Needless to say, the walk to the car was achingly silent.

"Did you...?" Tony turns to Peter and asks the question hanging thick in the air. If Aunt May's death was the elephant in the room, there was also some neon signs with flashing arrows added for good measure.

Peter's eyes stayed rooted firmly on the ground, and he acted as if he had never heard Tony's question. He was both wrapped up in thought and distrustful of his voice not to betray the rising lump in his throat.

"Peter?"

"I didn't know, okay!" Peter finally turns to Tony. He knows he shouldn't be yelling, but he's feeling so many emotions that he can only push them out of his head through a raised voice.

"I understand that you're probably upset, Peter, but-" Tony's voice is level. Calm.

"You don't understand! I'm not mad that she's dead." Peter spits. "I'm just furious that I don't remember killing her." There's a darkness behind his eyes that wafts to the front of his normally kind eyes. It sends the coldest chill through Tony's body. He has faced his handful of villains, but never before in his life has he seen such unbridled rage coursing unrepentantly through the eyes of someone.

"You don't mean that, Peter. Of course you want her gone-"

"Stop putting words in my mouth." Peter's voice turns flat and angry, filled with the luster of partially calm rage.

"I will, but you have to let me get a-"

"I hate myself so much." Peter says, shaking his head. He starts to walk, tears pouring from his eyes. He doesn't entirely understand why they're there. Are they from the news of Aunt May's death? From his regret of yelling at his new dad? From an overload of emotion that leaves his brain crackling with static?

Whatever it is, it's making his entire body run haywire, and he has to get out of there. Now. So, he moves his legs faster until he's sprinting. He flicks his wrist and he's sailing away. Away from the tears welling up in Tony's disappointed eyes, and away from Pepper's pitiful, sad expression. Away from the reporters and their flashing cameras, and away from the life that forces him to be strong all the time.

He swings through the city, the suit materializing around his body as he flies through the air. A new feature integrated into the suit that Peter found particularly handy. He's not focusing on where's he's going; it's hard enough swinging with tears in your eyes and your head swelling with emotion.

As if by memory, he ends in the alleyway just outside his old apartment. The one that he shared with May before the entire ordeal happened. From the ground of the alley, he can see that the window to his room is cracked. Before thinking, he's up on the window sill and forcing the window open. He drops into the room so lightly that the carpet hardly shifts.

The apartment has since been removed of all items left behind. Furniture, random trash, and the Lego Death Star that he left Tony as a clue are now only memories of the room. Peter sits against the wall, resting his head against it. He yanks the mask off and throws it against the wall across from him. His head falls into his hands, and the violent sobs rack his shoulders up and down and hurt his throat as they squeeze from his eyes.

She's dead. She's really gone. Gone forever. She can't hurt you anymore. She's gone. Dead.

No matter how Peter says it in his head, it still hurts. But why does it hurt? He wanted her dead. In fact, he wished it upon her. But, he also said that he never wanted to be the one to kill her. A memory of them sitting on the floor and laughing in front of the TV surfaces in Peter's mind.

Takeout dinners, movie nights, game nights, kitchen cooking mishaps, and late-night talking sessions are tugged with it. The good memories, the times before everything was complicated and so black-and-white. Looking at the May in those memories is like looking at a completely different person. Someone whose eyes don't contain invisible daggers and hidden malice. Looking back at the good memories lets Peter forget about everything that has happened in the past few months.

"I..." Peter starts to talk out loud to the silent air before feeling stupid. She can't hear him, but it has to be worth something, right?

"I don't know how to say anything to you. Not anymore. But I guess I owe it to you to try." Peter's voice is thick with tears, and they still flow freely from his eyes.

"I hate you. I really do. I don't think that I'll ever forgive you for what you've put me through, for what you've put my family through. But that's okay, because you wouldn't want or deserve my forgiveness. I hate what you turned into, for what you became. But that's okay too, because I guess I kind of created that for you. I was the one that single-handedly destroyed our relationship, so I guess that I only have myself to blame for that.

"But I'm just so confused. Because I'm sure that you hated me, for whatever reason you had, but I still can't help but be sad that you're gone. Despite you being a horrible person to me these past few months, you're still my aunt. I'll never stop being your nephew, even in death. I guess we'll always have that connection. But now I can have my life in peace, and I don't have to worry about you. So I'm relieved. But I also feel guilty, because I can't shake the feeling that it's partly my fault. And I'm angry that I let it happen, but also that it didn't happen sooner.

"So pain, sadness, anger, relief, guilt, and also disappointment because I took it out on Mr. Stark. And that wasn't great. He just announced that he wants to officially adopt me, and now..." Peter's head hits the wall again and he stops making an effort to wipe away the tears.

"I guess what I really need to do is just say goodbye. And maybe I'll go to a funeral, if we even have one, but I won't say anything. I'll go, but only for the good memories. Nothing more." Peter closes his eyes and wipes away the tears. After a few seconds of silence, he quietly whispers, "I won't forget you."

A knock sounds on the door, firm and distressed. With a small smile, Peter wipes his eyes and goes to answer the door. He barely opens it a centimeter before Tony pushes it open the rest of the way.

"What were you thinking?!" He cries, pacing back and forth. "I could have lost you, and that outburst--we'll talk about that later-- but running away like that? That's not okay, Peter! It's barely been twenty minutes, and I've already been worried sick. I was trying to figure out forever where you were, and I nearly had a heart attack trying to figure out where you would go. I tried to ask FRIDAY to track the suit, but it's on such low power, and that's another thing-" Tony doesn't get to finish his parental rant, because Peter launches himself into Tony's arms, squeezing the life out of him. Tony stiffens for a second, before hugging Peter back again.

"What happened back there, kid?"

"I'm not... ready to talk about it." Peter admits after a second.

"It's alright." Tony hugs him tighter, resting his chin on Peter's head. "Let me know whenever you are."

"I will." Peter releases pressure the tiniest bit so he can look up at Tony and smile. "I'm sorry I ruined your day."

"Kid, having you in my day at all makes it impossible to ruin."