I'm fr losing it

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU HELD THE INVITATION out to him, hands trembling slightly with excitement. “It’s this Saturday,” you said, voice soft but eager. “It’s a science fair, and I’ve been working really hard on this project. I thought… maybe you’d like to come?”

Tony barely looked up, the usual hum of his holographic screens reflecting in his tired eyes. But then he caught sight of the hope in your gaze, and he finally nodded, taking the invitation with a small smile. “Yeah, sure, kiddo,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

That simple promise was enough for you. Every evening that week, you stayed up late perfecting each part of the project, tweaking every detail. You didn’t want to win the science fair; you just wanted Tony to see it, to see you, and to feel proud.

When Saturday arrived, you were nervous but excited. You set up your stall carefully, double-checking each piece of the project display, hoping it would be something that would catch his eye. As people wandered through the fair, they stopped by your booth, impressed by the level of detail and precision in your work.

But every time you scanned the crowd, you didn’t see him. Your heart sank as parents, teachers, and students came and went, praising your project. The minutes slipped by, and the fair began to wind down. The chair beside you remained empty.

Finally, the awards were announced. They called your name, and a polite round of applause filled the room as you accepted the medal and certificate, trying to smile as people congratulated you. You told yourself it didn’t matter. It was just another award, another paper. But deep down, you felt the disappointment settle like a weight in your chest. You didn’t want the medal—you wanted him to be there, even just to see you in the crowd.

Later that night, Tony stepped out of his workshop, exhausted but satisfied with his work. He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a drink and mindlessly sipping when his gaze fell on something bright and familiar—the invitation you’d given him, stuck to the fridge door.

The words “Science Fair” stood out in big, hopeful letters.

He froze, feeling his stomach twist with guilt as he read the details: Saturday, 2 PM. It was hours past now. He’d missed it. And you’d been waiting, hoping he’d show.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, setting his glass down hard enough to make the ice clink. Panic flickered in his chest as he wondered if he could still make it. He’d go, tell you he was sorry, anything to make up for it. He was about to leave when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Tony,” Natasha’s voice was low but carried a weight of disappointment. She stood at the kitchen entrance, her arms crossed as she looked at him with a quiet, disappointed frown. “I picked her up an hour ago.”

Her words hit him harder than he’d expected, and his shoulders sagged. He had missed it, and not just by a few minutes. He’d missed you showing your project, your moment, everything.

Without another word, he made his way to your room, heart heavy with regret. He stopped in front of your door, hesitating. A soft knock, and he waited. When no response came, he opened the door quietly, stepping inside.

The sight made his chest tighten. You were asleep on the floor, curled up against the bed, your cheeks stained with dried tears. Next to you, the medal and certificate were tossed aside, the project itself lying on its side, carelessly left where you must’ve dropped it. His heart clenched seeing the once carefully crafted project in pieces, as if it were something you no longer cared about, just like you must have felt he didn’t care.

Tony crouched down, lifting the project gently and turning it over in his hands. His eyes widened as he realized what you’d been working on—an arc reactor prototype, similar to his own designs, with an ingenious twist on the core structure. It was something he’d been experimenting with in his own work, but you’d done it independently. Quietly. He could see the hours you’d poured into it, the dedication in every small piece.

His gaze shifted to the medal and certificate, his thumb brushing over the engraved words: First Place, Science Fair.

He picked up the project, medal, and certificate, gently placing them on your desk, handling them with the care you’d given them in the first place. After a moment’s thought, he walked down the hall to the room where his collection of awards and trophies sat, things he’d earned and displayed with pride. He added your certificate and medal to the shelf among them, a quiet acknowledgment of your accomplishment, and of the pride he should’ve shown you himself.

Returning to your room, he leaned down and carefully gathered you in his arms, lifting you from the floor. You shifted slightly in his hold, but you didn’t wake. He gently placed you on your bed, pulling a blanket over you and brushing a few strands of hair from your face. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry, kiddo.”

He pulled back, watching you with a mix of regret and sadness. You deserved a father who showed up, a father who was there to tell you how proud he was. He’d promised you once before, and he’d broken that promise again. But seeing the tear stains on your cheeks and the way you’d fallen asleep waiting, he vowed, right then and there, to make things right.

