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Peter stood at the entrance to the hospital, staring at the towering walls of the place that now housed his brothers. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat, his palms damp with sweat as he fought the urge to bolt. The bag he held in his hands felt too light, too useless—a couple of snacks, books, and old cassette tapes. Things they’d once loved, back when they were still themselves.He'd kept this hidden from everyone—even Charles, who could so easily pick through his mind like pages in a book. No one knew about his brothers, not even Erik, who probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. The X-Men had no idea Peter slipped away to see them, that he had spent so much time running, not just from his enemies, but from his family and the painful truth that they were slowly falling apart.Kai and Tate had been the first to show signs. Empathy and telepathy were difficult mutations to manage, even under the best of circumstances. For years, Peter watched his oldest brothers struggle to stay grounded, watched them spiral, until the hospital became their only sanctuary from the overwhelming flood of other people's emotions and thoughts.And then the others—Kyle with his telekinesis, Kit who could teleport anywhere but couldn’t seem to find peace, and Jimmy, whose control over electricity fizzled as his mind unraveled. Peter had been the youngest, the one they all looked out for, and now he was the last one standing, with only his super speed and the gnawing fear that one day he’d end up just like them.His breath caught in his chest as he pushed the door open. The sterile, cold air hit him immediately, the sharp scent of disinfectant almost too much to bear. As he walked down the corridors, each step felt like it was dragging him further into a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.When he reached their room, his feet stopped moving.“Hey,” he said quietly, peeking inside.Tate was sitting in the corner, legs pulled to his chest, his once-sharp eyes distant and unfocused. Kai lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, mumbling under his breath. Kyle was sitting at the window, but his hand hovered, twitching. Kit and Jimmy were asleep, their faces pale and worn.Peter swallowed hard. He forced a smile onto his face, though it felt like his skin was stretched too tight. “Got some new music for you guys,” he said, holding up the cassettes. “Remember this one, Tate? Used to blast it in the house and piss off the neighbors.”Tate didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on something only he could see.Peter’s hands shook. He felt the familiar tug of his speed urging him to run, to escape the unbearable weight pressing down on him. But he couldn’t. He was stuck, trapped by the love he had for them, by the guilt of having abandoned them when they needed him most. He sat down beside Kai, reaching out to touch his brother’s hand. The warmth was there, but the connection wasn’t. God, they were slipping away."Pete," Kai whispered, his voice cracking. "Too loud... too many voices."Peter blinked back tears, squeezing Kai's hand tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”————It had become a ritual for Peter—visiting his brothers in secret, hiding it from the X-Men, and then running back to the mansion before anyone could notice his absence. He’d even stopped visiting Logan, skipping their usual late-night takeout and movie marathons. He couldn’t face anyone, not with this weight dragging him down.But he couldn’t stop going. He had to be there for them. Every time he visited, they seemed worse. Tate was nearly catatonic now, and Kai barely reacted to his presence anymore. Kyle’s telekinesis had become erratic, objects in the room shaking at random. Kit and Jimmy had started muttering to each other, having conversations that made no sense.The worst part was that Peter could feel himself slipping too. The visits took a toll, each one chipping away at his already fragile sense of control. He couldn’t run fast enough to escape the dark thoughts gnawing at him. What if he ended up like them? What if he lost control, just like his brothers had?Peter came home late one night, his heart heavy, his eyes burning from holding back tears. He’d just seen Jimmy lash out at one of the nurses, electricity sparking from his hands. They had to sedate him. Peter hadn’t been able to stop it.When he walked into the mansion, the X-Men barely noticed him. They were too busy with their own problems—missions, training, and the usual chaos of being mutants in a world that feared them. They had no idea what he’d been going through. No one asked why he looked so tired, why he was barely eating, why his usual quips and jokes had all but disappeared.But Logan noticed. He always noticed.————The day it all fell apart, Peter was late to the hospital. His mind had been elsewhere, trapped in the haze of exhaustion that followed him everywhere these days. He ran through the doors, his heart already racing in his chest.But when he arrived at their room, something was wrong. His brothers were lying still, too still.“No...”He rushed to their sides, his heart slamming against his ribs as he checked for any sign of life. They were gone. All of them. Their minds had finally given up, the fragile threads that had kept them tethered to this world severed.Peter collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His vision blurred, his chest tightening as the weight of the moment crushed him.“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, tears falling freely now. