the plush cushions and closed his eyes, drawing a slow, deep breath to steady himself. "It just helps, okay? It lets me forget for a while. It numbs me. I really don't see the issue."

Tony sighed. "How long?"

Peter shrugged. "Since Toomes got sentenced. Liz was gone. Flash has been on my case. God, and May, she's trying so hard to pay the bills and now this; it's going to kill her."

"Easy, Kid," Tony said. "May will be alright."

Peter sat upright. "No, she won't. You don't know her. She'll blame herself. What am I supposed to do?"

"We'll figure this out, okay? Trust me. We'll get you help. I promised her already I'd take care of you."

"You what?"

"You need help, Peter."

Peter stood up and walked away from Tony. "Why is it okay for you to self-medicate but not me?"

"Oh, I don't know … because I am a fucking adult, Peter?" Tony snapped. "You're not even sixteen yet and downing cocktails. I think it's a bit different."

Peter went to open his mouth to argue, but Tony put up a hand. "Look, I get it. You are going through some shit. We all are, but you can't do this. You're too young. I don't want you ending up like me, okay? I'm not someone you should aspire to be. I'm a mess. You're right; I drink away my feelings." Tony sighed, looking tired. "I want more for you. Please, Peter. Let me help you."

Peter looked at Tony, really looked at him. He'd never seen the man so vulnerable, and it just sucked the anger out of him. Peter was tired, and he just couldn't fight anymore. Deep down, he didn't want it to be like this. He used to want more. He used to be happy. Maybe he should trust Tony.

"Okay," Peter whispered finally, breaking the silence.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I guess maybe you're right. I need help. I don't like who I am anymore."

Tony walked over to Peter and wrapped him in a hug, pulling back to look him in the eye, squeezing his shoulders. "That, that was a hug. I think we're there now. Don't you?"

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered.

"It's gonna be okay, Peter. You might feel lost right now, but I promise it will get better."

Peter nodded, traitorous tears beginning to prick at his eyes. "What if I can't do it?"

"Look at me, Peter," Tony said. "You can, but I won't sugar coat this. Withdrawals are a bitch, but I know you. I know you're strong enough to handle whatever this brings. Now, why don't you lay down on the couch while I go call Happy to collect your things then we'll head up the compound."

"Thanks, Tony, and I'm sorry for, you know, being such a jerk earlier." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "And for jumping."

Tony just drew a breath and nodded. "Go lay down and rest. I'll be back soon, and we'll head out. I have some calls to make."

Peter walked over to the couch and plopped down. He was nervous about the future and hurting from the past, and the worst part was, he just wanted a drink. Peter closed his eyes and tried to block out the cycling thoughts of what was to come. He focused on the faith Tony had in him because truthfully, he wasn't feeling any faith in himself.