The resurrect.
Prophecy in motion.
The dust settled on Tony’s opened eyes falls past his lashes. The beating heart within a marble frame. From his era of separation, the grains congeal into a boy, the human amalgamation of the man’s golden intention. Sweetness seeped from his irises in the form of salted water.
He beheld his beloved in his arms, pale and trembling, reassembled.
Praise be to God for this indescribable gift.
His broken voice, his shaking limbs, they were made whole again within his mentors arms. Tony held Peter close, close to his heart, in hopes that the artificial organ would receive peace from hearing the boy’s ragged breathing.
“Mr. Sta-ark.”
Tears oozed down flushed cheeks, liquid dripping from half lidded eyes that were weighed down from exhaustion. Tony’s hands tenderly cupped Peter’s face, chapped lips gently meeting the boy’s forehead.
“Don’t ever leave me again.” Tony murmured quietly, pleading lacing through the words how Peter’s fingers intertwined with his.
The man raised the boy’s hand up to his lips, gently kissing the knuckles before resting his forehead against Peter’s. Their noses brushed, trembled breaths mixing in with each other.
“Promise me.” Tony begged softly.
Softly, softly.
And lovely, lovely.
Peter nodded hesitantly, his eyes falling shut as he spoke quietly.
“As long as you do the same for me.”
And he was met with that promise, again and again, so on, and so forth.
