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If there's one thing in the world that Peter Parker loved, it was music, specifically, singing.
There was always a certain magic that came with music, even when he was only a toddler, that drew him to it. It was a representation of his childhood and maybe one of the only things he had left of the people he lost.
His parents were a loving pair, who loved each other just as much as they loved their son. Even as a young child, Peter knew that his parents were hopelessly in love. It was evident with the way they cooked meals or chatted at the end of the day during dinner or the occasional slow dance in the living room that Peter never failed to join after a few songs.
Music tied him to his parents, in a way. His mother, Mary, had loved Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline, always saying that it reminded her of her childhood in Boston and his father, Richard, had adored Jazz with fervor.
Peter had grown to love the music they always happened to sing or play on their old record player in the living room.
That was why coping with the eerie quiet that had been a result of his parents' early death was so hard for the child. Their sudden and early death had hit Peter hard, especially for his young age of seven. For a while, their loss had rendered Peter silent, unwilling to sing to a house without his parents.
Peter didn't sing for three months, barely coping with the loss but luckily, his uncle, Ben, who he had started living with, stepped up to the mantle.
Ben understood, of course, that the loss of one's parents were hard. The unexpected loss of his brother and sister-in-law was too sudden and the man hadn't had the chance to even try to cope because his nephew, his sweet, sweet nephew was quiet.
If there's one thing he knew that was reflected in both his and his brother's households, it was that a quiet house was not a home. Parkers loved singing and he knew for a fact that his nephew adored music just as much as his brother did.
So, to see his nephew quiet, curling into himself, made it even more heartbreaking.
As such, Ben did the only thing he knew to do.
He sang Peter a song.
Ben's voice was gruff, the song he was singing echoing cleanly around the room. It was new to Peter; his uncle had never sang near him before but, it was… familiar, in a sense.
Despite their obvious differences, both in stature, attitude, features and vocal ability, Ben still sounded so much like Peter's father. Sure, it was different, that much was clear, but, it was also familiar in a way.
Parkers loved music and Ben sounded like home and memories; of happiness and grief and so much more.
It sounded like family.
And so, it was only natural that Peter sang along with him too.
Of course, with Peter Parker's love and adoration for music, it was only natural that his vigilante persona, Spider-man, did too.
When he was first starting out, Spider-man would hum, a habit that Peter developed young. He would hum anything that came to mind - the laundry commercial, the soundtrack of the latest movie he watched, the current songs Ned and MJ were obsessed with, you name it. As long as it stuck, he'd hum it unconsciously until he'd find a different song to play on loop.
A few months later, as he had started to settle in the pace of balancing his vigilante sidegig and school, Peter had started to sing too, not that anyone noticed, given his unorthodox travel habits, it had gotten lost in the wind.
It wasn't until he encountered his first assault case that Peter realized, however, that music could calm not just his nerves, but other people's too. Quickly, he found that distraction was the optimal solution when trying to calm a person down. So, as he tried to calm down the girl that was hyperventilating from the almost-rape incident that happened a few minutes prior, he had started to sing.
The song wasn't anything special, just a little tune that his aunt May liked to hum as she double-checked everything on her way out to work, but it had been stuck in Peter's head the whole day. So, he had started to sing it without much thought.
It wasn't anything special but, it had set a precedent.
Soon, it became common knowledge to people who followed him closely that Spider-man, when calming down the people he saved, sang a lot. It became his go-to comfort tactic.
However, it wasn't until someone posted a video of the hero singing after a particularly bad day of patrol that it was emphasized on.
A netizen had captured the moment on camera silently and had posted it on twitter for the rest of the world to see.
In the video, Spider-man had just sent off an ambulance carrying a child he had rescued after a week-long search. The kid was critical, the paramedics only barely finding a pulse, and was en route to the nearest hospital.
It was unspoken that both the audience and the hero were aware that the child would not make it to the hospital alive, given the poor thing's injuries.
