Esté was exhausted but that hadn't stopped her from spending two hours doing her hair and makeup that evening before slipping into a red cocktail dress and pulling on a pair of signature padlock heels, her outfit turning up in a lavish box outside her hotel room earlier that day.

After a last minute call booking some extra work in New York right before Christmas, Estélla's plans of travelling back to Milan after the Vogue party were swiftly cancelled, her trip extending a little longer than she would've liked after an already incredibly long year.

Walking runways and shooting edits felt like a dream to Estélla. She loved travelling all around the world and collaborating with her favourite designers, feeling honoured to be chosen to walk for their shows and be the face of a new collection. Even though she was one of the most famous women in the world at the time, Esté was incredibly humble about her career, her feet always remaining firmly on the ground and a level head she'd been raised with not wavering once.

Polite and kind, Estélla Goldwyn's reputation as a sweetheart of the modelling industry was perhaps what carried her a little further than everybody else. People admired not only her looks and her walk, but her generosity and respect, too. She set up charities and organised fundraisers, spoke out about world politics and used her platform to empower those who needed it, never shying away from the chance to make a difference since she was lucky enough to have a voice people would listen to.

And listen they did. The world adored Estélla Goldwyn, her last name quickly becoming associated with primarily herself rather than the Goldwyn investment banking empire her father and uncles had dedicated their lives to building.

Estélla worked hard at keeping her private life out of the public eye, though equally let her true personality shine in late night television interviews and talk shows, making it almost impossible for anybody to say or even think a bad word about her.

Estélla worked hard and never took anything for granted, always taking a moment to pause and step back from a situation to appreciate what she had, and that particular evening was one of those times.

Stepping out of a Rolls Royce and clinging daintily to the arm of Tom Ford as his date for the evening was something even Estélla never dreamed she'd do. She'd worked with Tom during his stint with Gucci a handful of years prior, though the two hadn't reconnected until earlier that year when he asked her to be the face of his new fragrance launching in the Spring.

Esté had reluctantly declined the invitation to his Christmas party in New York that year since she thought she'd have been back in Italy by then, though after plans changed and she asked if there was still room on the guest list for her, Tom had been so damned with happiness that he insisted on taking her himself.

They avoided the cameras and headed straight inside, though the flurry of excitement and adrenaline from the shouts of her name and overbearing flashes made Esté's heart beat a little bit faster, trying to hide her smile behind a red hot poker face.

"Three hours late to my own party," Tom said as they were escorted towards a row of elevators inside One Vanderbilt, "Fashionable enough?"

Esté grinned up at him, "Without a doubt."

The sound of an elevator opening caught their attention and expecting it to be empty, the pair took a step forward together, only to be startled when three people stumbled through the doors out into the hallway.

"Mr Stark, glad to see you're enjoying my party," Tom said with a laugh before turning to address the two women, "Good evening, girls."

Tony's tie was loose and he had a trail of pink lipstick left on the inside collar of his white shirt, the two girls both looking rather flustered with messy hair and faded makeup, any embarrassment flushed out by the amount of alcohol they'd consumed that left their eyes hazy and legs weak.

Esté felt herself tense up when she bumped into her friend for the second time in eight days. She hadn't heard from him since the night of the Vogue party and in all truth, hadn't spared him much of a second thought. Although that night Esté had been tempted by the idea of reconnecting with a friend that had surely influenced the woman she'd become, there had been a change in the air surrounding him that made Tony seem like more of a stranger than she ever thought he'd be.

Estélla knew that money and fame often changed people and she prided herself on the way she hadn't succumbed to the same fate many people did, but reading gossip columns and news stories about how her childhood friend had gone from a sweet boy with a selfless soul to a womaniser that appeared to own nothing close to a heart left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

"Hey, great party," Tony immediately snapped into a professional tone, straightening his tie before offering his hand out for Tom to shake, "Excellent choice on the champagne this year, I must say."

The men shook hands though Tony couldn't help but look at Estélla. His cheeks were red with unease and he was convinced he could feel the judgement pouring from her clenched jaw and starry eyes, wild with awkwardness about what she'd just stumbled across for a second time.

"Esté, I thought you'd be back in Milan?" He said, clearing his throat and wiping lipstick from his face with the back of his hand.

"So did I, but I got booked to walk for Ralph Lauren's Christmas Eve show last minute so I guess I'm staying for at least another week."

Tony very rarely spared a thought to wonder what other people thought about him. Quite frankly, he couldn't have cared less about his reputation since it seemed like he could live his life whatever way he wanted and still be adored. He had women throwing themselves at him and men begging him for jobs, entire cities and countries praising him for his work and practically the world looking up to him as a hero, though he suddenly felt overcome with shame as he met the gaze of his old friend.

