Only Moreso - Depression - 1/?
Title: Only Moreso - Depression
Rating: M
Genre: drama, angst
Fandom: Marvel's Earth-199999
Pairing: Steve/Tony (developing relationship)
Warnings: self loathing to the nth degree, a suicide attempt later, suicide reference in this chapter
Intriguing Snippet: They'll find out how how weak he really is someday and he can't bear the thought. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone who has, so foolishly, placed their faith in him.
And he's so very tired of pretending to be strong.
A/n: Depression is slightly different in that I can't tell all of the story from Tony's perspective, not if I want to get the whole thing across (because people who visit the bottom of the well regularly don't always realize exactly how bad/weird it is from the outside because they get wrapped up in their own heads in ways that are hard to explain unless you've been there). There will be glimpses from Steve's eyes, possibly among others. Also please please please heed the warnings!
Sometimes Tony thinks about college. In between remembering every stupid thing he did or said and cringing, Tony thinks about Isaac Fellman, who was in some ways a closer friend than Rhodey.
Isaac was the epitome of a tortured genius. He was high-strung, all crazy hair and neuroses and numbers, and when he wasn't staring vacant-eyed at walls or the floor, Tony quite liked him. He was one of the few people who could keep up with Tony and who never treated him like an obnoxious kid brother (like even Rhodey did sometimes). Isaac and Tony used to meet up and be math nerds together, bouncing theories and ideas between them. Isaac was also often happy to talk engineering, too, though his understanding tended to be more theoretical in nature. They would pick through problems they were having with their respective projects a lot of the time, and the results were impressive.
Tony was the arrogant little rich boy and Isaac was the weirdo reject from the math department who hung out with a kid, and they were often seen huddled together, passing papers back and forth while Isaac hissed (as was his wont when he got excited) -- so of course they developed a reputation. Sometimes it got to Tony (who was, after all, a teenager trying to prove himself to adults), but he was doggedly loyal to his friend because Isaac was one of the kindest people Tony knew, and his problems weren't his fault.
Conversation often strayed to non-academic topics and Tony learned quick which ones made Isaac go wild-eyed. These included anything remotely related psychology (to the point that Tony refrained from mentioning his psychology-major girlfriend junior year), friends who weren't Tony (Tony had always gotten the idea that he didn't have any other friends), and his family. Tony had once idly asked him what his parents did for a living, only to see Isaac's jaw clamp shut and for him to look like he wanted to bolt. Tony never mentioned it again.
Their senior year was particularly stressful for Isaac, as it coincided with something else Tony was never able to discover, and the week before spring finals Isaac had a breakdown in the very public math building's lobby. He had to be institutionalized for a while, and the only way Tony found out was because someone asked him, jeeringly, if he had heard what had happened to his friend. He hadn't and the guy had grinned maliciously as he told Tony about the way Isaac had very quietly curled up in a corner and cried like a child until he was taken away.
Tony tried to visit him at the hospital, but Isaac had refused to see him and Tony never saw his friend again. Through the MIT alumni gossip mill, he heard a few years later that Isaac hung himself. He didn't leave a note.
The other thing that thinking about Isaac reminds him off is the way that Rhodey acted around Isaac -- he'd never said anything outright, but his tone stank of patronization and he seemed to think Issac could barely wipe his own ass. It's one of the many reasons Tony's always kept his problems to himself, redirecting conversations and deflecting by making as things awkward as possible for Rhodey until he drops it on the occasion it came up.
It's not a nice thing to do to Rhodey, but Tony can't bring himself to mind much. What Rhodey would say and do if he found out is not very nice, either.
*
Steve frowns. Something has been up with Tony lately and to find him laid out flat on the cot in his lab like this is just more proof.
"Tony?" he calls, stopping a few feet away from the cot, "Hey, Tony." Nothing. Tony doesn't even seem to hear him. "Tony, I brought coffee," he tries again, fruitlessly. "JARVIS," Steve says with a frown. "How long has he been like this?"
"Two hours," JARVIS says, concern evident in the AI's voice. "He has not moved or spoken since lying down."
