Anything
You and Tony ate in near silence — tense, almost. Why was it so hard to talk to him? You’ve been teammates with him since the beginning — since 2012. Only four or so years ago…
Tony didn’t seem affected by the silence; he seemed comfortable, eating his food, casting glances at you every so often.
But it was nerve wracking for you.
“How’s your apartment?” Tony asked eventually.
Him asking about the shitty, low-grade apartment you’ve been living in instead of the Tower reminded you of your fucked air conditioner.
The air conditioner had been broken since you moved in — since the last owner blasted it and broke it. It was also the reason it’s been getting harder and harder to sleep every night — on top of everything else.
But those were inside thoughts, things you didn’t need to tell Tony about. He’s already got too much on his plate to help you.
“Good,” you answered simply, keeping your gaze on your food as you nibbled the wontons.
Tony nodded.
“You’re sleeping well, then?” Tony gestured vaguely to his face.
It wasn’t a surprising question, really, giving how noticeable your eye bags have been getting, how red the whites of your eyes were.
So, you nodded, staring down at the chow mein you were twirling around a plastic fork.
But Tony still eyed you, suspiciously, too. It wasn’t a good feeling. It didn’t sit right with you — not when you already had to act okay with eating.
“The… air conditioner’s been acting up recently,” you explained, feeling the need to provide some reasoning — or it would just look… concerning.
“Oh? Need help with it?” Tony offered. “Pretty handy with those things, had to install them multiple times, multiple places.”
It’d fix a lot — make laying down to sleep a bit more bearable. A bit more tolerable. It still brought that ache to your ribs, guilt. Tony had a lot on his plate, helping you wouldn’t feel… great.
But, a selfish part of you wanted this. You reminded yourself it was selfish. You’d cut more later, you decided. Make up for it.
”Yeah, thanks,” you said, willing a small smile to form on your lips. “The thing’s been broken for…” months. Years.
You shook your head, choosing to trail off. Tony didn’t need to know how long that’d been an annoyance — he’d ask why you hadn’t asked him to fix it. Why you didn’t tell him things.
Why you didn’t tell anybody anything.
Tony didn’t finish your sentence. “How’s tomorrow sound? I have a few things to do but I can drop by around ten?”
“Yeah. Great. That’d be great.”
Tony finished his food before you, leaning back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.
He might’ve done it out of courtesy, or because he didn’t want to look at you, but he kept his eyes anywhere but you.
You decided that you couldn’t eat anymore at that; you pushed your carton of food to the side, feeling that revulsion that sourced from your full stomach.
Tony looked up at you when you stood, straightening up a bit, asking, “where’re you going?”
“Uhm, home,” you answered, again, putting on the best smile you could. Muscling up some kindness. “I’m a bit tired, finished the reports and all. Thanks for the food, it was… it was good.”
Tony nodded, standing up as well and placing a hand on the back of your elbow.
“Need anything else?” He smiled, his furrowed brow betraying the suspicious kindness he had adapted.
“No. But thanks, really, it was good.”
“Okay… you tell me if you need anything.”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You quickly grabbed your jacket and other belongings, heading out of the office’s door.
Those words felt foreign, something you couldn’t imagine hearing on a daily basis. And yet, though it felt… good to be told that, you hated it. It made you feel like you couldn’t take care of yourself. You could. You have been. You will be.
You don’t need anybody else.
You got into your car, igniting the engine and starting towards your apartment.