As such, Spider-man sits on the edge of the roof, quietly singing, the reds of his costume made more pronounced by the blood of a child.
His voice was haunting, singing the song with so much emotion and sorrow, grieving over the child he had spent a week searching for.
The netizens didn't know it but they were watching Spider-man grieve for his first ever casualty on the job.
They watched him send off a child to the afterlife.
This moment was pivotal for Queens, despite the devastating scene and sheer grief in the words sung by a hero dripping with blood.
Because, objectively, they all knew that Spider-man cared for the people, evident from his actions over the past few months, but it wasn't until this moment, as people all over the city watched their hero grieve over a single life lost, that they had finally realized that Spider-man truly, honest-to-god, cared for the people of Queens.
This marked the day that he was acknowledged and the day he received his title.
They started calling him, Spider-man, the hero of the people.
It was a title that he had, in the months that followed, never fell short to uphold.
And…
(The paramedic searched frantically for a pulse, muttering a small player.
Just a beat. Please, just a beat.
He would find none.
Because Spider-man loved to sing, to tap out beats and hum along to his footsteps.
Spider-man loved to sing and to dance and to breathe.
But, for once, there is no beat.
No offkey humming. No lyrics. No melody. No singing. No beat.
And…
No life.
He was dead.
And the paramedic would turn around, to the people in the surrounding area, all with their eyes closed and hands clasped, all muttering, just a beat, please, just a beat , and he would tell them no. Instead, he would give them a small, devastated shake of his head to signify that the hero, Spider-man, was no longer alive.
Spider-man was dead.
And…
Suddenly, the world was too quiet.)
It was a title that he had, in the months that followed, never fell short to uphold.
And…
It was a title he died upholding.
(and for a brief second, as the people of New York City read the headlines on their phones and watched the broadcast in Times Square, the world freezes.
Spider-man was dead.
And with him, a little bit of New York died too.
Because Spider-man was dead.
There were no back-ups, no dead villains, no casualties.
Only a dead hero.
Spider-man had died saving 32 children, had stood in front of them, a human shield, as he battled the villain fiercely, had put himself in between the villain and children and continued to smile and joke and hum, reassuring the people around him even as he started to bleed out to death.
Watching it in detail, they all knew that Spider-man knew that that was it. They saw him realize that his body was giving up on him, his movements growing sluggish. They could see him square his shoulders and breathe out a small, devasted breath. They watched him steel himself, resigned.
Spider-man was dead.
But the children behind him didn't have a single scratch on their bodies.)
The death of Peter Parker doesn't hit Tony Stark until he was alone in the lab, surrounded by unfinished tech that had the signature of a dead hero.
It doesn't hit him until DUM-E comes clambering toward him, clicking and whirring energetically as normal, turning every which way and that, searching, because today was a lab day - Thursday - and Peter is supposed to be here but he wasn't, so, where is he, the AI asked silently.
And it isn't until Tony quietly sinks to the floor, giving the whirring robot a pat, resting his head against its cold metal, and whispered, "he's not here anymore, bud. Pete's not here anymore" that he finally breaks.
His child, Peter, Peter Parker, was dead.
And as he listened to a robot that had no emotions but was currently whirring with despair, Tony started to sob.
("Hey Pete, what was that song you were you singing out on patrol again? That one that trended a bit ago?"
"Oh, you mean the one I was singing last week?"
"Yeah, it was really nice, I might put it in a playlist or something, you know?"
"Why?"
Turning to his puzzled son, Tony pauses his tinkering, giving him a confused stare, as if expecting Peter to understand, "Because you like it? You sing really well, Pete, and besides, you sounded like you liked the song."
"I do!"
"Yeah, what's it called?")
His kid wasn't here anymore.
And suddenly…
Suddenly, the world wasn't as bright as it used to be.
They find the holograms three days after his death, stashed under his bed meticulously.
Peter Parker's death was sudden, unbelievable, and unfathomable.
