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Tony Stark is angry. At what or with whom, he doesn’t know. He does know that he is ready to punch a wall. That someone at the charity event notices, doesn’t help. He can barely manage a polite smile, driving the nose of his shoe into the perfectly polished wooden floor and gripping at the glass in his hand hard enough that he fears it might burst.
‘Anthony!’
Justin Hammer. Tony is seeing red now. Of course it’s Justin fucking Hammer who notices he isn’t having the best of times. If the guy doesn’t leave soon, he will hit him in the face, preferably with the glass that’s trembling in his hand like its afraid it might combust to pieces any second now.
‘Justin, my man!’ he greats with faux enthusiasm that barely fits through his gritted teeth. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here. How have you-’
Glass shatters. It takes him embarrassingly long to realize it’s his glass that has shattered, and that he is holding the remains in his now bloody hand.
‘Anthony!’ Hammer voices his concern, visibly shaken. He rushes forward, thrusting his own drink in the surprised hands of another guest. The overweight businessman quickly turns away, huffing in an aggravated manner that Tony can somehow make out over the ringing in his ears. He slowly lowers his gaze to his hand, which Hammer takes without asking. The man turns his hand over, carefully uncurling Tony’s fingers from around the glass shards.
‘You must have hit an artery or something,’ Hammer says anxiously. The blood is pooling in Tony’s palm, slowly dripping to the ground from between his fingers. He can hear it hit the floor once the ringing has subsided.
He doesn’t say anything. It’s like the words have fled his mind. He allows Hammer to lead him away from the mess he’s made, the glass shards momentarily crunching underneath their feet until they are swerving through the business crowd. People hastily make way, probably more afraid the blood may stain their expensive clothes than that they are concerned for Tony’s wellbeing.
He doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to it over the years.
Once they have left the airy ballroom and the grandiose doors fall shut behind him, the panic sets in. He swallows it down silently, refraining from abruptly pulling his arm from Hammer’s grip. Their footsteps sound muted on the red carpet that lines the broad hallways. It’s just the two of them now. All the staff and guests are busy keeping the charity event in full swing. The further they get away from the festivities, the harder it gets to draw in a proper breath.
Hammer pushes open another heavy door. He pulls Tony in behind him. They enter a large bathroom facility with porcelain sinks and grand chandeliers. Hammer pulls him over to a golden faucet and pushes his hand under the running water. Tony watches the blood multiply and disappear down the drain in large quantities.
Hammer bends forward a little, running his thumbs across Tony’s cut flesh. He pries at the glass shards with bitter precision.
‘What-’ Tony swallows. He has to start over, thinking about his words carefully before he tries again: ‘What are you doing?’
Hammer sends him a disbelieving look, raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner. ‘Helping you of course.’ He quickly focuses his attention back on Tony’s hand – that is still bleeding and has him slightly worried now.
‘I can see that,’ Tony notes drily. ‘What I’m trying to say is why are you helping me?’ He doesn’t mean to put emphasis on the last word, but it just happens.
Hammer pulls out a larger piece of glass, putting it down on the edge of the sink carefully. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he asks in turn, like the answer is obvious and Tony is just playing with him.
He is officially starting to panic. ‘Alright,’ he says slowly, still not pulling his hand away, mostly because Hammer is holding his wrist in a frightening dead grip. ‘But we’re rivals.’
Hammer’s hands stop moving momentarily. ‘Oh,’ he breathes, like he only now realizes. ‘Should I stop, then? Leave you be?’
Tony is confused. Yes, of course, he tries to say, but again, words fail him. He studies his bleeding hand. Hammer’s fingers are still strongly curled around his wrist.
‘Listen, Justin.’ He tries to meet Hammer’s eyes, but the man is deliberately looking away from him. ‘I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again.’ He softly tucks at his hand. Relief floods through him when Hammer willingly lets him go. ‘I don’t like you in that way anymore.’ I don’t like you in any way, he wants to add. ‘You do know that, right?’ It amazes him that he is still trying to let Hammer down slowly, even after having done so countless of times before.
Hammer nods. It’s barely there, but Tony has looked at the man enough times to recognize every one of his almost invisible gestures. ‘I just thought-’ Hammer whispers. ‘I recognized you were angry, and I just thought I could – I could help. Calm you down, maybe?’
Tony doesn’t need calming down when he is angry. Mostly, he needs to get away from here. ‘I don’t want your help.’ He realizes he is starting to sound angry. They have been in enough fights for the other to realize it too. Hammer quickly steps away from the sink. Tony turns off the water. He takes out his pocket square, wrapping it around his hand with practiced ease. He makes a fist to hold the fabric in place. ‘Why do you still think you have a chance?’ he asks. He refuses to raise his voice again, even if it proves to be quite the task. ‘We’re done, Justin. We’ve been done for ages!’ Despite his best efforts, he ends up shouting.
‘That was your decision!’ Hammer answers loudly. He is starting to get angry too, tensing up to make himself appear bigger.
Tony snorts, shaking his head disapprovingly. This guy. He points at him with an angry finger. ‘Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone?’
‘I thought you could use some help!’ Hammer shouts, sounding desperate. ‘I’m sorry I tried to help. It doesn’t look like anyone else is doing it these days!’
It hurts. It hurts because it’s true. He’s been mostly on his own lately, bearing sole responsibility for most of the things happening in his life. It’s all falling apart around him and no one’s batting an eye. It’s like they don’t even notice him crumbling under the weight of everyone’s expectations.
‘I don’t need anyone’s help, especially not yours!’ His hand is dripping blood on the floor again. It’s a worrying sight. Shouldn’t it have stopped by now?
‘You’re bleeding again,’ Hammer says.
‘I know!’ He tightens the fabric around his palm, tugging at it aggressively until it’s cutting into his skin. He turns away slightly. ‘Just leave me alone!’
For a moment, Hammer looks like he is about to hit him. He braces himself, unable to refrain from flinching violently.
And hadn’t that been their downfall? Instead of building each other up, they had torn the other down until there had been little left to tear apart. Hammer had turned out to be a carbon copy of his father, and for the longest time Tony had mistaken his outrages for love. He is done with that now. He’s learned to see through Hammer’s lies and his twisted versions of reality. He is done being manipulated by the people around him, getting passed around as some dumb toy that will simply bend over when asked.
Hammer must notice too, because he quickly takes a step back. ‘Anthony?’ he asks, and the concerned fear confuses him even more. ‘Are you-’
Tony hopes with all his being that the man won’t ask, that he won’t say the words that he’s dreaded his whole life, words that always appear within any relationship he tries to build, whether it’s to scare him or to ask him if he’s alright. He cannot keep them from being spoken to him.
‘Are you afraid of me?’
Hammer doesn’t voice the question like his father had, or the many girlfriends and boyfriends he’s had after. It doesn’t sound like a satisfactory promise of more pain this time. They sound sincere, and slightly frightening because of the self-hatred that hides between them.
He doesn’t voice his answer, instead allowing his eyes to dart away. He’s forced himself countless of times to remain eye contact regardless of the panic that would be building in his chest. He doesn’t this time. He doesn’t feel the need to.
Hammer storms right past him, their shoulders brushing against each other one last time before the door slams shut. The chandeliers swing back and forth slightly. Tony stumbles over to the bare wall next to the door. He slides down on the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees. He stares into the empty bathroom.
The panic engulfs him slowly, creeping out of his chest and spreading through the rest of his body. He rubs his trembling hands together, making the cuts in his hand sing with pain.
It grounds him.
He closes his eyes and desperately tries to forget. Then, maybe, it will be like it never even happened in the first place.