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”————-When Peter returned to the mansion that night, the X-Men noticed. How could they not? He was a wreck—his clothes wrinkled, his face pale and gaunt, his eyes hollow. Jean, sensing the overwhelming sadness, reached out, but Peter pulled away. He couldn’t deal with anyone right now.He locked himself in his room, curled up on his bed, and cried. Cried for the brothers he’d lost. Cried for the burden he’d carried alone. Cried for the weight of his own failures.Logan tried to knock, tried to talk to him through the door, but Peter didn’t answer. He cried until there were no more tears left, and then he cried some more. The exhaustion overtook him, and he finally drifted into a restless, dreamless sleep, the last vestiges of hope fading into the dark.—————-Peter woke the next morning feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. The tears had dried on his face, but the ache in his chest lingered, a constant reminder of the emptiness he couldn’t escape. His body felt heavy, each movement taking twice the effort. He stared at the ceiling, the events of the previous day looping in his mind—his brothers, their lifeless bodies, the hospital’s sterile silence.He barely noticed when Jean knocked softly on the door, her voice gentle but tinged with concern. “Peter? Do you want to talk?”Peter didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His throat felt tight, like he was choking on all the words he couldn’t say.Eventually, she gave up, her footsteps retreating down the hallway. But Peter stayed where he was, staring at the cracks in the ceiling and trying not to think, trying not to feel.They’re gone. They’re really gone.He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding on to the hope that maybe—just maybe—they’d get better. That maybe one day they’d laugh together again, the way they had when they were kids. But now, that hope was gone, and in its place was a black void that threatened to swallow him whole.—————Days passed in a blur. Peter went through the motions, barely aware of his surroundings. He trained with the X-Men, but his usual spark was gone. His speed felt slower, his movements less precise. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t shake the image of his brothers from his mind. He started making mistakes—small ones at first, like missing a step in training or zoning out during briefings. But then the bigger mistakes came.On a mission to stop a mutant riot in the city, Peter’s mind slipped, just for a second. His heart pounded, memories of the hospital flashing in his mind, and before he knew it, he’d tripped over debris. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But for Peter, it was like the ground had betrayed him. He fell hard, crashing into a wall, his head ringing from the impact.“Pete!” Logan’s voice echoed in his ears, but Peter couldn’t focus. His mind was scattered, thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and grief.Logan grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him gently. “What the hell happened?”“I... I’m fine,” Peter mumbled, though he knew he wasn’t.Logan didn’t buy it. “You’ve been off for days, kid. Talk to me.”But Peter couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Logan what was going on, couldn’t admit that he was losing control. He didn’t want to burden anyone else, didn’t want to bring his problems into their already chaotic lives. So he pushed Logan away, pulling his speed around him like a shield.“I’m fine,” he repeated, and ran before Logan could stop him.————-Peter tried to hold it together after that. He tried to focus on missions, on training, on being the Peter Maximoff everyone expected him to be—the jokester, the quick-witted speedster who never let anything faze him. But the cracks were already showing, and they were getting wider.He stopped sleeping, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t control. He saw his brothers’ faces everywhere—in the reflections in windows, in the faces of the people they saved, in his nightmares. His powers started to glitch, his speed flickering in and out like a broken lightbulb.Jean noticed. She tried to reach out, tried to probe his mind, but Peter shut her out. He couldn’t let her see how bad it was, couldn’t let her know that he was slipping, just like his brothers had. He didn’t want to end up in that hospital, strapped to a bed, staring at the ceiling like Tate had.But no matter how hard he tried to hold on, he was losing his grip. The walls were closing in, and Peter was running out of room to escape.————One night, Peter found himself standing in front of the hospital again. He didn’t remember how he got there, didn’t remember leaving the mansion. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the building, his hands trembling. He’d sworn he wouldn’t come back, not after what had happened. But here he was, drawn to the place like a moth to a flame.He could see their faces in his mind—Tate, Kai, Kyle, Kit, Jimmy. His brothers, lost to their own minds, to their powers, to the illnesses that had consumed them. And now he was following in their footsteps. He could feel it, the cracks widening, the control slipping.Peter stumbled forward, his legs weak beneath him. The hospital doors loomed ahead, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go in there and face what was left of them.“You’re just like them,” a voice whispered in his mind, dark and insidious. “You’ll end up just like them. Crazy. Broken. Lost.”“No...” Peter whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m not... I’m not like them.”But the voice didn’t stop. It echoed in his mind, louder and louder, until it was all he could hear. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands to his ears, but it didn’t help. The voice was inside him, part of him, and it wouldn’t let go.