Because Peter Parker wasn't supposed to be someone who died.
He was supposed to be alive.
He was supposed to be here .
But… he isn't.
And that was hard to get to terms with.
They had always thought that it would be Peter burying them one day and not the other way around.
But life had its own plans and it was cruel.
They find the holograms in a beautiful metal box embossed with his iconic spider symbol, each carefully stored.
Peter Parker's death was something no one prepared for, that no one anticipated. It was sudden, unexpected.
That is, no one but Peter Parker prepared for it.
Because located in a metal box underneath his bed was a set of holograms, each addressed to important people in Peter's life, with a bundle of letters addressed to each person.
Peter Parker had always been a spontaneous person, despite his analytical brain. He loved to do things for the sake of doing and live in the moment as much as possible. But, on things that count, Peter Parker was also prepared.
After all, to be a hero is to be destined to die a hero.
It was only a matter of when.
So, instead of stewing in an existential dilemma, Peter had stood up and started to prepare.
"May?"
Happy walked out of their room carefully, startled by the sob May let out in the living room.
Seeing his wife crying, he quickly joined her and asked again, "May?" but is only met with a small devastated shake of her head.
"What’s wrong?"
Sobbing, she managed to choke out, "it's Peter."
Peter? What happened to the kid? Happy swore he watched him leave for patrol on time.
The kid was fine.
Right?
Right?
"He's dead, hun. M-my baby is dead."
People had always told him that losing someone, losing family was like losing the world. Every time, Happy would only nod politely, not quite understanding the statement yet.
But, he had grown to learn that there are moments when words couldn't quantify the pain; couldn’t possibly express his devastation.
So, he had supposed that he understood them to an extent.
He was wrong.
Because losing people, losing Peter Parker didn't feel like losing the world.
The world was too little.
The universe was too little.
Because Peter, sweet, kind Peter, the kid he had grown to adore just as much as his wife, who called him uncle Happy and walked his wife down the aisle, who saved and loved and breathed so genuinely, was always meant for bigger things, meant to shine and to leave to world in his dust.
Because Peter Parker was dead and they were all wrong.
The pain wasn't like losing the world because Peter was supposed to be the best of them, was the best of them. He was meant to live and to grow and to sing.
But, he isn't.
He isn't.
And it was unimaginable.
It was unfathomable.
And…
"He was just here."
It was real.
"He was just here."
There are moments where words don't quantify the pain.
Peter Parker was dead.
And all Happy Hogan could do was sink to the floor and sob quietly, hugging his wife to his side.
"If you're watching this, then that means that I'm dead… or you all are in for a very unfortunate prank. Hopefully, it's the first option." Smiling wryly, Peter tried to joke. "Because I hope to everything that no one ever sees these except for its intended purpose."
"As you may have noticed, this is my… goodbye letter, well, hologram, recording? I don't know, you get the idea, right?" Shrugging, Peter continues. "As of right now, I have finished recording all the individual messages and this one is my last. It's supposed to be a… general instruction of sorts. I guess."
Suddenly Peter's smile dimmed, losing a little of its enthusiasm, most likely thinking of his next words. "If you're seeing this, then I've died and that's… I'm sorry. Really. May, Happy, Tony, MJ, Ned, Pepper, I'm sorry. I know it'll hit you all the hardest. But, well…"
"I think it's inevitable, really."
"You know, I think I'll miss it. Flying; swinging around NYC. I love it, the air, the adrenaline, the rush. There, it's just me and everything around me dulls. But… it's gotta end sometime, you know?"
"As of this moment, my life is happy. I am happy, even if I secretly film my death messages in the middle of the night, which, now that I think about it, is kind of ominous. But, well… it's better safe than sorry."
"I'm happy but I am not dumb. In fact, I'd like to say I'm pretty darn smart, not to toot my horn or anything."