She looked like an angel in her red dress and Tom Ford heels, a black clutch bag and fur coat would've made her seem incredibly intimidating if her hair hadn't been blown out into Hollywood curls and her smile hadn't been so bright, a true pureness radiating from her.

Tony knew he looked good, he always did, and that night in his custom Tom Ford suit he looked no different. Handsome was his character as well as his face and while he'd felt like the King of the world leaving the party with two girls on his arm yet again, the feeling of power quickly disappeared once he fell out of the elevator into Esté and Tom's path.

He was humbled at the sight of someone he knew doing better than him. The achievements of strangers never crossed his mind or made him lose sleep, his only competition being his past self since it seemed like nobody else in the world could ever really come close. He knew actors, musicians and fashion designers and shook their hands at parties, but never would he have considered any of them friends, nor did he particularly care to, the world still loved him regardless.

But perhaps it was the fact that he didn't consider the socialites and rockstars as friends that dulled down their shine, familiarity in Esté being the reason he suddenly became aware of how low he had been acting compared to how high above him she seemed to be.

Tony hadn't stopped thinking about Estélla since the Vogue party. Memories of their childhood plagued him incessantly afterwards and while all of them were some of the brightest, happiest times of his life, the space between them hurt more after realising just how much time had passed.

He'd never really had a friend like Estélla again, their trusting playfulness and love for all things wild being near enough impossible to find in anybody else. Tony had friends, sure, but as he looked into Esté's blue eyes again, he was reminded just how deep their relationship had been, and how for him, it was the deepest connection he'd ever shared with another person.

They studied together and snook out of their bedrooms at night to hang out, they toasted marshmallows over a fire on the beach and built forts in the trees of their homes, stargazed and played soccer, watched the same movies over and over again and laughed just as much each time. They trusted each other in a way that they didn't with anybody else, sharing secrets that made for an unbreakable friendship that would've stood the test of time had Esté not moved halfway across the world.

They were different people now, so it seemed, and while Esté still saw the same hazel eyes of the boy that taught her how to do algebra properly, she saw somebody different looking back at her.

Tom excused himself politely to greet another guest following behind them, leaving Esté, Tony and the two girls alone. Tony wasted no time in stepping away from the women, tilting his head with apologetically wide eyes and a downturned smile.

"I don't want you to think that, that is what I'm like, Esté. I know I might seem a little...different, but I'm still me. I'm still Tony, you know?" His voice was hushed and low as he leaned close to her, "I need you to understand that, all the stuff you read about me, it's not a true reflection. You were my best friend, I'd love to have that back."

Esté smiled politely, swallowing when she looked past Tony's shoulder and watched the two girls cling to each other for support, giggling to themselves and whispering things in each other's ears. She had no judgement towards them and didn't blame them for wanting to hook up with a billionaire superhero, but knowing the history of how Tony had treated women didn't sit right with her. She knew herself that not everything the press reported was true, but Esté was also well aware that more often than not, there was no smoke without a fire.

"Estélla, darling, are you ready?" Tom said, holding out his arm for her and giving Tony a genuine smile, "Give me a call next week Mr Stark, I'll have your suit sent over for the Expo."

Tony thanked Tom and it wasn't long before the two girls landed their hands on him again, one pressing a long kiss to his cheek that made his skin red, though not enough to capture his attention away from Estélla.

"It's been lovely to see you, Tony, honestly. Do let me know the next time you're in Milan."

Tony felt his heart break and blood run cold. He couldn't remember a time he'd ever been turned down by anybody for anything, and as much as he'd imagined it might hurt, the cut was so much deeper coming from his friend.

He could see how unsettled Esté was in her face, a muted smile he knew was out of courtesy rather than her heart and eyes that were tinted with pity, something Tony had never seen before. It bothered him that Estélla thought differently of him, that she could think badly of him when she had been the only person to ever truly know the goodness that lived in his bones.

"How about dinner next week, before your show?" He said, his voice laced with desperation that would've made him embarrassed had he not already lost all sense of anything else.

Estélla looked at her friend, wrapping her arm through Tom's and placing a perfectly manicured hand on top of his own, presenting a fresh smile and dry eyes free of any emotion she'd just felt.

"I'm sorry, Tony. But like I said, give me a call if you find yourself in Milan."

The moment almost felt like deja vu as Tony watched Esté walk away from him again. The same inferior feeling made him choke as she disappeared out of sight on the arm of Tom Ford, knowing she'd spend the rest of her evening being praised and adored by men who didn't have a reputation like he did, and while that had always been something Tony prided himself on, in that moment, he despised it.