————-Peter didn’t remember much after that. He remembered running—fast, too fast. His body screamed in protest, but he couldn’t stop. The world blurred around him as he ran from the hospital, from the memories, from himself. But no matter how fast he went, the darkness followed him. It clawed at his mind, tearing him apart from the inside out.When he finally stopped, he was back at the mansion, collapsed on the floor of his room, his chest heaving with sobs. His whole body ached, his mind fractured, broken. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t hold it together.He curled into himself, his hands gripping his hair as he rocked back and forth. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, the ceiling spinning above him. He was losing control. He could feel it slipping, like sand through his fingers, and no matter how hard he tried to hold on, it wasn’t enough.“Pete...” Logan’s voice was there again, but it felt distant, like it was coming from underwater.Logan’s hands were gentle as he knelt beside him, pulling Peter into his arms. “I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you.”But Peter wasn’t sure if that was true. Not anymore.Chapter 10: The Edge of OblivionPeter stayed in his room for days after that. He didn’t train, didn’t go on missions. The others tried to reach him—Logan, Jean, Scott—but he shut them all out. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain what was happening inside his head. How could he, when he didn’t even understand it himself?The only thing he knew was that he was losing control. He could feel it, creeping up on him like a storm on the horizon. It was only a matter of time before he snapped, before he became just like his brothers.He caught himself staring at his reflection one night, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. The Peter Maximoff he used to be—the carefree speedster, the jokester—was gone, replaced by someone hollow, someone broken.“I’m not like them,” he whispered to himself, but the words felt empty.The darkness was still there, lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for him to slip. And Peter didn’t know if he had the strength to keep fighting it.—————-Peter could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him, every breath growing heavier as days blurred together. The mansion became both a sanctuary and a prison—he wasn’t sure if it was keeping him safe or trapping him in his own mind.Logan had stopped pushing him, though Peter could tell it was killing him inside. The others gave him space, unsure of how to reach him without pushing him further over the edge. But Peter could feel their concern every time he walked past them in the hallways, saw the sympathetic looks they threw his way when they thought he wasn’t paying attention.He was paying attention, though. More than ever. He was hyper-aware of everything—every noise, every glance, every whisper of his name. His powers had begun to slip in and out, his speed acting up in small, uncontrollable bursts. It terrified him.What scared him even more was how much it reminded him of them.Tate had started like this—losing his grip on his empathy, feeling everyone else’s emotions until he drowned in them. Kai had slowly slipped into a world of thoughts that weren’t his own, unable to shut out the constant stream of voices that filled his mind. And the others... Peter didn’t even want to think about how they had fallen apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of them but hollow shells of the people they once were.That’s what he was becoming.————-One evening, as the sun set and bathed the mansion in an eerie orange glow, Peter found himself standing in front of the mirror again. He didn’t recognize the person staring back at him—hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, hair unkempt and falling in messy tufts. He looked sick. Weak. Like someone who was barely hanging on.He clenched his fists, trying to feel something—anger, frustration, anything—but all he felt was numbness.“I’m not like them,” he whispered again, more out of habit than belief. His reflection didn’t agree. It stared back at him with empty, haunted eyes that seemed to mock him.In a fit of frustration, Peter slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. The pieces fell to the floor, glittering like broken stars, and Peter stood there, breathing heavily, staring at his bloodied hand. He didn’t feel the pain. Not really.The sound of footsteps made him stiffen, and a moment later, Logan appeared in the doorway. He took one look at Peter—his trembling form, the shattered mirror, the blood dripping from his knuckles—and his expression softened.“Kid... what’re you doing?” Logan’s voice was quiet, but it was enough to break through the fog in Peter’s mind.“I...” Peter started, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know how to explain it—how to tell Logan that he felt like he was slipping, that he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on before he ended up like his brothers.Before he could say anything, Logan crossed the room and pulled him into a rough embrace. Peter stiffened at first, but then he collapsed into the hug, his body shaking with silent sobs.“I don’t wanna lose you,” Logan murmured, his voice low and gruff. “Not like this.”Peter buried his face in Logan’s chest, feeling the warmth and strength of the man who had always been there for him. It was comforting, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to pull him out of the darkness that had settled in his mind like a thick, suffocating fog.“I don’t want to lose myself,” Peter finally whispered. His voice cracked, and it was the most honest he’d been in days.