Why when you could drink?
Tony gathered his tools and headed out of your apartment.
He knew something was wrong, something was very wrong. Yet, you wouldn’t tell him, and he didn’t know why you wouldn’t.
Why wouldn’t you talk to him? He’s been nothing but approachable and patient. In fact, he thought he was doing pretty well so far.
It was like you didn’t want help.
But Tony knew you needed it.
And your apartment. The devastating state of it screamed depression, lack of motivation — Tony knew it all too well, he’s struggled too — why couldn’t you see that? He was just trying to help.
Tony made it back to the Tower, clearing off papers from his desk and sitting down.
Research.
He opened his laptop, starting with an easy few Google searches:
How to get somebody to talk to you
Not a lot of useful information came up — just the basic ‘make a comfortable environment’, ‘show them you can listen’, ‘be patient’ — which, honestly, were all viable things but Tony was already doing them.
How to be approachable
‘Smile’
‘Use positive body language’
‘Offer help’
‘Show interest’
Tony rolled his eyes — he was already doing that, was he not?
He smiled every time he saw you, offered his help when he could — he showed interest. Did you just not like him?
He shut the laptop and stood.
Plan B: warm you up to him.
You weren’t comfortable with him enough to open up? Don’t worry, he’d spend more time with you, do more stuff for you — maybe fix another air conditioner for you. He’d show you that you can trust him, he’d show you that he’d love you.
Tony grabbed his cell and texted you:
I’m free next week? If you want to have a drink or something.
It had been on impulse and now he was freaking out a bit — like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush. But the plus side was that maybe if he could start a conversation with you, you’d ask him to fix another thing in that shoddy apartment — maybe even ask to live in the Tower finally.
He set the phone aside and waited.
A long time, apparently.
You didn’t like to text back particularly quick.
He was already in bed by the time you texted back, saying:
Sure. Sunday sound good?
For sure. I’ll bring whiskey. ;)
He grinned and shut off his phone, setting it aside and snuggling up in his empty bed.