iron isn’t indestructible.
under tremendous pressure or intense heat it can rust, crack, warp, or even melt.
iron will burn with the intensity of a thousand suns, glow with the embers of fire. but no matter how much pressure is applied or how high the temperature, iron won’t break, iron can’t break.
but humans can.
tony stark has been put under terrible pressure, he has endured sweltering heat. his entire life has been shaped by betrayal, loss, hardship, pain.
he has rusted, cracked, warped, melted, but he hasn’t broken. not yet.
not until a child with too bright eyes and wild brown curls fell apart in his arms. a child with an insatiable sense of wonder and inexhaustible joy, a child with a brilliant smile and an infectious laugh.
tony stark didn’t break until he was forced to watch his child crumble into dust.
and when he broke, he shattered.
tony stark does not do things half way.
tony stark glared at the abyss, raged at the universe, screamed into the open expanse. he stormed and glowered and blazed and yelled.
he stared into the universe and dared it to smite him and the universe gazed back, indifferent and cold. without care or feeling or sympathy for the plight of an ironclad mortal, an armored man. the universe doesn’t care for broken humans, it doesn’t bother itself with the affairs of mere men.
he asked it why and begged for answers, begged for death. his voice echoed into the darkness, bouncing forever through the void, greeted only by silence.
tony stark was made of iron, but even iron can come undone.
tony stark was a god among men, but even gods can fall.
& when they hit the ground they hit the ground hard.
and so when tony stark left the hallowed planet of titan, he left himself behind in the dusty dirt. tony stark died with his son, on the fiery ground of a burning planet and all that was left was a husk, a shell, a broken man.
tony and peter left earth together, side by side, and neither of them reentered the earth’s atmosphere.
when tony stark stepped foot on earth again he did so as a ghost. he went through the motions.
he forced himself to break the news to peter’s aunt, and he let her scream and cry and beg and rage at him without a reaction. he deserved it. he stood stony and still in the apartment entrance and weathered the storm, he didn’t allow himself the luxury of commiserating, he didn’t deserve it. but then when she wore herself out and regained her composure, and told him in a shaky voice that she didn’t blame him he walked out. because he didn’t deserve that either.
he reunited with pepper, but there was no more talk of babies or marriage, just an indefinitely postponed wedding and a broken love. he couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate, to try anymore, everyone he ever loved left him. some in worse ways than others. it would be better to eliminate the people close to him, to limit those he loved, to protect them. they didn’t deserve to be put on his war path, to experience the wreckage that always seemed to follow in his wake.
he dismissed happy with a full bank account and a signed contract to never contact him again.
he didn’t answer rhodey’s calls, and when he flew to the compound, demanding to see him, he allowed for one stiff conversation, refusing to talk, shutting him out. rhodey left reluctantly, practically forced out, and as he went he told tony that no matter how much he shut him out he would still be there for him no matter what. the door closed in his face with an audible click.
FRIDAY told him that the other avengers tried to contact him, sent texts and calls, some of them even showed up to the compound. but he didn’t pick up, he didn’t answer, he shut everyone out.
he locked himself away, in his lab, his haven. although it couldn’t really be called that anymore. it wasn’t the same without peter. he was used to a second opinion, another presence, excited questions and smart advice, bubbling laughter and stupid jokes. now it was cold and empty and silent.
he couldn’t bring himself to clear off peter’s lab station. he left his project untouched.
there was talk of holding funerals for those who disappeared. tony wouldn’t dream of it.
life was at a standstill. it didn’t matter anymore.
tony stayed in his workshop, tinkering and drinking and trying to forget.
but he couldn’t stop remembering.
he tinkered to distract and drank to forget but some things you remember forever.
he could never forget peter. useless facts and stupid tidbits of information that cluttered his brain.
peter stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating hard. he always cuffed his jeans and double knotted his shoes.
he had strong movie opinions and loved star wars, and he would insist vehemently that all the prequel hate was unwarrented.
he thought the harry potter books were a hundred times better than the movies and he reread them at least once a year.
he wasn’t a morning person and when he first woke up his curls stuck up all over the place, a crazy bed head that took him a half hour to fix.
he blamed himself for his uncle’s death and he still had nightmares about it occasionally. ever since vulture he was claustrophobic and hated tight spaces.
he loved hot chocolate and refused to drink coffee, claiming it tasted like pissy gasoline.
he didn’t even really like legos but he did them because he knew ned did and he wanted to make him happy. mj got him obsessed with hamilton and he listened to the soundtrack on repeat.
he refused to leave home without his webshooters because just in case mr. stark! even though he regularly ran out of fluid.
he always made his math binder blue and his english binder red, and he claimed each subject had an assigned color. his best subject was chemistry but he loved physics the most.
his favorite ice cream flavor was mint chocolate chip but he would eat anything (except banana because blah!)
he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, he still didn’t know how to snap his fingers, and could only do a shrill whistle.
the only thing that could calm him when he was sick or upset was when tony or may played with his hair.
he was a beautiful, wonderful, fascinating, smart, moral, strong, brave, good kid. an enigma, a paradox of existence. how could someone that pure exist in this world? maybe that’s why the universe took him.
how could tony live in a world that didn’t contain peter parker? how could he inhabit a planet that was missing such a fundamental part of existence?
how could he justify taking up oxygen when peter couldn’t? how could he exist when peter didn’t?
how could he remember without it hurting?
and worse, how could he bear to forget?
because thinking about peter felt like a sword to the side, a knife to the heart. it burned and ached and hurt so badly, it set him on fire.
but the idea of forgetting peter?
that felt like death.
tony didn’t dare to live while peter could not. he couldn’t bear the thought of being happy without him, couldn’t handle the idea of moving on.
so he coped the only way he knew how.
he pushed everyone away and locked himself up and drank and built and tinkered and obsessed and forced himself to remember.
he played a film by peter parker until it was branded into his mind. he listened to hamilton until the lyrics seared themselves within him. he watched star wars until he memorized all the lines.
he would pay his penance for allowing peter to die, torture himself with the knowledge that he could’ve saved him.
he sought pain just so he could feel something and then he grieved so intensely he drank just to numb it.
an endless cycle. masochism, grief and guilt expressed by torturing himself with memories and then drowning the pain in bitter whiskey, anything to dull the sharp grief.
anything to feel again and then anything to stop feeling.
grieve. remember everything and wish to forget. drink to relieve the pain. tinker to distract from it. try to forget. fail miserably. grieve and remember. again and again.
I need to remember, I want to forget.
I need to live, I want to die.
the memories were a lifeline, keeping him afloat. the memories were poison, slowly drowning him.
if I remember I will suffer, I will burn.
if I forget I will fade, I will freeze.
remembering allowed him to hold on, to keep peter with him.
forgetting allowed him to sink into unawareness, a numb bliss.
remembering made him choke on ash, suffocate on dust.
forgetting meant peter was lost forever, truly dust in the wind.
I need the pain to stop.
I need the pain to feel.
he didn’t want to feel anymore, feeling meant pain. but then, he also wanted the pain. he deserved to suffer.
life was bitter whiskey and burning guilt, salty tears and icy regret.
remembering was fire but forgetting was ice.
would you rather burn?
or freeze?
or b r e a k ?
iron melts and hardens and reforms and recasts. heat melts it down and coldness hardens it. iron doesn’t break.
but tony stark does.
he crumbled.
from iron to ash, just like that.