Monday: Tony didn’t come to school.
Not that Steve was, you know, looking for him. But it was odd to not see him sitting at the back of the classroom scribbling away fanatically in that ragged old notebook of his. Maybe he was sick?
Tuesday: Tony still wasn’t present.
Steve brought it up with his friends, but no one seemed hugely concerned. “He probably has a stomach bug or something, You know, puking and shitting.” were Bucky’s charming words.
“I hope he’s alright,” Were Bruce’s slightly more concerned thoughts as he gave his glasses a quick polish.
Wednesday? Still no Tony.
Time to approach his friend.
“Hey, uh. Rhodey, I mean Rhodes.” Probably not a good idea to go in straight away with the nick name that Steve had overheard Tony use referring to the slightly irritated-looking boy who he only really knew from football practise.
“Need something, Rogers?” came the slightly gruff reply.
“I, I was just well, I was just wondering if you’d heard from Ton- Stark? Tony Stark? I saw he hasn’t been in this week and wanted to make sure he was, uh. Ok.”
The other boy stared at Steve for a few long (probably not really as long as they felt) moments. Before eventually replying with a “Why do you want to know? You’re not friends.”
“I’d like to be!” was the instantaneous reply, as well as the first time that Steve stared directly, challengingly, into the other boy’s eyes.
Rhodey allowed one eyebrow to raise in which was clearly a less than subtle mimicry of somebody who could do that motion a lot better than Rhodey himself could. Steve couldn’t prevent the corner of his mouth from wiggling in amusement, despite his concern. “You look like an idiot!” he eventually snorted, causing Rhodey to relax his facial muscles and offer up a grin.
“Yeah… that’s something a friend outside of school can do, Pepper. She looks so… sarcastic? And in control? When she does it. It’s harder than it looks, alright?” There were clear overtones of laughter in the other boys voice at least now.
“You might need to work on it a bit,” grinned back Steve, glad that the ice appeared to have broken. “Anyway, Tony?”
Now the amusement disappeared and concern was easily present. “I actually don’t know, man. He isn’t responding to texts or anything. Went off-grid on Saturday – we usually game online on Sundays. It’s not like him. I’m going round tonight after school to check on him as his bastard Dad’s out late at meetings every Wednesday.”
“Can I come?” the words burst out before Steve had even had a chance to think over his schedule. He was car-sharing with Bucky today… but the other boy could always pick him up later, right? He’d moan, but Bucky liked moaning. It made him happy.
Rhodes eyeballed him for a good few moments this time. “He might…not be very happy. Listen. If you let this get out, I will smash your perfect teeth in, alright?” He waited for Steve’s nod before cautiously continuing, “Tony has pretty bad problems with depression. Life isn’t easy for him, you know? Stuck in classes with everyone older than him, his Dad isn’t in the running for any Father of the year medals either, you know?”
As Rhodey’s voice trailed off, Steve could easily hear that there were things he wasn’t saying. His position as Tony’s best friend no doubt hard to pass on the other boy’s confidential information, but it was easy to see how concerned the boy was.
“Tony will be so mad with me when he knows I’ve told you that, and rightfully so…” Rhodey’s shoulders slumped slightly causing Steve to rest his hand on one broad muscle.
“Well, he won’t hear about it from me.” Rhodey nodded, unease in his gaze.
The pair arranged to meet by the bus stop after school and walk the short distance to Tony’s home from there.
For Steve, the rest of the day dragged by even more slowly than all the days previous combined. Each time he checked his watch, he hoped that at least an hour would have passed. But…nope. Barely five minutes. Steve cursed, letting his head fall onto his desk in despair.
Finally the boys were standing outside Tony’s house. It was, well, fairly average looking. An old-build from about the 80s, with slats that needed a lick of paint and a pretty battered porch, complete with falling apart loveseat and bit of unmown grass. The house just felt… neglected. Filling Steve with nothing like the warm, homely feeling that his home gave him.
Steve followed Rhodey up the path and in through the unlocked door. Security much? “Tones?” shouted Rhodey as he toes off his shoes and jogged up the stairs to the right hand side of the door.
Silence.
Steve followed suit.
Rhodey knocked on a door with childish lettering made from elderly-looking robots proclaiming this to be ‘Tony’s Room’ and an even more elderly-looking scribbled handwritten note instructing all ‘Trespasirs’ to ‘KEEP OWT OR ELSE!’. Steve didn’t bother to hide the quick grin.
“Tones?”
Rhodey’s voice rung out again quietly, none of Steve’s quick amusement present in his tone.
He knocked again before calling out “I’m coming in,” and twisting the door handle a moment later.
“Oh, buddy…”
Were the first words as the pair stepped into the room.
It was, well, a pit was putting it lightly. Bits of mechanics spread everywhere, clothes strewn on the floor… and there, on the floor by the bed, was Tony. Leaning back and staring upwards into space with a blanket wrapped around him and a soldering iron lying next him, it’s use clearly indicated in the burn marks that ran up Tony’s arm.
“Hey Rhodey…” came the unexpectedly gravelly voice, a clear indicator that the 16-year hadn’t done much talking in the recent days. Or drinking.
Steve immediately turned around and jogged back downstairs leaving the two friends to it. He found his way to a kitchen, found a glass which he rinsed through a couple of times before filling with nice cold water which he brought back upstairs.
The sight of Tony crying on his best friend’s shoulder made his …stomach twist? His heart? Something inside felt just wrong. “Uh. Here.” He said, awkwardly handing over the glass, trying to catch the younger boy’s eye.
“Rhodey says you’re not here just for the freak show…” came the embittered words, despite the trembling hand reaching out and accepting the glass.
“No.” came Steve’s soft reply as he sat down on Tony’s other side. “I’m here to help,”
And so they did.
Not in that hour, not even that day.
The pair did get Tony back to school for the following Monday. Then he relapsed again and nearly had to be admitted to hospital.
But they kept on trying.
Steve’s other friends got in on the act too, and soon Tony had a solid friend base which did wonders for him. It wasn’t a smooth journey. There were screaming and shouting matches. There were threats of running away. There were bouts of crying so jagged that Steve feared Tony would rip apart beneath them.
But he slowly improved. He began to regularly attend school again, passed the year with flying colours. He moved in with Rhodey which helped, leaving the cold, sad house. And when he was 18, and Steve was 21? Well. Then they started holding hands. And kissing. And eventually further things beyond that.
But that? That’s their story.