[You walk in after my muse has just committed suicide. Send me your muse's reaction.]
Something I wrote for one of my RP partners on my Bruce Banner account. (returning the favor for the submission she sent me) I cried a lot, just so you know.
The sign of broken glass on the floor was what first caused Bruce to enter Tony's workshop, and really, he should have known right then and there that something wasn't right. He typed in the key code and cautiously pushed through the clear, glass doors, stepping inside and following the trail of disarray, glass shards, knocked over equipment, a large puddle of scotch.
It led him to the back corner of the workshop, behind an incomplete chest piece modification for one of Tony's suits, a modification that would never see completion.
The sight of Tony's feet sprawled out before him, peaking out from around the corner, caused Bruce's heart to hammer against his ribs in panic, which only transformed into soul-crushing anguish as his eyes trailed further upwards, freezing at the empty hole in Tony's chest.
His world stopped, and he fell to his knees with a heavy thud beside the shell of man he loved, eyes already stinging with burning tears. A sob rose to his throat, and he reached out, two fingers finding their way to Tony's wrist in search of a pulse that just wasn't there, that had left some time ago.
Another wave of despair and anguish rolled over him, sending his mind into a static-filled haze. He couldn't process Tony's bloodied finger nails, the arc reactor that rested in one of the engineer's skilled hands, the smudges of dulled crimson lining the metal ring in Tony's chest, the smell of alcohol that emanated from what seemed like every pore, the glazed look in Tony's normally warm, brown orbs.
His mind couldn't comprehend it, couldn't piece together the pieces that were staring him straight in the face.
He just couldn't face a world without Tony Stark.
Bruce sat like that, resting on his knees in silence, for several moments, mind reeling over everything, emotions trying to catch up to him as reality finally filtered through the dense fog that clouded his mind and gave him a cold slap to the face.
Tony was gone, and he was alone again.
Breathing hitched, he curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as he worked to understand where everything had gone so horribly wrong.
They had been doing so well. Bruce had finally begun to connect with people again. He had become comfortable here, with Tony by his side. Sure, Tony had gotten a little depressed, what with so much self-hatred pent-up inside him, but Bruce had been helping him through that, had been right there, right by his side. Tony had helped him through his low days, and Bruce had been returning the favor.
He'd been there through the nightmares, through the sleepless nights, through the drinking binges, through everything. But it just hadn't been enough. He hadn't been enough.
His hands fisted at his sides, another broken sob racking his frame as he stared down at Tony's chest, cold and exposed and empty. He turned away, sight blurred with tears
He couldn't lose someone like this again. Not after Betty. Not again.
Why couldn't he hold onto one nice thing in his life? Was he not allowed to be happy? Could he not have one godforsaken thing in his life that he cared about without it being ripped away from him?!
Anger and despair welled inside him, burning him to his core, hot and stinging like flames licking over flesh, until he couldn't hold it back and it all burst outward. Muscles shifted and tore and swelled, a sickening green bled into tanned, even skin, and acid coursed through veins, bringing forth a beast of pure emotion. He howled with grief, animalistic and primal, filled with pain and anger and frustration and mourning, so deafening that the glass walls around him shattered. Yet it was the sound of his big, green heart breaking that seemed to pierce through the weighed air the most.
He cupped Tony's limp form in his massive palms, shaking him surprising gentleness, as if to try and wake him from his eternal slumber. The arc reactor fell from Tony's grasp, hitting the concrete with a sharp clink, a large crack shooting across its surface before rolling lazily under a nearby desk, hidden from sight and forgotten.
He didn't notice, too preoccupied with trying to force Tony awake, shaking him with more force this time, like some sort of rag doll. Tony's head lolled to the side, his gaze flat and unseeing before him, and a feeling of hopelessness settled down on Hulk's chest, crushing the Green Goliath where he sat.
Voice nothing more than a low, mangled whimper, Hulk managed to choke out four, small words.
"Tin Man, wake up."