Ordinarily, it's hard to get Tony to sit down for more than twenty minutes or to shut up for five. "Is there something going on he hasn't been telling me -- us-- about?" Steve didn't think so, but Tony is cagey at the best of times.
"Not really," JARVIS says. "He gets like this sometimes. Miss Potts and I have found that touch is the best way to get his attention, by the way."
Approaching Tony's cot, Steve studies his friend for a moment. Tony looks miserable and unhappy at a level Steve isn't sure he can relate to (Steve's had boughts of the blues on and off since his mother died but the only time it was maybe this deep was after Bucky -- Steve stops the thought in its tracks) and he's worried. Steve sits gingerly on the edge of the cot and leans over to gently runs a hand through Tony's hair. "Hey," he says softly as Tony jerks into awareness. "Are you all right?"
Tony blinks up at him, badly hiding his panic before flashing Steve what would usually be a charming smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just," he laughs as he stops the progress of Steve's hand through his hair, "tired."
That's a blatant lie but Steve lets it slide. "Tony Stark admitting he's tired? Never thought I'd see the day," he says lightly.
"Ssshhh." Tony gives him a grin and shifts their hands to twine their fingers together. "I'll deny it if you mention it to anyone else." Steve's heart warms when Tony squeezes his hand affectionately as he sits. "So what's up?"
"Wanted to see if you'd eaten recently. If you haven't, we should go out for dinner," Steve says.
"I'm good," Tony says and Steve chooses not to ask JARVIS when the last time Tony ate was. "If you're hungry, I can either whip something up or bully Bruce into cooking."
"Is this your way of telling me you want to stay home?" Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Tony says, seeming to admit it as exhaustion creeps into his voice briefly. "I mean, if that's ok? We can still go out if you want."
The earnest way he's looking at Steve says he will if that's what Steve wants, even though he doesn't want to. Steve's not sure if he knows this because he's gotten better at reading Tony or if it's because Tony is having trouble hiding his feelings. Steve keeps that thought to himself. "No, that's ok," he says. "We can stay in."
"Good, thanks," Tony says with a smile.
Steve suspects Tony doesn't realize how relieved that smile looks. "I hear good things about your spaghetti."
Tony does in fact make amazing spaghetti and Steve digs in with gusto after persuading him to eat a little, too. After dinner (Tony picked at his plate the entire time and maybe ate three bites before throwing the rest of it away -- he's haphazard in his eating patterns at the best of times but he usually eats more than this), they retreat to the closest living room and watch TV for a while, and Tony eventually ends up asleep with his head on Steve's lap. Steve strokes his hair idly and worries.
*
Tony turns the water scalding hot and slides down the wall in his shower, curled in the corner to rest his head against his crossed arms. A dull pain reminiscent of heartsick, but not so sharp or raw, has taken up residence in his chest and it aches in a way he doesn't have the words to describe. He's so weak. He curls in tighter, hugs his knees closer, and presses his face in the space between them and his chest. He ignores the way the rim of the reactor digs into his chin. God, he hates himself. Tony chuckles bitterly at his own weakness and the way so many people expect him to be strong. He isn't. The ache turns sharp and jabs him in tender places. They'll find out how how weak he really is someday and he can't bear the thought. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone who has, so foolishly, placed their faith in him.
And he's so very tired of pretending to be strong. Tony pulls his head out of the little cave he's made with his body and turns to drop his head against his knees. He doesn't know how long he can keep it up before he stumbles and everyone sees through the act to the weak, ugly little person he is on the inside. Every sin, every petty evil, every little horror that Tony commits on a daily basis to get by, each and every lie he's ever told, all in broad daylight for public viewing.
Everyone he knows will hate him. Tony needs other people to function. He needs the rock that is Pepper and the steady hands of Steve, and when they hate him he won't have those necessities anymore. His heart clenches painfully and he wonders, what will he do then? Tony foresees a future where he is alone, where he is unmoored, where his only guide is a bottle and his only goal is to find the bottom as fast as he can.
