Deja Vu
Taking a deep breath, Peter walked out the room, down the hall, and entered the lift. Without even a note of acknowledgement, the doors closed behind him. For a moment, Peter almost thought he wasn't moving. That he had remained stagnant on the previous floor. Looking above the reflective metal doors, he watched as a thin needle glided passed increasing numbers, indicating an upwards movement. Slowly, the lift began to open, silently adding to the feeling that he had been in a sound proof room for the past two minutes.
Taking a step forward, the brunette entered what he could only assume to be one of Tony's workspaces. Though, he'd probably describe the room more as a place where he tinkered. The room seemed to be covered in loose piece metal and scraps skewed about, but nothing too heavy duty. It seemed more of a place that Tony would go to hide more than anything else.
Lingering by the entrance, Peter stood awkwardly, arms positioned in a shy self-hug. As if aware of his presence, Tony appeared from around a corner. He looked tired.
"Hey, Peter, mind taking a seat for me?" Tony's voice sounded forced. Like he was trying to sound positive, but a cloud of seriousness cloaked the room. Smothering out the facade before it could even be presented or performed. Looking in the direction Tony had indicated, Peter realised that he was standing next to a time-worn plush couch. Moving around the arm, he sat down and the older pulled a chair over.
Peter watched as Tony spun the seat around and sat down, arms draped across the back. For a moment, Peter had a flash of deja vu, as if this had happened before. Almost as if he was about to relive a scene of his life. His spidey sense tingled in the back of his mind. He tensed for a second, but then it was gone. Like it never was there, to begin with. On the tip of his tongue, he felt as if he was about to lie. Not out of spite, but in confusion. But what was there to be confused about?
Taking a breath, he looked up at Tony. His face was stoic, as if not trying to give anything away before he had a chance to speak.
Peter felt as if the entire moment was wrong. That they should be interrupting each other, on different pages. Instead, they simply looked at each other, almost with a sense of understanding. Watching as Tony ran a hand through his hair, he heard that tired voice speak again.
"How long?" It was short, simple, to the point, and yet vague. How long what? His mind immediately went to his first paranoid fill in the blank, 'how long have you been Spiderman?' It was illogical and sent him back into his disorienting state of deja vu.
Shaking his head to push away his thoughts, he simply nudged for clarification. "How long what?"
Hearing a slight 'tch' the teen watched Tony slowly stand up and sit down next to him.
"You know what I mean Peter." He voice was quiet, barely a whisper. It was as if he believed that even his words were strong enough to hurt Peter. Slowly turning over Peter's wrist, gently like it was made of shatter glass and turned it over. Pulling the fabric up, he revealed the clinical white gauze. If it weren't for the subtle sting, Peter could almost trick himself into believing that it was just there for show.
Watching as Tony began to unravel the shield from his arm, the fabric-esque item fell away to reveal puffy red lines, freshly scabbed over.
"How long have you been cutting?"
End of Chapter Ten
I'm so tired. It should be illegal to be this tired. You better believe I going straight to sleep once this is uploaded. Apologies in advance for any and all spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Technologie can only help so much. I promise I'll go back and edit this in the morning. Probably...
Hope you enjoyed the story so far! And I will see you, in the next chapter!