Sighing, Peter turns away from the camera, "I know that to be a superhero means to die young. I'll be lucky to live to 30, you know? And, sure, I have a lot of things I wanna do but, well… if I die young, I have no regrets."
("What does it mean?"
"Hm?" Staring at his mentor, confused, Peter asked for clarification.
"That song you were telling me about. The one last time? Why do you like it so much?
"Oh, you mean the song I sang on patrol?"
"Yeah, what does it mean?"
"Well…")
Taking a deep breath, Tony carefully tucked his shaking hands behind him, trying to appear more composed than he currently was. "He once told me that he lived a good life - was living a good life. That he was thankful for so many things. That he was making the most out of every moment in his life. He said, if I were to die young, maybe that be for someone else or an accident, I have lived my life fully, to the best of my ability, every single day. I would have no regrets."
"Above all else, Spider-man loved, wholeheartedly, with a pure innocent only present in people with good hearts."
"Spider-man's name… was Peter Parker."
The words echoed in the small café, the TV's volume turned as far up as it could go. Today, the Avengers were going to formally announce the death of Spider-man and every single person in NYC moved with unspoken grief for a lost hero, his death weighing on them heavily.
The people in the café listened quietly, no one willing to speak. Instead, they gave their full attention to Tony Stark who was dressed in a suit, his usual careless and frivolous air gone, replaced with a palpable grief only present in those who lost loved ones.
"Peter was a genius, I'd say that he was even smarter than me, and lord knows I don't say that likely," chuckling with a tone devoid of humor, Tony Stark's gaze loses focus as if reminiscing on a fond memory. "He wasn't actually making those webs with his body, you know. Made it with a bit of chemicals and a dash of ingenuity. He was brilliant, my personal assistant at SI, and had assisted in more than a hundred research projects that changed the world."
"He was kind and so, so sweet. Peter… he loved. Intensely. Every moment of every day he'd appreciate the small things in life. He said that he had no regrets. As such, I think that I should inform everyone that protecting you, the people - the little guys - was his life's goal and his greatest honor."
"Truly, Peter loved being Spider-man."
At that, the girl manning the register started to sob, distinctly remembering standing at the edge of a building on one of her darker days.
She had been stopped by a hero: Spider-man.
At the time, Spider-man had patiently sat beside her as she was catching her breath, humming quietly.
She sobbed quietly, sinking down onto the floor because she had been saved by Spider-man, her hero.
Her hero who was dead.
("When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?"
Staring at the night sky, she slumped down onto the railing, mind processing that she was right there, right there at the edge.
She was so close.
So close.
Softly, she asked, "What do I have to do?"
Giving her a soft pat, Spider-man smiled and hummed, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming,"
It was stupid.
A stupid song. She wasn't a fish and definitely didn't have short term memory loss but…
She understood what he was trying to tell her.
Chuckling tiredly, she joined in on the stupid song, despite her initial intention to ignore it. "Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming."
That's right. She just needed to hold on a little longer.)
The girl sobbed for a life lost too soon and she sobbed because, no matter what, it was the distinct sound of webs latching on to buildings and the sound of a hero whooping and yelling outside her window that allowed her to sleep at night.
She sobbed because she wouldn't be able to hear him laugh any longer.
For a while, the only thing the people at the café heard was the soft pitter-patter of tears hitting a marble countertop and soft sobs that resonated with everyone present.
It is only when Tony Stark says the next few words that the rest of the people inside the café start to sob too.
Briefly looking down, Tony Stark smiled wryly, his eyes turning red. "Queens, it was all for you."
Clapping his hands together, Peter turned around to grab something out of focus. Turning back to the camera, he held out the metal box which still lacked the outline of a spider. "First things first, I'd like to tell you what's in the box that you evidently found and what it should be really used for."
Rummaging inside, Peter took out a few papers, "Obviously, this is where I keep important things. Before, it used to store my parents' and Ben's pictures but now, I figured that it would hold a few things more important. In here, there are a few holo disks, they all hold an individually recorded message so please watch it alone or with discretion."
