Tony couldn't breathe.
Not in a "help me I'm dying" way (although it felt like he was) but in the labored hyperventilation that came from a panic attack. Why was he even panicking? What had triggered the attack? Hell if he knew. One minute, Tony was grabbing a glass for water, the next, he was hyperventilating. Vaguely, he registered the stinging pain coming from his hands, and the blood now running off his hands onto the black marble countertop.
"I don't wanna go."
Peter's voice rang in his head, choked with tears. Tony still remembered each detail like it was yesterday, from the terrified look on Peter's face to the awful silence that came after the dust settled.
Dust. Tony could see the dust on his hands instead of bleeding cuts. "No, no, God no..."
"It's the only way," The look of fear and regret in Stephen's blue eyes, the green reflecting off the Time Stone was permanently ingrained in his mind. Tony still remembered the way his chest ached when he met Stephen's gaze. It ached of lost loves and new fears. It ached of longing that would never be satisfied.
Tony hated that nameless feeling.
It reminded him of breakups, of Pepper leaving. It reminded Tony of the friends he'd lost due to petty arguments. It reminded him of his past.
He also hated thinking about his past.
Tony's vision was beginning to blur, and he clenched his fists, using the pain from his cuts to keep himself grounded. God, he hated this. Then again, he hated a lot of things, including his stupid panic attacks. Where was Stephen or Peter when Tony needed them?! Unfortunately, Peter was at his college, so he was out of the question for help. Stephen was at the New York Sanctum, but Stephen usually kept his phone on him. Then again, Tony didn't exactly enjoy being fawned over excessively. He hated the helpless child feeling, so Tony would just shove away help. "Goddamn it. "
Tony tried to breathe, inhale for four seconds, exhale for four seconds, something his therapist had taught him. Normally it worked, but today it left him feeling more dizzy. The kitchen dipped and swayed around him, and Tony struggled to stand. His knees conspired against him, and Tony collapsed to the ground, pressing his head between his knees.
Come on, idiot, breathe.
Are you going to let yourself pass out and die like your son and fiancé?
He let out a choked-sounding sob, wiping his tears with one of his bloodied hands. Tony could feel the warm stickiness of the blood mix with the slick tears, but at this point, he could care less. His penthouse was hauntingly silent, aside from his sobs, and all Tony could think of was the painful silence on Titan. He hadn't had the time to say goodbye in the way he wanted to, and he still felt guilty to this day, despite his eventual victory over Thanos and the return of his loved ones. Why didn't he die there? Why was Tony the only one left on Titan? Why him, of all people, playboy millionaire philanthropist? Tony wasn't anything overly special, and of anything, he wished he'd just died there. At least he wouldn't be sobbing on a glass-sprinkled kitchen floor.
There was a whoosh noise behind Tony, and rushed footsteps, but he couldn't bring himself to look or care.
"Tony!"
The person referred to lifted his head to see a pair of wide blue eyes framed by a somewhat tanned face and black hair peppered with gray. Stephen Strange, his fiancé. Stephen ran a hand over Tony's cheek, wiping away a tear and a little blood. "Oh god, are you okay?"
"Do I look okay?!" That came out snappier than he wanted it to, and Tony cringed. Yet, Stephen's concerned gaze didn't waver, and if anything, it got more intense.
Stephen rolled his eyes, and reached for one of Tony's hands. Tony, in a moment of self consciousness, pulled his hands away and held them over his chest. Of course, that just concerned Stephen further and visibly irritated him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "Anthony Stark, give me one of your hands. Please."
"No."
"Oh, bloody hell. Fine, be stubborn."
Tony glanced at the glass sitting on the ground, reflecting light from the setting afternoon sun streaming in through a window. How dare there be a beautiful sunset while Tony was loosing his mind over memories. How. Dare.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Tony could vaguely smell the scent of matcha tea mixed with paper and Old Spice. It was comforting really, and Tony wasn't about to complain. Instead, he sobbed into Stephen's shoulder. "I'm sorry, this is fucking stupid. "
"Oh, Tony," Stephen whispered, scarred hands combing through Tony's hair. "Don't ever say that. You had a panic attack, it's not stupid. "
"Sure. Keep lying to me. You'll probably leave me like Pepper did, because all I do is whine and act like a kicked puppy."
"Who in the hell said that to you?!"
"Me."
Stephen sighed, pulling away from the hug to make his fiancée face him. "Stop it. I'm not leaving you, I promise. You don't whine, and you don't act like a kicked puppy. You have PTSD, and sometimes you have an episode. They suck, I know."
"How...How would you know? You don't have PTSD," Tony replied, wiping away tears that were still coming, never ending.
Stephen smiled, regretful, his eyes shining with memories unbeknownst to Tony at the moment. "Have I ever told you why I went to Khamar Tahg, all the way in Nepal, in the first place?"
"Hmm...Something about a car accident? Being an idiot on the road?"
"Haha, very funny. Yes, I got in a car accident. My nerves in my hands were so damaged, it took seven surgeries for me to even be able to write again. I was ruined. No more neurosurgeries, no more earning money, no more saving lives. I was on my last dollar, stressed, and shoving away the one person who stood by me the whole time. " He paused to flex his left hand, pink scars running in lines along where his bones where. Stephen's hands shook as he did so, yet he was still able to function. His scars didn't hold him back, like Tony's did. "And then my physical therapist told me of a man who had been paralysed in a factory accident, but could walk again. So, I met the guy, and he told me of Khamar Tahg. So, I left the US and headed to Nepal."
"Very motivational. Now what does this have to do with me?"
Stephen rolled his eyes. "Good god, Tony. "
Tony smiled besides himself. Stephen was easy to irritate, but he really only joked. It was one of the many qualities Tony loved about the man.
"As I was saying, I was on my last dollar, and desperate. Khamar Tahg was my last change. And, after working, here I am. I broken but changed man."
Tony raised his eyebrow, wiping away the now slowing tears. "So, what your saying is, if you can fix yourself I can to?"
"No. What I'm saying is, we move on, and we tell ourselves that it's okay, and we're okay. That's part of how I got here. Surround yourself with loved ones, Tony. You have Peter, and you sure as hell have me. We aren't leaving you again, Anthony Stark. We never will."
Tony's chest fluttered, and he could practically hear the truth in the statement. God, he knew there was a reason he fell in love with Stephen. Stephen would always be there, and he made it a point on a daily basis. Plus, Steven was funny and shared similar interests, so all in all, a match. It was nice to have someone to comfort him, to feel loved for once in his life. "Promise me you won't leave."
"I swear on my life and my cloak."
The red Cloak of Levitation swatted it's owner, and Tony laughed quietly. Stephen swatted the cloak back, before returning those blue eyes to his fiancée. "On a more serious note, Tony, are you alright? There's blood on your face and glass literally everywhere."
"Gee, I couldn't tell, Sherlock. Thank you for that enlightening observation."
"Quit being an ass, I'm serious."
"Fine. I broke a glass during my stupid-"
"It's not stupid."
"Shut up, I broke a glass during my panic attack and kinda cut my hands open."
"Good god," Stephen said, blinking in a rapid manner."Come on, I'll clean you up." The taller male stood, extending a scarred hand to his lover, who grimaced and reluctantly stood. Christ, was Stephen overbearingly caring. Tony couldn't tell if he loved it or hated it.
"I love you, Harry Potter wannabe," Tony said as Stephen cleaned his hands in the sink and inspected the cuts for glass. Stephen glared at him for a moment, before returning to his diligent task of searching for glass shards.
"I love you too, jerk."