(Tony's POV)

I woke up the next morning in the hospital room with Peter in the hospital bed, snoring lightly. I studied him, looking at every beautiful feature of his face. 4 months, less than half a year, 121 days, until I would have to say goodbye to the only thing that I truly loved and cared for. I would have to say goodbye to my happy, bright, child. I remember the day I adopted him. It was an eerily quiet day, the shade of the buildings giving me a slight chill. I was walking to my meeting in Queens, down 42nd street. Then I heard screams. Ear-piercing, terrified screams. I started running down the street, and as I turned the corner, I saw it. A burning brick building, an orphanage. Children, screaming and crying heard from the inside. I looked to my left and saw a crowd and a middle aged woman, crying with 5 children at her side. Before I knew it, my instincts had kicked in and I was running into the building, grabbing children that were old enough and pointed them down the stairs, taking younger children with them. After getting what I thought was all of the children out of the building, I ran up to the top floor. Black smoke limmited my vision, but I heard a baby's imploring

cries. I followed the cries, and found the small child only about three months old. I picked him up and held him close to my chest as I stumbled down the stairs, coughing vigorously. I finally made it down and out of the building, and i fell to my knees, panting and hacking up a lung. Firemen picked me up by the arms and took the young child from me. I was pulled over to an ambulance where they gave my an oxygen mask and a blanket. The police officers asked me question after question, but I couldn't focus. I could only think of the screaming child I had held close to my chest. There was something about it, something delicate and yet so influential on me. I thought about that baby's big, beautiful brown eyes. His soft cry into my suit. His soft but messy brown hair. There was something about it I couldn't shake. After about 15 minutes of sitting with the bright orange blanket around me, I finally got up to check on the children that I sent down the stairs while I was searching for others in the building. I found the woman who I had seen earlier outside of the building, hugging the children and consoleing them of their worries. I stood in front of her and she shot up, thanking me for saving the children. She wore long flowy pants and a black undershirt, her wavy brown hair covering most of it. She had a small child in a sling across her chest. The child I had carried out of the building. "Yeah, yeah, no problem." I cut her short of her thanks. "What's his name?" I said, pointing down to the child. "Oh, this is Peter! He's only 3 months. His parents died in a car crash on the car ride over to the hospital to deliver him, but they got into a car crash. They were so lucky to save him!" She said the last part in a cheery voice. I thought about what the woman had said. Did I really want to take on the responsibility of an actual child? But before I knew it, I had stammered out, "I-is he up for adoption?" She grinned and yelped, "Yes! Yes, he is! Would you like to make him your child?" I let out a soft smile. "Yes." And after that moment, it was only happiness. I was able to pick Peter up from a brand new orphanage (That I funded) a month later, and I loved him more than anything. I watched him grow up, celebrate birthdays, laugh, cry. I saw everything, and I loved it all. I'm brought back to reality by the slow movements of Peter and his soft groans. He slowly sat up and looked at me, his sually dancing eyes still for once. He let out a sigh and asked, "Ready to go?" I nodded quietly and we packed up all of his things and walked into the waiting room to pick up his medicine. The nurse smiled at us and handed us the bottle. How could anybody be happy? How could anybody smile? I felt tears sting the back of my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I didn't want Peter to see me upset. I threw my arm around him and walked him over to the car. We got in and I looked over at Pete. He was looking straight ahead, but I could still see his eyes, for the most part. They looked glossed over, bleak. I broke my gase when he finally glanced over. "C-can we maybe go home? I kinda want to go to my room..." he mumbled. "Are you sure? We can go out to eat or something, go get some shawarma?" I babled, clearly just trying to fill the space with something. "I'm sure." He whispered, looking down at his lap. "Okay," I whispered as I started the car. "Alright."

//Hey, so just a note: please comment and stuff, it really keeps me going, and tell me how to make these better. Thanks\