"They're labelled slash embossed so everyone knows which one is theirs. There's around 17 in total."
"Next are the letters. There's a lot in here, maybe a couple hundred, so I sorted them in case it's confusing."
"Essentially… they're letters for everything I'll miss, I guess. There's enough for at least 20 future birthdays and holidays for everyone, graduations, a few for when you get sad or lonely or need a pick me up. I won't be able to be there so at least, that'll be with you all."
"As of this moment of filming, Pepper's still only a few months pregnant but I do know that both Mom and Dad want to name the baby Morgan so I made enough to last them 60 birthdays and a few graduations up to their eighth PhD." Smiling sadly at the camera, Peter sighed.
"I honestly wish I'd be there with you all till the end of time but, well. I'd like to be prepared if I'm not."
"Next up are the ziploc bags. In here are receipts and checks and basically finance things. Ned helped me set it up but essentially, there are way too many people trying to give me money out on patrol or online that I decided to set up a donation box instead and send the money to causes that are important to me. I hope you'd all continue it as much as you can."
"And, lastly…" Taking out another smaller box, he said, "This has a few USB drives filled to the brim with songs that I loved and think you all would love too. They're labeled so everyone knows which playlist is theirs."
"It's a bit forward of me but… I know how hard it is to lose family but Ben and May helped me through it with music so I hope this would help you, even if it was just a smidge. They're all sung by me, by the way, so sorry, Dad, the rock covers are acoustic. Sorry 'bout that, I just can't pull off the screamy way of singing no matter how many times I try."
"Now, with that said, there's one last thing I need to say."
"I lived a good life." Turning away, Peter smiled. "It was my greatest honor to be a vigilante and then, hero. I loved every single moment working with the Avengers and the vigilantes; I've learned so much and got so far with them and it's all because of the people who helped me along the way."
"May, I love you. You are my world and have kept me standing for so long so please, don't blame yourself. I'm so glad, May, so glad, that you were able to fall in love again. So I hope that as you grieve for me, you don't lose sight of yourself as you did with Ben all those years ago. There's nothing you could have done better, alright? I love you so much."
"Happy Hogan, if you ever hurt my aunt, know that death will not stop me from murdering you. Do you understand? She is my everything so you better treat her like the queen she is."
"That said… thanks. You make her happy and by doing so, you make me happy too. You've always stood by me even in those awkward early days and for that I'm grateful. Thanks, Uncle Happy, it means a lot."
"Ned, MJ, you both are my greatest friends and probably my most thanked for blessing. You don't know how much you've helped me over the years, even when I was just some dumb kid getting bullied. Everything I have to say is in the indiv holo disks so wait for that."
"Dad, Tony, I know, probably better than anyone else, that your genius brain has probably thought up a gazillion what-if scenarios at this point so I'll say this myself and you better listen, you damn geezer. The words of the dead are wise, you know!"
"There wasn't anything that could have stopped this."
"Because if I am dead, that means that I fought the good fight. I swear to you all, I fought my hardest to come home but sometimes, fate has its plans. So, Tony, you couldn't have done anything better. I love you, Dad, I really do. Please, please , treat yourself with kindness, even if you're drowning in grief. Treat yourself like someone you love because I love you and I only love a few things in this world! You better get yourself together, old man! You have a baby on the way, you know!"
After a few more minutes of rambling, Peter slowly stopped, finishing everything he had to say. Closing his eyes, Peter started to cry. "I… I know that it's going to be hard for you all. Really. I wish it were different. But, I have… one last request. I know it's selfish and I have no right but…"
" Please, live. Please thrive. Please grow. Please go easy on yourselves. I loved every bit of it. Really. I was loved. I was happy and I lived with no regrets. Truly, there was nothing I would do differently. Please know that I love you all, to the world and back. It was an honor, truly, my greatest honor, to be Spider-man and to be Peter Parker. I am Peter Parker, nephew, son, hero, vigilante, best friend, brother, student, and… I'm signing out."