————Peter started seeing Dr. McCoy—Hank—again, though it wasn’t by choice. Logan had gently suggested it, and after the mirror incident, Peter hadn’t had the energy to argue. Hank was kind, patient, and never pushed Peter too far, but every session felt like Peter was trying to put together a puzzle where the pieces didn’t fit.“How are you sleeping?” Hank asked one afternoon, leaning back in his chair as he regarded Peter with calm eyes.Peter shrugged. “I’m not.”Hank nodded, scribbling something down on his notepad. “And how are your powers?”Peter hesitated. “Out of control.”Hank’s pen paused, and he looked up. “In what way?”Peter glanced at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. “Sometimes... I run too fast. Without meaning to. It just... happens. I don’t know if it’s stress or—”“It’s grief,” Hank interrupted gently. “You’ve been through something traumatic, Peter. Your body and mind are trying to cope in their own ways.”Peter let out a hollow laugh. “Coping, huh? Feels more like falling apart.”Hank leaned forward slightly, his eyes softening. “You’re not your brothers, Peter. You have people here who care about you, who want to help.”Peter didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he believed it anymore.————-The nightmares started shortly after. At first, they were vague—shadows moving in the corners of his vision, flashes of memories that he couldn’t quite grasp. But then they became more vivid, more terrifying.He saw his brothers—Tate, Kai, Kyle, Kit, Jimmy—standing in the hallway of the hospital, their eyes hollow and their bodies twisted in unnatural ways. They reached out to him, their voices distorted, calling his name in a chorus of whispers.“Peter... you’re one of us... you can’t escape it...”In the dreams, Peter ran. He always ran, faster than he ever had before, but no matter how far he went, he could still hear their voices behind him, growing louder and more insistent.“Come back, Peter... come back to us...”He’d wake up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, his body trembling. And every time, he felt a little more of his sanity slipping away.————-Peter hit rock bottom one night after another mission went south. His mind had slipped again, his focus shattered. He’d almost gotten Scott killed because of it. When they returned to the mansion, Scott had been too angry to even look at him, and Peter didn’t blame him.He didn’t talk to anyone after that. He shut himself in his room, sitting on the floor with his back against the door, trying to stop the flood of thoughts that were crashing through his mind.“I’m losing it,” Peter whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. “I’m really losing it.”He couldn’t fight it anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending that he was fine, that he wasn’t slowly becoming the very thing he feared.Peter curled up into a ball, wrapping his arms around his knees as the tears came again. He couldn’t stop them this time. He couldn’t stop anything. He was falling, just like his brothers had, and there was no one who could save him.————-Peter's heart raced as he stood in the middle of the battlefield, his vision blurring in and out, the world around him shifting like a broken kaleidoscope. His skin felt electric, his body barely holding together as his molecules vibrated at a frequency he didn’t understand. He tried to steady his breath, clenching his fists, grounding himself in the only way he knew how: focus."Come on, Peter," he whispered to himself. "Stay here. Stay present."The X-Men were still scattered, regrouping after the initial chaos of the mission. Peter could see them moving in the distance, their voices muffled, distant, like they were speaking through a thick wall of static. He wanted to shout, to tell them something was wrong, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. His voice, like his body, was slipping away.No. No, no, no.He sped over to Jean, his body glitching with every step. His vision wavered, and suddenly, she wasn’t in front of him anymore—she was behind him, then to the side, then further away. He reached out to grab her shoulder, but his hand passed through her like she was made of smoke.“Jean!” Peter’s voice came out broken, distorted, as if the sound was warping with him. His heart slammed in his chest. “Jean, please!”But Jean didn’t turn. She didn’t even flinch. She couldn’t hear him.Peter tried again, this time reaching for Scott. His body flickered, momentarily appearing behind him before zipping to the side. He was everywhere and nowhere at once, his speed warping his form, pulling him out of sync with the world. When he finally managed to reach Scott’s side, he grabbed his arm—only for his hand to go right through.Scott didn’t notice.“Scott, I need help!” Peter’s voice was desperate now, trembling. “Please, you’ve got to help me! I—I can’t—”But the team kept moving. They didn’t hear him. They didn’t see him.Peter tried to step back, but the ground beneath him shifted like water, and his foot sank into nothingness. His breath caught in his throat as the world around him fractured even more, cracks of light and color bleeding out of the edges of his vision. It was like watching a mirror shatter in slow motion.He was disappearing.—————Logan growled in frustration, his claws still extended as he paced. "Where the hell is Pete?" he muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon. He could feel it—something was wrong. His senses were on high alert, every instinct screaming that something had happened. He just didn’t know what.Jean stood nearby, her expression troubled as she tried to reach out with her mind. “He’s... he’s here, but I can’t... it’s like he’s fading, like he’s slipping through my fingers.”