Chapter-10: London

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"A coffin is too ordinary for your body. I'd bury you in my own arms"-Dhruv Sharma


(AMARA'S POV):


"Welcome to London," I said while getting on the train, which took us to the hotel. 
"Have you ever come here?" I asked. 

"No, well, I didn't even know I had the visa. Mr Stark just showed it to me in the morning. Thinking back, it's kinda weird that he even had my passport in the first place, Ama. Wait, how did he even get the documents..." Peter quietly thought, sitting down. 

Tony had a habit of being stalkerish.

Peter and I shared headphones, listening to music as we bobbed our heads.

As we got off, and the London sunlight hit our faces, I saw a huge smile on his face as we walked to the hotel. 

We were slowly walking through the streets of London, looking everywhere as we went, and laughing, our suitcases in tow.
"I know exactly what we'll do! Come on, we need to go to the hotel and drop off the bags quickly!" I started walking faster, the suitcase dragging behind me.

We ran to the Hotel quickly, and thankfully Tony had already checked in for us. So we just had to get our keycards and put our bags in the room. 

"First stop; food!" 

We arrived at Victoria Park, and I darted straight for The Fryer.
"What's this?" Peter ran after me.
"Only the best fish and chips in the entire city!" I laughed.
We booked a table and sat down hurriedly. We had exactly three hours to spare before we had to be back at the hotel. 


"I'll order for the both of us. You're okay with that, right?" I asked. He nodded, so I continued.
 I ordered multiple items and thanked the waiter.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" I asked him weirdly. He was staring at me with this glint in his eyes, and it amused me, but at the same time made me tinged with embarrassment.
"You're so cool."

If only he knew how much I wished I had the capacity to love him.

"Well, that's random."
"Smile for a picture?" Peter took out his Polaroid.
"No! I won't have a picture without the both of us," I grabbed the camera and held it upwards, so both our faces came in the photo.
"I'll keep this." Peter smiled, putting the photo in his jacket pocket.

The second stop was the park.

"This is the park. I know it isn't a lot, but I've always wanted a nighttime stroll here." I muttered.

"This place is beautiful," Peter said, looking around. 
"Look, there are swans there! I've never seen them like this before!"  He excitedly said.

I stole his Polaroid and took pictures of the swans, and Peter and I feeding them. I stuffed the rest of the pictures in his hoodie pocket secretly, and we continued walking. 

We looked around, for a few minutes, and then walked back to the hotel, chatting. 
The August air of London seemed to kick in, and Peter was getting cold. 

"Pete, wanna go back to the hotel?" I asked gently. He was probably tired, because of jetlag.

"Yes, please," he said, shivering.

Walking to our hotel, I couldn't help but think of how amazing this day was. It wouldn't take even a second for someone to say that I wasn't ultimately and totally infatuated with Peter. Today felt so special and intimate. I felt the need to pull away from him, save him from the destruction that came being associated with me, but I ignored it.

We were across the ocean. Nobody cares here. 

 As I saw the bleeding sun, I felt Peter's gaze. 

"You're staring, Parker," I smirked.
"How would you know that unless you were too?" He retaliated.

"I have a third eye at the back of my head. It helps me see everything going on behind me." I gave Peter the old tale my mother fed my brother and me so many years ago when we tried to steal more sweet modaks, filled with jaggery and coconut, from the plate in the kitchen. 

I told him the same things, keeping our mother alive through our vernacular, stolen from us as we swam across the world, ending up in the middle of a family of misfits, re-learning what culture was, and where we were placed in between it. 

What was home? 

I miss her so much. 

"Wait, seriously?" His voice said, wondrous, dragging me back to reality, and immediately, his fingers flew up to my hair, removing my ponytail and parting my hair.

"No!" I squealed, shoving his fingers away.
"It's an old tale my mum told me and my brother to stop us from stealing desserts!" I laughed.

"Oh." 

He stood there, disappointed.
"Well, um, after seeing Mr. Loki and Mr. Thor, anything seems possible." He scratched the back of his neck.

"True, though."

I felt at home.


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