He wishes he weren't so weak.
Next >>
Rating: M
Genre: drama, angst
Fandom: Marvel's Earth-199999
Pairing: Steve/Tony (developing relationship)
Warnings: self loathing to the nth degree, a suicide attempt later, suicide reference in this chapter
Intriguing Snippet: They'll find out how how weak he really is someday and he can't bear the thought. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone who has, so foolishly, placed their faith in him.
And he's so very tired of pretending to be strong.
A/n: Depression is slightly different in that I can't tell all of the story from Tony's perspective, not if I want to get the whole thing across (because people who visit the bottom of the well regularly don't always realize exactly how bad/weird it is from the outside because they get wrapped up in their own heads in ways that are hard to explain unless you've been there). There will be glimpses from Steve's eyes, possibly among others. Also please please please heed the warnings!
Sometimes Tony thinks about college. In between remembering every stupid thing he did or said and cringing, Tony thinks about Isaac Fellman, who was in some ways a closer friend than Rhodey.
Isaac was the epitome of a tortured genius. He was high-strung, all crazy hair and neuroses and numbers, and when he wasn't staring vacant-eyed at walls or the floor, Tony quite liked him. He was one of the few people who could keep up with Tony and who never treated him like an obnoxious kid brother (like even Rhodey did sometimes). Isaac and Tony used to meet up and be math nerds together, bouncing theories and ideas between them. Isaac was also often happy to talk engineering, too, though his understanding tended to be more theoretical in nature. They would pick through problems they were having with their respective projects a lot of the time, and the results were impressive.
Tony was the arrogant little rich boy and Isaac was the weirdo reject from the math department who hung out with a kid, and they were often seen huddled together, passing papers back and forth while Isaac hissed (as was his wont when he got excited) -- so of course they developed a reputation. Sometimes it got to Tony (who was, after all, a teenager trying to prove himself to adults), but he was doggedly loyal to his friend because Isaac was one of the kindest people Tony knew, and his problems weren't his fault.
Conversation often strayed to non-academic topics and Tony learned quick which ones made Isaac go wild-eyed. These included anything remotely related psychology (to the point that Tony refrained from mentioning his psychology-major girlfriend junior year), friends who weren't Tony (Tony had always gotten the idea that he didn't have any other friends), and his family. Tony had once idly asked him what his parents did for a living, only to see Isaac's jaw clamp shut and for him to look like he wanted to bolt. Tony never mentioned it again.
Their senior year was particularly stressful for Isaac, as it coincided with something else Tony was never able to discover, and the week before spring finals Isaac had a breakdown in the very public math building's lobby. He had to be institutionalized for a while, and the only way Tony found out was because someone asked him, jeeringly, if he had heard what had happened to his friend. He hadn't and the guy had grinned maliciously as he told Tony about the way Isaac had very quietly curled up in a corner and cried like a child until he was taken away.
Tony tried to visit him at the hospital, but Isaac had refused to see him and Tony never saw his friend again. Through the MIT alumni gossip mill, he heard a few years later that Isaac hung himself. He didn't leave a note.
The other thing that thinking about Isaac reminds him off is the way that Rhodey acted around Isaac -- he'd never said anything outright, but his tone stank of patronization and he seemed to think Issac could barely wipe his own ass. It's one of the many reasons Tony's always kept his problems to himself, redirecting conversations and deflecting by making as things awkward as possible for Rhodey until he drops it on the occasion it came up.
It's not a nice thing to do to Rhodey, but Tony can't bring himself to mind much. What Rhodey would say and do if he found out is not very nice, either.
*
Steve frowns. Something has been up with Tony lately and to find him laid out flat on the cot in his lab like this is just more proof.
"Tony?" he calls, stopping a few feet away from the cot, "Hey, Tony." Nothing. Tony doesn't even seem to hear him. "Tony, I brought coffee," he tries again, fruitlessly. "JARVIS," Steve says with a frown. "How long has he been like this?"
"Two hours," JARVIS says, concern evident in the AI's voice. "He has not moved or spoken since lying down."