After the science fair, something inside you changed. You had spent years hoping, wishing for Tony’s attention, his presence. But that day, sitting alone as he’d failed to show up yet again, you felt something break. Maybe it was the last piece of hope you’d held onto, or maybe it was the realization that you couldn’t keep waiting for him.

The disappointment was too much, and you decided you were done.

From that day on, you stopped seeking him out, stopped waiting for the promises he never kept. You didn’t make him coffee in the mornings, didn’t check if he’d eaten. You stopped wandering into his lab, hoping he might turn around and finally see you. Instead, you kept to yourself, focusing on school, friends, and the occasional training session with the Avengers. When you did cross paths with Tony, you barely said a word, nodding politely before walking away.

At first, Tony didn’t notice, assuming you were just busy. But after a few days, he realized that he hadn’t seen you come by the workshop. You hadn’t shown up with coffee, hadn’t peeked into his lab to see what he was working on. He started to notice the quiet absence of your presence, the hollow ache that settled in his chest when he realized that you were no longer there, waiting for him.

He began trying to find ways to pull you back. He left notes on your door, asking if you wanted to join him for a quick meal, but you didn’t respond. He tried to catch you before school, only to find you’d already left early. Once or twice, he even came into the kitchen to find you already grabbing your things to head out, barely looking his way as you passed him.

The tables had turned, and now he was the one chasing your attention. And each time you walked past him, it was a reminder of the countless times he’d done the same to you.

Tony tried harder, desperate to reach you. He’d show up at your school events unannounced, hovering at the back of the room, hoping to catch you. When he did manage to see you, he’d smile, wave, but you’d turn away before he could approach.

One day, he waited for you in the kitchen after school, hoping you’d talk to him. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual.

You barely nodded, giving him a half-hearted wave before turning away, as if he were just another face in the tower.

The realization stung—he was a stranger to you now, a shadow in the very place he’d thought he’d always be the brightest.

You’d always had a habit of fussing over Tony before missions, even though he brushed it off with a laugh or a smirk every time. You’d run over to him, throwing your arms around him in a quick hug, muttering a soft “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” It was something he’d come to expect—a ritual, in a way. But this time, as he and the Avengers prepared to head out, you were nowhere near him.

He waited, lingering by the Quinjet, scanning the hallways for you. The other Avengers gave him a curious glance, noticing his rare display of hesitation.

But you didn’t come to him. You were busy talking to Steve, listening to Natasha’s quick pointers on handling herself if anything went wrong in the tower, and as you stood there, you didn’t even glance his way.

Tony tried to brush off the pang of disappointment that settled in his chest. It was strange, seeing you so distant, so unaffected as if he was just another face in the tower. He had known you’d started pulling away, but this—this was different. He’d started to miss you in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and the absence of your hug and your quiet words lingered with him as the Quinjet door closed, and they headed off to the mission.

Hours passed, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Normally, you’d distract yourself while they were away, maybe even work on a project in the workshop or catch up on schoolwork. But today, that feeling of unease was stronger than ever, gnawing at you with a persistence you couldn’t ignore.

You paced the hallways, glancing at the clock every few minutes. The quiet tower felt unbearably heavy, each minute stretching on endlessly. And then, finally, the faint roar of the Quinjet’s engines filled the air, signaling their return.

You hurried down to the landing bay, expecting to see Tony strutting out, cracking some half-baked joke about the mission, brushing off any bruises like they were nothing.

But as the jet doors opened, your heart plummeted.

The first figure to emerge was Steve, his face drawn with worry. And behind him, there was Tony—lying still on a stretcher, his armor dented, his face pale, and his shirt soaked through with blood.

“Dad!” you screamed, running over as the medics began wheeling him out. You reached for his hand, gripping it tightly as you matched the pace of the stretcher. “Dad, can you hear me?”

Hearing your voice, Tony’s eyes flickered open, and he gave you a faint, almost dazed smile, his lips twitching up as if this were all just another routine day. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, his usual grin so painfully out of place as blood seeped through his clothes. He looked like he was moments from passing out, yet here he was, trying to smile at you as if he weren’t literally dying.

