the-ss-starker-blog

[the-ss-starker-blog]

You right. Sorry Pepper, Peter has took your place. It's time for you leave 👉🚪

STARKER CULTURE

ps: don’t spoil it

[the-ss-starker-blog]

Hey guys. This is the first fic I'm ever posting. Well, the revision. I posted this one before, but it was soooo cringey. Credits to @dono-harm-totonystark . They helped me revise this fic. Thank you soooooooo much to them. They are an incredible person, absolutely perfect, and just all around a great person. All credits actually. They are amazing. Anyways, this fic has angst and singing in it. It involves my absolute favorite song. I love this song because I feel like it's what is actually happening to me. Like my whole being is speaking out to it. Here's the song if you want to hear it before to have a reference on what the lyrics are and how the song sounds like

Antidote by Faith Marie

Peter's sitting on his bed, quiet and completely still. There's a pitter-patter of the rain against the window, the drops reforming into streams on the glass. He focuses on the sound, the tranquility it brings; the peace he searches for every time his emotions threaten to get the better of him. Like now, as his fist clenched tightly, knuckles turning white. He shuts his eyes tight trying not to cry.

Uncle Ben's death, and then Flash's bullying lights up painfully in his mind. Failing as Spider-Man courses along, right next to the feeling of inferiority to the other Avengers. Like the blinking of a light bulb. Coming and going with no end until fixed. Fixed with tools Peter himself doesn't have. He looks down at the scars. Those ugly scars created just a few minutes ago. A worried thought about what the others, especially Tony, might think, flashes through his head, but he brushes it aside with a wry chuckle. There was nothing to worry about, no reason to care. They'll be gone in a few hours.

Blink.

His fists clench immediately.

Blink.

And then jaw, too. Okay, he's had enough. He stands up slowly, almost mechanically, going to the day room, to the cream-white piano that has been there ever since he could remember and probably much longer. There are many ways people try to deal with their demons. Peter, he turns to music. He wouldn’t consider himself good, but rather decent at best. Sitting down on the soft cushions of the bench, he tenderly opens the dusty lid and brushes his fingers on the keys. With everything going on in his mind, there's only one song he can play.

"Find refuge in my own lies..." he starts softly, setting a key as his fingers tentatively press down. "How are you doing, alright? Small talk is a great disguise. Just let me be, just let me be,”

Peter ended is softly. Then starting again a little louder.

"Empty thoughts start to crowd..." Peter's breath hitches, so he clears his throat. "...my mind. I'm I only living, living to survive? Shake it off, but I've lost the drive. Just let me be, just let me be. Let me be ok.”

Swiftly moving his fingers down the row of keys, Peter continues with bolder, darker sounds.

“No one knows what goes on up inside my head.There's a new kind of poison and it's starting to spread,”

Fingers move quickly, keep in time with his singing.

“No one knows what goes on up inside my head, They don't think I need help, but I'm scaring myself I just want to be ok.

I just want to be ok.”

Notes go up and down and up and down and then set into a steady pattern.

“All the voices in my head are coming to life. They're getting louder and I'm terrified,”

He closes his eyes, body trembling with the rhythm of the song. He puts all his pain into the next verse.

“How do you run from your own mind? Is this what I've become? Take it back what have I done,”

He reaches the end of that long high note, his fingers come crashing down, like a strike of lightning, evoking an even darker and richer sound.

“No one knows what goes on up inside my head. There's a new kind of poison and it's starting to spread. No one knows what goes on up inside my head, They don't think I need help,But I'm scaring myself. I just want to be ok.

I just want to be ok.”

Three soft, light, notes come quickly. They lead into a softer tone. Connecting the harsh and hurtful to the delicate and anguish. Peter starts again, in a more breathy tone

“No one knows what goes on up inside my head, There is a new kind of poison and starting to spread, But I didn’t think the antidote was in my hands. I can change my plans, I can change my plans. I tried to find my reflection on the glass,”

Peter's voice cracks and quivers, his words breathless, lips trembling.

“But all I ever saw were the things I lacked. All the smudges on the mirror made me go insane. All I ever thought I was…

Was a mistake.”

His eyes shut tight. The line's so quiet and fragile, it cracks apart on his tongue. He can feel the tears flowing down his face but it's like they're wept by someone else. Drip, drip, drip. One after another. His throat hurts when he forces his voice out again.

“No one knows what goes on up inside my head, There's a new kind of poison and it's starting to spread. No one knows what goes on up inside my head. Up inside my head.

Up inside my head.”

The song now ends softly on the last key. Peter lets his arms fall limply to his lap. He was done with the song, done with life, and so done with the demons that threatened to control him every minute of the day. He's just done. And then he cracks, breaks down into sobs, shoulders shaking violently under the onslaught.

Suddenly warm, familiar arms wrap around him like a blanket, and all he can hear is the shaky heartbeat and soft 'shh's and strangled words. He leans into all of it, just crying harder into Tony's chest.

"God, Peter..." Tony nearly chokes on the words. "I forgot how beautiful that thing sounds when someone handles it with love." He lets out a shaky breath. "I forgot how it feels to be at home."

He puts the boy at arms length and looks into his tearful eyes. He wipes his cheeks, gaze falling to his slumped shoulders, then tense, shaky arms, then finally the scars on his wrists. He swallows his own tears back as he glances at the piano. The piano that was right there, just gathering dust. The piano his mother played so he could fall asleep to the warm, murmuring sounds. The piano that he hadn't heard since that day. Tony lets his tears fall as he kisses the top of his boyfriend's head, tightens the hold on the lover he couldn't be luckier to have, and he can't think of what to do other than whisper,

“It's going to be okay.”