@ironicarus / sadness is like a festering wound that only spreads deeper and further with time. it eats away at you as a person, and leaves behind a shell of bones in your place. and the most tragic part is, it’s not often anyone notices the fact that a skeleton has taken your place. it appears so gradually, that it’s nearly impossible. if tony’s hands shake more than usual now, he can blame it on one too many coffees, if his gaze has dulled, assuring that he’s just in need of a good nights sleep, should do the trick. and for the most part, his lies are believed by everyone. everyone except for his closest loved ones. everyone except for connor. he doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to explain why he feels as though he’s on the verge of exploding, yet also at the same time, he feels as though he’s sinking into a black hole. instead he’s selfishly clinging to a man, who’s issues almost meet, if not exceed tony’s own, like he’s a lifeline. he knows it’s not healthy, but at this point, it’s hard to care. he doesn’t want to talk, so instead he seals their tormenting and expecting silence with a kiss, hungry and desperate, he pours his emotions into his actions, all while crushing the nagging thought in his mind that this isn’t the way to handle his problems.
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sleepless nights, empty bottles, dark skies. all a familiar pattern in his life when things get a little too hot to handle, a little too much for his soul. he’s a man burdened with sorrow and grief, masked in solitude and stoicism. his shield-assigned therapist tells him there’s much he needs to work through, as if he doesn’t know his own brain. he knows himself well enough. knows how terribly far he falls from perfection, how he’s more of a stain than a pleasure. yet tony often convinces him otherwise, trusting him with his heart, and connor treads carefully. he’s no saint, no glorious lover. he tries with intent, tries with action. words often fall short, dead on his tongue before he even finds a way to phrase the very feelings he’s continually shoved into the hole in his heart.
if he’s the moon, then tony’s the sun. they are often on different paths, though they meet together every so often. those moments together are what make it worth it, but they are by far, not always joyous. he’s come to check on tony, because it’s been a while, and he’s not one to pull him away from his work if he’s adamant about it. boundaries are something he’s learned to work with, especially considering he’s got many of his own.
tonight the façade has cracked. tonight, they eclipse each other. tony, hungry and desperate, pulled against his body, and he understands. he returns in fervour, a hand sliding under fabric against warm skin, fingers gripping lightly. he grounds himself then, recognizes that this isn’t healthy, not for tony. connor is no saint, but he refuses to pull a man deeper when he’s already drowning. it’s difficult to tell him no, to pull his lips away and sway back onto his feet. his free hand shifts to cup tony’s cheek.
“hey,” he rasps out, thumb stroking over the curve of tony’s cheek. “not like this, babe. not tonight, tony.” now gently over the bags under his eyes. he exhales a soft breath. “i know— i know you don’t wanna talk. and that’s fine, ‘m okay with that. but we aren’t doin’ this right now, alright? you need a shower, or a bath. some food and water, then bed. don’t gotta sleep if y’don’t want to or feel like y’can’t. just… lay there. i can be there, too. put on some music, or a show or somethin’.” i love you. brows furrow and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. he threads a hand through tony’s disheveled hair, hopes he understands that connor is trying to pull him up for air. “i love you.”