Dr. Cho appeared at that moment, taking control as she and the med team rushed him toward the med bay. You clung to his hand, following until Dr. Cho gently but firmly urged you to let go so they could begin.

Your grip slipped reluctantly, your hand falling back to your side as they wheeled him away. You felt helpless, watching as they disappeared through the doors, the weight of everything settling heavily on your chest. Had he been injured because he’d been waiting for you to say goodbye? Was it your fault for not showing him you still cared?

You sank against the wall outside the med bay, waiting, your heart pounding as guilt and worry tangled together. You could barely breathe, the fear settling into your bones as the minutes stretched into hours.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho came out, a tired but gentle smile on her face.

“He’s stable,” she said, her voice reassuring. “The wound was deep, but we managed to stop the bleeding. He’ll need rest and shouldn’t move around much, but he’s going to be okay.”

Relief flooded through you, a weight lifting off your chest as you let out a shaky breath. You thanked her, your voice choked with emotion as you entered the med bay, your eyes immediately finding Tony’s sleeping form.

He looked peaceful, a rare stillness on his face as he rested. You pulled a chair close to the bed, sitting down and taking his hand in yours, your fingers brushing over the cuts and bruises along his knuckles. You stared at his hand, a lump forming in your throat as everything you’d been bottling up began to spill over.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible, as you traced the faint lines of scars on his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as the realization sank in, the guilt pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You hadn’t been there, hadn’t told him to be safe, and the thought that he’d gone into danger without knowing you cared made your heart ache.

From that moment, you didn’t leave his side, staying by his bed for days, watching over him, holding his hand, making sure he knew you were there. The other Avengers came by, offering words of comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave unless it was absolutely necessary.

Days passed, and one morning, as you sat by his bed, your head resting on your arms, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d fallen asleep, Tony’s hand still cradled in yours as you dozed off at his bedside.

When Tony stirred awake, blinking blearily at the room around him, he felt a warmth against his hand. Glancing over, he saw you, your head resting on the edge of the bed, your eyes closed, your grip on his hand firm even in sleep. A small, tired smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and gratitude.

Dr. Cho entered quietly, offering him a knowing smile as she did her routine check. “She’s barely left your side,” she whispered, nodding toward you. “You’re lucky to have her.”

Tony’s gaze softened, his smile lingering as he looked at you, memories of the past few weeks flashing through his mind. When Dr. Cho finished and quietly left, he shifted slightly, trying to move without disturbing you. But the small movement was enough to make you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you lifted your head, immediately reaching out to steady him.

“Hey, careful,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. “Don’t move too much. Dr. Cho said you need rest.”

Tony chuckled softly, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “Guess I’m not used to lying around doing nothing,” he replied, squeezing your hand gently

You frowned at him, though your expression softened with relief. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything? Water? Or maybe some food? Can’t get you alcohol, obviously…”

You rambled on, the questions pouring out in rapid succession, not giving him a chance to respond. “How are you feeling now? Do you want me to—”

“Whoa, slow down,” Tony interrupted with a soft laugh, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “I’m fine, kid. Really. You don’t have to worry.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally pressing down on you. Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, until finally, both of you spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony looked at you, his brow furrowing with confusion. “Why are you sorry?” he asked gently. “I’m the one who’s messed up, not you.”

You shook your head, your gaze falling as you fiddled with the edge of the bed sheet. “I should’ve said goodbye, like I always do. I was upset, and I thought… maybe if I didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But I do care, and I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way.”

Tony’s hand tightened around yours, his expression softening as he watched you. “Hey, listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “This is on me. I know I’ve let you down, more times than I can count. And I know I haven’t been the dad you deserve. But I’m here now, and I’m… I’m done screwing this up.”

He looked at you, his gaze steady, a rare sincerity in his eyes. “I know it’s going to take time to fix things, but I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m going to be there for you. I swear it.”

You blinked, tears welling up in your eyes as his words sank in, the honesty and determination in his voice breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself. You reached out, gripping his hand tightly, the weight of all the years of waiting and hoping finally easing.

“Just… show up, okay?” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek as you held his gaze. “That’s all I need.”

He nodded, a small, heartfelt smile on his face as he leaned back, squeezing your hand. “Then consider it done, kiddo.”