In that moment, Peter was enveloped in blankets, but he had never felt more cold.

'He's mad at you.' Peter thought to himself. 'Of course he's mad at you. He was probably trying to have a quiet night, maybe get some extra sleep, but then your fat ass came along and ruined his night.'

Peter buried himself further into his mound of plush blankets. 'God dammit, you're worthless! Can you not see? You couldn't even save Uncle Ben.'

Peter's mind was screaming at him. 'They probably don't even want you. May doesn't want you, she never wanted you! She and Ben had to take you in. They didn't want you. They never wanted you. Nobody ever wants you.'

He's tried closing his eyes, but all he could see was Uncle Ben's bleeding, lifeless body laying along the cold, filthy sidewalk of New York.

'You're the reason Ben died! You're the reason Aunt May is sad! It's your fault, it's all your fault!' His mind roared.

Peter whimpered into his blankets, more tears leaking from his eyes.

'There you go again, cry like the little baby you are! Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. You don't deserve half of what you have. There's only one thing in the world that you actually deserve. And that's a blade slicing through your skin.'

Peter heard footsteps heading his way. Quickly, he dried to tears from his cheeks with a blanket and then uncovered his head.

"Thank you," Peter whispered as Tony carefully handed him a large, black MIT mug.

'Jesus,' Tony thought. Peter looked terrible. His eyes were sad and red from crying, he had started trembling again, and there were heavy bags under his eyes.

"Don't mention it," Tony sighed as he sat himself down on a couch diagonal from Peter.

Tony sipped his coffee. "You going to tell me what happened?" Peter hid his face behind his mug. "Pete, I'm not mad. I'm not disappointed. I'm not angry with you, and I understand this is a hard thing to talk about, sorry, but avoiding this discussion is not an option."

"Tony...it's just...Flash, he..." Peter tripped over his words. Tony looked at him with a encouraging nod, as if to tell him it's okay. "Uncle Ben died...because of me."

Tony sat quietly.

"It's my fault Tony," Peter whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. "If I'd just- if I'd been a better nephew, Ben would still be breathing."

Tears were beginning to fall from his eyes. "A-And this kid, Flash, he...he likes to do things to me, likes to call me things. He said I'm worthless and useless. Weak and pathetic. A-And he's right."

"M-My friend, MJ, last year, before w-we were f-friends, s-she heard me cry in the bathroom, and she found me c-cutting. She made me promise n-not to cut again, a-and I-I did promise. But I'm weak, and it was a b-bad d-day and th-the voices are back in my head and-and I needed to cut, I just needed to- and I'm really, r-really sorry." He whimpered.

Peter suddenly felt a dip in the couch cushion. He looked up to find Tony sitting beside him, unraveling his blankets. Tony gently pulled Peter's mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry I c-can't d-do things write. I'm so sorry th-that I'm weak and useless. You told m-me to be better, a-and I'm sorry that I'm not." Tony could literally feel his heart shatter and his stomach twist.

"No, Peter. No," Tony whispered softly as he pulled Peter's head into his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Peter repeated into Tony's chest. His body was shaking violently in Tony's arms. Peter's tears were soaking Tony's old Black Sabbath shirt, but the last thing Tony cared about right now was his shirt.

"Hey, hey, It's okay, Peter, it's okay. Everything is okay." Tony used his soft, gentle voice as he rubbed comforting circles on his back.

Peter whimpered again. "Please, Tony, I'm sorry, d-don't leave me. Please," Peter's small, tiny voice cracked with every syllable.

"I'll stay right here, okay?" Peter snuggled deeper into Tony chest. Peter sniffled, his body still trembling.

"Peter...believe me when I say that I have seen stupid person. I have seen weak and pathetic person, you are not of those person. Needing help does not mean you are weak, it means that you are strong enough to ask." Tony softly pushed Peter back from his chest, locking eyes with the boy.

"I don't know much about your uncles death. But, I do know that you certainly are not the reason for his death." Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Tony wasn't having it.

"Did you tell him to fire the gun?" Tony says with authority.

"N-No, but-"

"Did you push him into the bullet?"

"Well, n-no."

"Did you pull the trigger?"

"No-"

"Then you did not kill Ben." Tony confirmed. "Pete, there's always going to be someone who doesn't live through your fights, no matter how hard you try. It sucks, I know it does, but the reality of this, is that you can't save everyone."

Peter fiddled with the bottom of his hoodie. "B-But I can try."

"Kid, you've tried. You work your hardest, I know you do, and you save a boat load of people too, but you can't always save everybody. For every 1 person that dies, you save 100 more people. It isn't fair, but nothing ever really is." Tony pulled Peter onto his lap again and Peter nestled himself into Tony's chest.

"And I don't want to hear any of this "I'm sorry" bullshit. Peter, when I told you I wanted you to be better, it didn't mean you weren't good enough. I meant that I didn't want you to make the same mistakes I made."

Peter rested his head against Tony's arc reactor.

"You are not worthless. You are not useless. You are not weak, pathetic, stupid, or any of the other things Flash calls you. Listen, I wouldn't have made the suit for you if I didn't think you were good enough. I wouldn't let you keep coming to the tower and the lab if I didn't like you."

Peter pulled himself out of Tony's embrace, then laying down on the couch, resting his head on Tony's lap.

"And kid, if this happens again, call me. Text me. You could talk to Ned or this MJ character or May. Hell, even call Happy if you need to. Just don't deal with this on your own. We want to help you, we care about you...I care about you Peter." Tony found himself combing his fingers through Peter's soft brown hair.

"You can always come and talk to me, always. Bud, I want you to be safe. So does Ned and May and even Happy." Peter tilted his head in Tony's lap.

"Happy said he doesn't like me." Peter said weakly.

Tony felt a little prick in his chest. "He asks about you, if you don't call or text him for a while. He asks where you are and if you're injured. I've even caught him looking at the suit vitals before. He worries about you, kid. He cares for you, and if you needed someone to talk to, he will be there for you."

Peter was beginning to drift off.

"Pete?"

"Mhmm?" Peter mumbled sleepily.

"You are enough."

Tony carefully bent down and softly kissed Peter's forehead.

Peter was better with Tony here. Tony wouldn't let anything hurt him.