Tony stood there, and as everything crumbled around him he just stood. Like there was a tomorrow, and there was no yesterday, and he wasn't there in his crappy suit, that he designed himself to last forever and ended up outlasting everyone instead.
Slowly everyone turned to dust, some with a last promise on their lips, and some with a horrible realization that this, this was the final end. Not those puny ones that happened all the times, but this time as Tony's chest constricted, and his heart laughed at him amid the fire and light. This time there was no start ahead, it was a blank paper, it was all a black hole.
He rubbed his hand against his finger, sighing, as these people he didn't know died.
"I...I don't feel so good," Peter whispered. Tony looked at him, and as words hung on his mouth, he thought to himself: I never thought that I would feel this way, even with the machine in my chest, my heart still continues to beat, and my mind still thinks about a boy.
"You're all right," It came stoic and hard from his lips, but Peter limped forward, a look of realization spreading through his face, and the flames licked somewhere behind him, it seemed like the only people left were just Peter and Tony.
Peter stumbled forward, his hands trying to find a place to hold, pale and stark against the red iron suit. Tony looked down at the boy for a second.
"I don't know whats happening," But you do don't you? "Save me" I can't.
Tony wished that he was smart enough to stop someone from fading away, but as all things do, the sun turns to moon, the morning turns to night, and the life turns to death, white fades to black, and this is the end.
His hands grasped at Tony's shoulders, and in a breath of hot air he finally understood. Peter is dying, like he wasn't just fifteen years old, and he didn't just bravely fight.
"Mr. Stark please, please," Call me Tony.
"I don't want to go, I don't want to go," I don't want you to do either.
Tony pushed him down to his back, seeing the faint line of his body start to blow away, like a flower in the wind, the petals too spread apart, and the color to white to be exactly there.
He thought of Peter's Aunt May, and his friends, how would he explain to them that Peter is dead. Half of the world is dead anyway, but somehow this seemed different, more profound, like this boys last begging words were stolen and ripped from his mouth, like this meant something, meant anything.
"I'm sorry," and of course as all things do, Peter faded.
If you die, that's on me.
Tony never thought for one second, that Peter would die on him.
The end.
YOU ARE READING
The End
FanfictionAll rights go to Marvel. Everything has to fade, turn to dust, white to black. But why do lives have to? Tony doesn't know. He just doesn't, because Peter is dying, fading, and that was a life well lived.
