is it death, or is it grace?

Peter takes a step forward.

Breathes.

Peers down to the busy streets, trying to ignore the steady pounding of his heart, drowning and drowning his mind's cries.

He's tired. He's so, so tired.

Just another step, and he'll... fall.

He's so, so, so close to the edge, that if he just leans-

"Kid?"

Peter startles.

He turns, eyes wide and movements stiff.

"Mr Stark."