Marvel Imagines

027 - Tony Stark - life got in between

A/N : here's a little imagine inspired by Hold Back The River by James Bay and 90 days by P!nk. Très angsty but we'll ignore that for the moment. Also, wrote this in first person just because :) 

The radio played as I stood in the centre of the kitchen, the lights off and a chill blowing the curtains into disarray. I was cold but I wouldn't close it. 

I needed to be numb; needed to be cold so I couldn't feel anything because if I could feel one thing, no matter how small, the floodgates would open and I wouldn't be able to shut them. 

Thoughtlessly, I reached for the bottle of whisky that sat on the alcohol rack to my left. I hadn't drank in years but my mind overlooked that in favour of getting so drunk that I'd fall asleep. Once my lips touched the cool glass I couldn't stop - swallowing down deep gulps until all the amber liquid was gone, leaving only faint remnants at the bottom. The same happened with two more bottles.

A sudden surge of anger coursed through me and, rather than place the third empty bottle on the side with the other two, I drew back my arm and hurtled it into the hallway mirror across the kitchen. A shattering sound followed as the mirror cracked and shards of glass fell all over the carpet at my feet. 

I dropped to my knees. I could feel the blood pouring from them but I no longer cared. Moments later, after placing my hands down too, they were also covered with blood and grazed; peppered with fine fragments of glass. It was all I could focus on even when the front door opened.

Tony was home.

"What the..." he exclaimed before his voice dropped to a broken whisper. "Oh my god -"

"I'm fine," I said. My voice barely even sounded like my own, something that must have only scared him more. Without properly considering my actions, I rose to my feet. I could feel every single one of the glass shards digging into my knees shifting painfully. "I need to leave."

Tony looked on at me, tears in his eyes as he blocked my path. His hands reached out and gripped my shoulders. The emotion that filled his voice was enough to reduce me to tears too. "Why?"

"I love you. I love you but I don't want you to hurt me by leaving when you eventually get bored of me - when the novelty wears off like it always does and your attentions focus on a new conquest. I don't want to be here when that happens so I'm leaving. This way, we end things whilst everything is good and happy."

"But...but I'm not happy and this is not good." Tony's hands dropped to hold mine. "I'm not going to hurt you; you're the only one I want. You'll always be more than enough - more than I deserve."

Emotion was flooding his voice and tears were streaming down his face. The cuffs of his smart shirt were rapidly being soaked by my blood. He followed my gaze and then released my hands.

I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't see him leave. However, instead of the door opening, a drawer did. Something soft and warm was placed over my left palm followed by the same feeling on my right. My eyes opened to see Tony securing towels around my hands and fastening them like gloves with safety pins. He met my eyes again. "I'm taking you to see Bruce."

"Just drop me off outside the ER," I replied weakly. My anger was fading off into embarrassment for my actions. I barely wanted him there, never mind allowing Bruce to see what my sheer stupidity had done. "There's no need to take me to Bruce, it's only a few cuts."

He wiped the last few tears off of his cheeks then rolled his sleeves up. Without argument, he simply repeated his last statement with such a sense of finality that I gave in and nodded. Then, by way of apology for my beyond irrational behaviour, I let him lead me out of the apartment and down the hall to Bruce's lab without a fight. That was one of the many perks of living in the Avenger's compound; everyone was always a stone's throw away. 

We passed Steve in the hallway but before he could ask why my hands were wrapped in tea towels like a mummy, Tony shot him a deadly glare and muttered, "Not now, Rogers."

When we got to Bruce, he let us in without hesitation, cleared the workbench then grabbed his medical kit. A mix of confusion and worry formed on his face as he peeled off the towels one hand at a time. "What happened?"

"It's all my fault," Tony muttered before I could speak.

Bruce's jaw dropped. "What the hell did you do, Tony? Look at her hands...oh god, her knees!" 

Tony stood beside me with a distant look in his teary eyes while Bruce looked ready to square up; he'd always been protective over me since the day I stepped foot in the compound with Tony. I set him straight before any more damage could be done. "No, Bruce, it wasn't him. Just ignore him. I was feeling down and I drank a bit too much: I smashed a mirror with a bottle and then I just kind of kneeled down in the glass. It was an accident."

Bruce swore under his breath then started to treat me, cleaning each and every wound with care and light, soothing touches. When he was done cleaning out the shards of glass, he wrapped my hands and knees in a thin layer of bandages then told us we could go.

As soon as we were out and down the hallway, Tony pulled me to one side. He was crying again.

I expected him to be mad; to shout at me for what I did because I felt like that's what I deserved. Instead, he took me by surprise. He pulled me into his arms and we held each other for what felt like an eternity. 

After a while, he broke the comfortable silence that had settled between us and whispered, "You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who will never lie to you and will always put you first, no matter what. I'm going to spend all my time on this earth trying to be that man for you because I love you more than any other man ever could."

"I love you," I whispered into his chest.

"I love you more," he whispered back.