Ordinarily, it's hard to get Tony to sit down for more than twenty minutes or to shut up for five. "Is there something going on he hasn't been telling me -- us-- about?" Steve didn't think so, but Tony is cagey at the best of times.
"Not really," JARVIS says. "He gets like this sometimes. Miss Potts and I have found that touch is the best way to get his attention, by the way."
Approaching Tony's cot, Steve studies his friend for a moment. Tony looks miserable and unhappy at a level Steve isn't sure he can relate to (Steve's had boughts of the blues on and off since his mother died but the only time it was maybe this deep was after Bucky -- Steve stops the thought in its tracks) and he's worried. Steve sits gingerly on the edge of the cot and leans over to gently runs a hand through Tony's hair. "Hey," he says softly as Tony jerks into awareness. "Are you all right?"
Tony blinks up at him, badly hiding his panic before flashing Steve what would usually be a charming smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just," he laughs as he stops the progress of Steve's hand through his hair, "tired."
That's a blatant lie but Steve lets it slide. "Tony Stark admitting he's tired? Never thought I'd see the day," he says lightly.
"Ssshhh." Tony gives him a grin and shifts their hands to twine their fingers together. "I'll deny it if you mention it to anyone else." Steve's heart warms when Tony squeezes his hand affectionately as he sits. "So what's up?"
"Wanted to see if you'd eaten recently. If you haven't, we should go out for dinner," Steve says.
"I'm good," Tony says and Steve chooses not to ask JARVIS when the last time Tony ate was. "If you're hungry, I can either whip something up or bully Bruce into cooking."
"Is this your way of telling me you want to stay home?" Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Tony says, seeming to admit it as exhaustion creeps into his voice briefly. "I mean, if that's ok? We can still go out if you want."
The earnest way he's looking at Steve says he will if that's what Steve wants, even though he doesn't want to. Steve's not sure if he knows this because he's gotten better at reading Tony or if it's because Tony is having trouble hiding his feelings. Steve keeps that thought to himself. "No, that's ok," he says. "We can stay in."
"Good, thanks," Tony says with a smile.
Steve suspects Tony doesn't realize how relieved that smile looks. "I hear good things about your spaghetti."
Tony does in fact make amazing spaghetti and Steve digs in with gusto after persuading him to eat a little, too. After dinner (Tony picked at his plate the entire time and maybe ate three bites before throwing the rest of it away -- he's haphazard in his eating patterns at the best of times but he usually eats more than this), they retreat to the closest living room and watch TV for a while, and Tony eventually ends up asleep with his head on Steve's lap. Steve strokes his hair idly and worries.
*
Tony turns the water scalding hot and slides down the wall in his shower, curled in the corner to rest his head against his crossed arms. A dull pain reminiscent of heartsick, but not so sharp or raw, has taken up residence in his chest and it aches in a way he doesn't have the words to describe. He's so weak. He curls in tighter, hugs his knees closer, and presses his face in the space between them and his chest. He ignores the way the rim of the reactor digs into his chin. God, he hates himself. Tony chuckles bitterly at his own weakness and the way so many people expect him to be strong. He isn't. The ache turns sharp and jabs him in tender places. They'll find out how how weak he really is someday and he can't bear the thought. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone who has, so foolishly, placed their faith in him.
And he's so very tired of pretending to be strong. Tony pulls his head out of the little cave he's made with his body and turns to drop his head against his knees. He doesn't know how long he can keep it up before he stumbles and everyone sees through the act to the weak, ugly little person he is on the inside. Every sin, every petty evil, every little horror that Tony commits on a daily basis to get by, each and every lie he's ever told, all in broad daylight for public viewing.
Everyone he knows will hate him. Tony needs other people to function. He needs the rock that is Pepper and the steady hands of Steve, and when they hate him he won't have those necessities anymore. His heart clenches painfully and he wonders, what will he do then? Tony foresees a future where he is alone, where he is unmoored, where his only guide is a bottle and his only goal is to find the bottom as fast as he can.
He wishes he weren't so weak.
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