⚠️TW:suicidal thoughts, symptoms of an eating disorder⚠️

{this is very angsty I'll make a fluff oneshot when I'm in a better mood / comfort at the end tho ofc}

The wind blew through the compound, down the halls and across the courtyard.

The sound of isolation seeped into his bones.

It had been such a long time since he's spoken to someone.

Well, someone who was actually there.

'What's the point of living alone you know, like why should I be alive if there's no one here to notice I'm alive..." he paused, "sorry that's probably a lot to tell a figment of my imagination huh?'

The faded image of Natasha sat on the chair across from him. Watching him with that gaze she always wore.

He'd learnt the first time that she wasn't actually there. It's the isolation and the deprivation of human contact he supposes. That makes it feel so real.

When they left he never really processed it. Until it all hit him, his world crumbled and his mental state declined.

He got dizzier more often, maybe it was because he didn't eat anymore. His skin was paler than it ever had been. Even through those months locked in a cave with no access to sunlight.

He felt the presence of another one of his hallucinations. Turning his head slowly, in fear of vertigo, and watched as the reflection of Clint walked into the room and took a seat next to him.

He wished they could talk, Jarvis was gone, Friday...where was Friday? She never spoke anymore. Maybe it's because he stopped talking to her?

I wouldn't be surprised if she left me too...

He pushed himself up on shaky and weak legs. Not feeling his feet on the floor, or the air in his lungs.
Life was exhausting.

Unknown by the engineer, emails were filling his mailbox. Calls were filling up his phone where it lay dead on the floor near the chair.

That's same chair.

The only one he could sit in because it was the only chair where his family never sat. They said it was uncomfortable, and it was. But he didn't want to take their seats incase they came back for real.

A weak hand reached out to grab the whisky sitting on the dining table. Not having the energy to grab a glass he put the bottle to his mouth and drank some. But even the drink he resorted to made him sick. He spat it out, not caring where the alcohol landed. The glass slipped out of his shaking hand and he felt his knees buckle.

As his knees hit the floor he screamed, with a sudden burst of energy he hadn't experienced in forever he pushed himself to his feet and practically sprinted to the lab. He fell into the familiar metal suit and felt it close around him. Coughing lightly at the dust that covered the face plate.

The visor lit up, but dimly.

So Friday is still here...

He wordlessly started up the suit and shot out of the window, not caring about the glass shattering everywhere. He let Friday lead him, she knew where he wanted to go.

After what felt like days of flying he saw the helicarrier up ahead. He landed softly on the deck, behind a bunch of crates. No alarms had gone off, so they didn't know he was there yet.

He looked back over his shoulder, glancing down. The carrier was high up. High enough.

No.

He turned before his mind made the wrong decision. He walked with help of the suit, without it he was sure he'd fall. And probably never get up.

He heard laughter that he had been dying to hear down the hall. He followed it. And threw the door open.

The people he saw everyday paused and looked at him. But they were real this time.

They jumped up at the same time.

"you're not supposed to be here" came the low voice of the Director.

Tony didn't speak. He couldn't. His throat had closed up. He hadn't heard another voice in too long.

"Tony?" Bucky whispered, a frown on his face.

IM HERE

He wanted to speak but he found it impossible.

He opened the suit without speaking and the light that was dimmed by his visor nearly blacked out his vision.

He stumbled forwards breathing hard, he heard a few people gasp. He felt his body start to fall and heard his name being yelled.

Before he hit the ground he felt two pairs of hands grab him either side.

"-Tony can you hear me-"

"-I know he's not supposed to be here but I don't care-"

"-get Bruce-"

The voices faded in and out.

The world went dark.

He woke up surrounded by voices.
The smell of alcohol strong in his nose.
His t shirt slightly damp from the whisky he fell in.
He blinked his eyes open.
And stared up at the compound ceiling.
The faded images of his family staring down at him.
They were finally talking.
It was a dream.
Of course it was.
He couldn't go get help from the people he loved.
Because the people he loved had left for good.
There was no coming back when your heart stops beating.

—-reminder that I'll take requests and I'll try and do them as soon as I can-—