“He’s not responding,” Scott said, tapping his communicator. “He’s not even showing up on the radar.”“He’s here,” Jean repeated, her voice softer now, uncertain. “I can feel him. But he’s... distant. I don’t know how to explain it.”“Keep trying,” Scott ordered, though his voice was laced with doubt.Peter’s form flickered in and out beside them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He reached for Logan this time, desperate, feeling like a ghost in his own skin. He tried to grab the sleeve of Logan’s jacket, but again, his fingers passed through the fabric as though it wasn’t real. As though he wasn’t real."Logan!" Peter’s voice cracked, tears stinging his eyes. “I’m here! You’ve got to help me! I’m slipping—I’m losing control!”But Logan didn’t react. His sharp senses didn’t pick up Peter’s presence. His heightened awareness couldn’t detect the youngest speedster standing right beside him, fighting to stay tethered to this reality.Peter stumbled, the ground slipping out from beneath his feet again, as if he was walking on air. His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, his body glitching wildly now. It was like he was being torn apart from every angle, every molecule vibrating at a speed that was too much for his own world to handle. The very fabric of space around him was warping.This is it, Peter thought. I’m disappearing. Just like them.He didn’t want to leave—not like this. He tried one last time, dragging himself to his feet and speeding toward Jean, but he felt the weight of reality tearing him apart at the seams.With a final burst of energy, Peter screamed, his voice a distorted, broken cry as his body flickered once, twice, then———————-Jean’s eyes widened suddenly, her mind jolting as a ripple passed through her consciousness, like someone trying to shout from miles away. She gasped, her hand flying to her head as she tried to focus. “Peter?” she whispered. “Peter, is that you?”But there was no answer.“Jean?” Scott asked, noticing her change in expression.“He’s gone,” Jean said, her voice hollow, her eyes distant as though she were still searching for him. “He was here, but... he’s not anymore.”Logan’s fists clenched, his claws retracting as a low growl escaped his throat. “What the hell do you mean, ‘gone’?”Jean shook her head, helpless. “I don’t know. I felt him. He was right there, but... I think he’s—” Her voice faltered. “He’s gone. He’s out of our reality.”The air around them felt thick with loss, with the weight of something irreversible. They couldn’t understand what had happened, not really. But they knew one thing for certain:Peter Maximoff had vanished.—————Peter drifted now, somewhere between realities, between worlds, his body lost to the cracks in the universe. The static filled his ears, the voices of his brothers growing louder, calling him, pulling him further away from the world he knew.He tried to reach out, but there was nothing to hold on to. No ground beneath his feet. No air in his lungs. Just... emptiness.“Pete...” Tate’s voice echoed in his mind, soft, but filled with an eerie calm.“Come home,” Kai whispered, his words cold and distant.Peter’s vision blurred, the last remnants of his world slipping further and further out of reach. He was alone now—truly alone.And there was no going back.———————Peter didn’t know how long he had been here. Days? Weeks? Maybe even longer. Time had ceased to matter. The white, endless expanse around him offered no sense of passing hours, no hint of the world outside, no tether to anything real. He was adrift, just as he had been before, only this time he didn’t care.He lay there, his body sinking into the white nothingness, his mind drifting in and out of focus. Every now and then, he felt a flicker of awareness—a sharp, aching reminder of who he had been and the people he had left behind. But it was fleeting, like a dream slipping through his fingers the moment he tried to grasp it.Peter was fading again, but this time, there was no fear. No desperation to hold on.There was just... quiet.The voices of his brothers had long since gone silent, no longer echoing through the static. They had called to him for so long, pulled him toward this place. But now, there was nothing left. Just Peter, alone in the white expanse, fading with every breath.He tried to count the days once, back when he still cared, back when he thought maybe there was a way out. But now? He couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. The endless drift, the pull of sleep, of letting go—it was too easy. Too tempting. And he was so tired.Peter shifted slightly, his body barely registering the movement. He stared up at the vast emptiness above him, the white void swallowing everything. No more fights. No more running. No more trying to fix things or save people. It was over.And for once, that felt okay.His eyelids fluttered, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down, deeper into a sleep he had been fighting for so long. His body, once so fast, so restless, was now still. His thoughts, once a blur of anxiety and fear, had slowed, quieted, until there was nothing left but a faint hum, a whisper in the back of his mind.This is it, Peter thought, though the thought was faint, barely a flicker. I’m fading again...But this time, he welcomed it.He could finally sleep. The kind of sleep he hadn’t allowed himself in what felt like years. A deep, dreamless sleep where he didn’t have to worry about waking up, where there was no fear of what came next.The white expanse cradled him, soft and silent, as he finally let himself go, his body dissolving into the void.And as Peter Maximoff closed his eyes for the last time, there was only peace.Nothing more. Nothing less.