"That's all for now, folks! The world is big, and it is wide. Live. Life is short and there's only so much you can do."
"I’d say goodbye but, well, goodbyes are only meant for those who love with their eyes For those who love with the soul, there is no such thing as separation. So. For now, I'll…"
Smiling through his tears, Peter smiled one last time, " I'll see you all on the other side."
And with that, he disappeared.
The day the funeral march occurs, New York is silent.
The nights before had been eerie, the city quiet and still with no hero swinging around in sight. Queens had, for the first time in over three years, had no remnant of a spider-themed hero. There were no webs on the buildings, no whoops and hollers echoing in the streets.
It was as silent as a ghost town.
For once, Spider-man didn't swing by in a flurry, buzzing with excitement and enthusiasm.
For once, Queens was silent.
Yet.
The silence had never been this loud.
This past week had had a sharp lowering of crime in Queens. In fact, the incidents of crime in the borough had reached an all-time low. Most criminals were unwilling to sully the grieving atmosphere - a sign of respect to the hero who had passed on.
As they follow along the procession, New York is silent.
Spider-man had been the protector of Queens.
They supposed it was only fitting that the entirety of Queens buried him too.
("It's a song by this sibling bond a few years ago. They're called ' the Band Perry'."
"Can you tell me the name of the song?"
"Yeah, sure, it's called…")
("Do you want me to sing it for you, dad?"
"Sure, kid. How about you sing while we work on the suit, yeah?"
"Yes!"
"You really like it, huh?"
"Mmhm, I think it's pretty accurate for me too.")
New York is silent as thousands of people escort a fallen hero home, to Queens. They grieve quietly, their movements slow.
At the very front of the procession, leading the march, are Tony Stark and May Parker.
Tony Stark looked up to the sky as he walked, mind going all the way back to the time he first heard Peter sing that specific song.
At the time, FRIDAY had notified him that Spider-man had unusual traffic on most social media platforms. Expecting to see another stupid failed acrobatic stunt, Tony checked online but was surprised by a video.
It was his son singing on a roof, still in costume. His voice was eerie, haunting in a way that Peter's singing had never been before. Maybe, it was the song's message or the context of why he was singing in the first place but, nevertheless, it hit harder than usual.
Looking ahead, Tony spotted a rainbow above them. Smiling bitterly, Tony mused. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be him. Tony was supposed to go first.
There is a different, more palpable, gut-wrenching pain to burying a child, his child, and the spectacle behind him made it even more so.
Peter Parker had always set out to do good, to help out whenever possible.
With great power comes great responsibility.
His kid had set out to be a small-time vigilante but had quickly risen to becoming a symbol of Queens, their own personal hero.
Peter Parker was a hero and when Tony Stark was faced by the sheer magnitude of that statement, seeing thousands upon thousands of people flood the streets in Spider-man merch, it was amazing.
There had never been a hero who had touched as many lives as Spider-man and it showed.
It showed in the way the people of New York moved with the grief and such an all-encompassing sadness for a man they didn't even know - not really. It showed in the thousands upon thousands of flowers and street art that littered Queens and the hundreds of spider-themed freebies in restaurants and shops that have seemingly popped up overnight.
It was amazing and damn it, Tony closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his face, he wished Peter could have seen it.
He wished Peter could have seen the impact he made, the lives he touched, the people he saved.
He wished Peter had more time. He had so much to do. He was supposed to go to MIT in a few months, supposed to ask MJ out on a date next week, supposed to help Pepper plan out Morgan's first birthday party.
He was only eighteen year old.
Shaking his head, Tony thought, no.
He was eighteen years young.
It was too soon. Damn it, it was too soon.
And Tony wanted to do so much more with him, for one more hug, one more voicemail, one more suit, one more I love you, one more hour, one more minute.
He couldn't, not anymore.
Peter was dead.
