Pete and Pete
Who would have thought his world would end up being the Mirrorverse one? He's not sure if it's better or worse, seeing just how dark everything was in comparison. He wouldn't wish Thanos and everything he'd been through on anyone but it...yeah, it's a wake up call. They all face their own challenges, though (they wouldn't be Spider-people if they didn't).
Peter tried to smile, he really did, but he just couldn't quiet manage. Selfish? Maybe there was someone out there who would call it that, but there was probably someone out there who would just call it being kind. Trying, in whatever small way he could, to make this all a little easier - how could that really be anything but a kindness?
Whether or not it's awkward, or weird, or whatever, Peter lets the older version of himself pull him into the hug he couldn't articulate. It's relieving, a breath of fresh air in his chest, and Peter doesn't care if it looks weird, this intense hug in the middle of the party, his plate of half-eaten food forgotten on the table in front of him. Older Pete isn't May, but he's close enough, in a weird sort of way.
He sniffs, less-than-subtly, and lets his fingers curl in the back of Peter's jacket. It will take time, but he'll be alright...and right now, words don't hold much weight, because it just hurts. It hurts, and it sucks, and being here is a whole other can of worms to deal with, on top of everything else.
"...thanks," Peter mutters, and he knows the older Peter will hear him, even if it's muffled by the way Peter's face is pressing into the older man's shoulder. Benefit of enhanced senses, or something. "...Thank you."
A start was all he could manage, right now, but Peter was right - even a little progress was still progress, in some form of direction.