Chapter 6

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     Tony sat by Stephen's hospital bed. Wow, huge surprise. Stephen had some fucked up hands now, there was now no possible way for him to do his job.

     Stephen started to wake up, so Tony looked back at him. "Tony?" Stephen mumbled, eyes squinted.

     "Yes?" Tony answered.

     "What all is injured?" Stephen asked, opening his eyes more. "Am I going to recover fully?"

     "Well, you cracked a few ribs, broke your arm, broke your leg, broke your nose, and your hands were broken beyond full repair. I don't know if you're going to make a full recovery with your hands, but everything else should heal," Tony answered, recalling what the doctor told him. Stephen groaned.

     "Shit. Well, we can confirm when the doctor comes back," Stephen said. He then noticed the disaster of his hands. There were needles all over. "What the hell happened?" Stephen asked with a shaky voice

     "A drunk driver in a semi hit you when you went out for milk two nights ago," Tony answered. "It was a very serious crash, the driver died,"

     The doctor then entered the room, stopping Stephen from saying profanities. "Mister Strange, you're up," The doctor said. "I have some bad news. Your hands will not make a full recovery, and you will not be able to be a neurosurgeon anymore. We tried our hardest to fix them,"

     Stephen looked like he was going to cry. The doctor then left, saying Stephen could leave in a week.

//A week later, at Stephen's apartment//

     "Stephen, stop selling your shit to afford surgeries that won't do a damn thing to help!" Tony yelled at his boyfriend, who was about to sell his last watch. Stephen has not been taking his condition well, so he was going into surgeries that are "magic".

     "I can do what I want, Tony! You can't tell me what to do!" Stephen yelled back. Tony shot him a look.

     "I'm just trying to tell you to be smart!" Tony yelled.

     "I went through almost twenty years of school to be a neurosurgeon, I think I'm pretty smart! I'm going to meet a guy who's legs shouldn't work anymore, but they do work. I'll be back in a few hours," Stephen said, leaving the apartment.

     "Well I'm not going to be back," Tony mumbled to himself, also leaving. It was about time to clean his house, anyway.

     Tony pushed open his front door after unlocking it. He sighed, taking in the sort of messy house. Tony made a mental list of what to do. Dusting first, then sweeping, then the dreaded room. Peter's room.

     Tony was deep in thought as he did the chores that Peter was supposed to do. The dishes were the worst because Peter hadn't done them in forever. 'Oh wait, Peter's dead.' Tony thought, letting himself cry. Tony finished up the cleaning downstairs, then moved to upstairs.

     Peter's room had now been untouched for a little over a month. Tony sighed and decided to look through his stuff. He found a journal on his bedside table and looked through it.

     The journal contained many science puns, a few math puns, and one serious entry. It was dated a few weeks before Peter was put in the hospital. It made Tony catch the feels.

     Well, this is a journal so here I shall write. No puns. Today I started to feel sick. A headache hit me so hard, I thought I was going to pass out. Dad asked me if I was okay, but I lied and said I was fine, it was just a headache. I took Ibuprofen and went to my room. That leads up to this moment. A sudden headache was what started it with Mom, and now I'm scared. I don't want a tumour! I want to live, be great, and make my dad proud. I feel like he's not that proud of me, I haven't done much but get straight A's. Well, I know I'm going to die, and my dad will find this, so hi, Dad. I love you, and I hope you find someone to make you happier. I know Mom still makes you sad. I love you so much, and I hope you can live without me. Goodbye.
 
Love, Peter :)

     Tony felt tears escape his eyes. He closed the journal and hugged it close to his chest. "I love you, too, Peter. I am very proud of you, my smart boy. Question, why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you sooner, and you could've lived. I love you so much Peter, goodbye," Tony whispered, hoping Peter could hear him from the afterlife. Tony flipped through the rest of the journal but found nothing else except a smiley face at the end.

     Tony then got up from the bed and looked through other things. He found Peter's photo album and looked through it.

     There were plenty of baby pictures. He was adorable. There was also a fair share of Pepper looking exhausted but happy, holding baby Peter. After baby pictures, there were toddler pictures. First steps, birthday pictures with cake smeared on Peter's face, and Peter's first beach trip. He looked confused in the sand.

     The pictures got more spread out, the most recent picture being Peter before homecoming. The next thing Tony found was Peter's odd collection of music.

     Tony realised he fell asleep after he woke up from a nap on Peter's bed. He was half-buried in Peter's stuff. Tony felt his phone vibrating, so he checked it. It was a call from Stephen.

     "Hey," Tony said flatly.

     "Hey, Tony, uhm, I'll be going on a trip. The guy told me about this place, and I'm going to see if they can help me. I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll get you as soon as I get back. I love you," Stephen said.

     "When are you leaving?" Tony asked.

     "Tomorrow morning. You sound upset, did you go through Peter's room?" Stephen answered.

     "Yes," Tony answered.

     "Are you okay?" Stephen asked.

     "No, I found out I could have saved Peter if he had told me he didn't feel well," Tony answered, about to cry again.

     "It's okay, It's not your fault that he died. I have to go now, my phone's about to die. I love you so much, and I don't know when I can contact you next. Bye," Stephen said.

     "I love you too. Bye," Tony responded, hanging up afterwards. He turned his phone off, curled into a ball, and cried himself to sleep.

A/N: Y'all already know what's going to happen to Stephen. And oh boy, plot twists are about to happen. Magic shit happens. Bye-bye!

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