But, Tony thought that he could still do one thing, one last thing.
Because Peter Parker had adored music and loved singing with a passion. He sang to people and sang for people. He sang with everything in him, whether that be happiness, joy, grief, pain and everything in between.
Peter loved noise.
So, to have a funeral march that was quiet…
Peter would have hated it. He just knew it, deep down. He'd have hated it.
So…
"If I died young…"
For once, it wasn't Peter who was singing.
For once, it wasn't Peter who was singing for someone.
He can't anymore.
So, the least Tony could do…
Was send him off with his favorite song.
"Bury me in satin."
Beside him, May looked at Tony with grief and thankfulness and sorrow and pain and so many different emotions but, for that split second of eye contact, had understood with a clarity what Tony was trying to do.
She knew it was true.
He'd have hated it, really.
And so…
She sang along with him.
"Lay me down on a bed of roses."
And one by one, the people of New York caught on, their minds travelling back to a few years ago, when Spider-man had gone viral as he grieved the death of a child and had sent him off to the afterlife with the same song.
And so…
They sang with them.
"Sink me in the river, at dawn, send me away with the words of a love song…"
And as they neared the end of the song, they arrived at the place he was to be buried, Spider-man was sent off by the voices of thousands of people, bidding him one last farewell.
"The sharp knife of a short life…"
( "Hey, Morgan! This is the last message I'm filming for my… death. Let me introduce myself, yeah?"
"I'm Peter Parker, your big brother! At this moment, you're only two months old, still so tiny, but I already adore you, kid. I adore you, Morgan and…" taking a deep breath, Peter wiped his tears away and moved to sit beside the crib, the corner only barely visible in the recording.
"If you're watching this, that means that I lived a short life. So… please understand, Morgan, I had - have - lives to save, people to fight for and… this might sound a bit insensitive but I don't regret it, dying for someone. I hope I’d be able to out as a hero, if I ever go out at all."
"But please know, even if we never meet, if I never watch you grow up, that I tried so so hard to come home to you, to Dad and Mom and Aunt May and Uncle Happy and Ned and MJ and everyone else. I tried so hard because I hoped so hard to watch you grow."
"But I can't, Morgs, you're watching this so that means I can't and god. I-" Wiping away tears, Peter started to cry. "I'll have to settle for this." Cooing at the girl in the crib, Peter rocked her slightly. "Grow up to be someone, alright, Maguna?"
"You don't have to be great or anything but you have to become someone you'd be proud of. Stick to who you are, to who you wanna become and don't let anyone ever put you down."
"Don't force yourself, it's okay to take it slow on hard days. There's no rush, you know? What else… Well, don't be so hard on yourself. If you're ever like your dad or me, you'd probably have a guilt complex the size of Canada so be kind to everyone but most especially, to yourself."
"and… above all else. Know that with everything you do, I'll be proud of you. Even if I'm not there, even if I'm… dead, I'm still your most aggressive cheerleader, kay, Maguna?"
"I'm Peter Parker, your big bro, and I love you, Morgan. I love you. I love you loads and loads. I… I love you 3000. Yeah. I think that works… Even as a baby, I love you, 3000. So, you gotta take care of our dad and mom for me, alright? I won't be able to sing for them and to give them hugs and the love they deserve so you gotta do it for me. But, most importantly, take care of yourself, Morgs. Lord knows you're the most important thing in my life right now. Treat yourself with love and dignity, alright?")
"Well, I've had just enough time…"
"We'll see you on the other side, Pete." Patting a hand on his son's grave, Tony cried silently, "You did good, kid. I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud of you. We'll be okay, we'll learn to be okay so until we meet again… rest well. I love you, baby. I love you so much."
("This song, to me, is saying that even if I die, right here, right now, it's okay. Because I have lived. I have grown. I have triumphed. There is so much I have yet to do but… there's also so much I have already done."
"This song means that I have lived happily so send me off happily too.")