Doctor Strange: The Eternal Flame *DISCONTINUED*

Chapter 13

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

SPOILERS FROM SPIDER-MAN FAR FROM HOME AND AVENGERS: ENDGAME PAST THIS POINT. BEWARE.

FINALLY! AFTER CENTURIES OF WAITING...THE TIME HAS COME! CHAPTER THIRTEEN IS HERE!!!!

I am so sorry this took soooooo long. This summer has been...interesting. Hasn't left much time for writing. I hope you all have sticked around to see what's next for the characters! I've got a roller coaster of a book left to write.

In honor of the release of FFH, a little late... this chapter is all Peter!!

Thank you all for being patient and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

P.S.
The updated version of this book will be posted tomorrow. From now on, it will bale as canon compliant as possible.

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"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter said softly, his lips barely brushing against the cold plastic of the recorder he held in his hand. He shivered against the cold and snuggled into his sweatshirt, sinking down into the grassy ground beneath him. "This is week thirty-five since you died. I'm just here, you know, checking in with you again. This week was pretty...weird. I'm honestly really scared right now and confused. You know that girl I met about two or three-ish months ago? Samrah? Yeah, that one. Well, turns out she's in danger, like, really bad danger. Dangerous danger stuff, you know?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably on the grass before shifting over to lean his back against the stiff and cold stone of Tony's grave. "You would know what to do... I wish you were here. You'd like Samrah and Michelle and Ned. I know you would've liked to meet them. Samrah's smart, like you. She's so nice, though."

Peter paused and panicked once he realized what he said and what it meant. "N-not that I mean you weren't nice! I mean-- you were REALLY nice. So nice, super nice." he sighed, rubbing his cheeks with his hands to massage out the chill creeping in his bones. "Sorry, I don't know why I overreacted like that. You're never going to hear these anyway. My therapist just said it would be a good idea for vents and stuff. Also, I just like doing. It helps me remember."

Peter chuckled to himself, swallowing to rid himself of the tightening in his throat. "Do you remember that time when you had my phone and took a bunch of selfies when I wasn't looking? I still have all the pictures. All two-hundred seventy six of them. They're all special. I keep them so I don't forget your face..."

He couldn't help the tears that began to creep into his eyes. Peter giggled sloppily and swiped at them with his black hoodie sleeve. "Here I go, crying again. I'm really sorry, I know you would want me to be strong but sometimes it's so hard. I really, really, really miss you. I'm sorry I couldn't have been better."

Peter choked on his own spit before regaining his composure and coughing away the sadness building up in his chest. "I wish I could've made you proud. B-bye, Tony. I'll talk to you again next week."

Peter clicked the top of the recorder. He didn't bother playing the tape, just saved it and tucked the recorder in the special nook that Peter carved out in the grave. He put the small, circle slab of stone back in its place, hiding the recorder's spot. Peter's finger tips trailed the corners if the polished rock expertly carved into a beautifully intricate design. There were so many flowers of all shapes, sizes and colors. There were a lot of people who cared about Tony. Peter was just one in a million of those people.

He crested his lips above the stone softly before kissing it gently. Peter turned his back to the grave and wiped the tears in the corners of his eyes. Peter stuffed his hands into his sweat shirt and walked back to Aunt May's car. A misplaced rustle in the trees caught his attention, his spider-sense spiking for a split second. The hairs on his neck relaxed when he felt a soft breeze ruffle his hoodie.