Tony had snapped. He was falling off the deep end, and this time, no one could catch him.
His problems began at the age of four, when he had built his circuit board. His father never had paid much attention to the young boy, but he soon realized how he could use Tony as a way to gain attention. But it was never enough for the great Howard Stark. No matter what Tony did, his father always wanted more. Tony kept asking for help, but he learned that he wasn't supposed to. So eventually, he stopped.
He learned to make a thick border around himself so no one could know the truth: Tony was never really okay. His nightmares never ended, even when he woke up. He had good days and good months, and even good years, but he couldn't ever seem to make it last. Something always made it crash into the bad days and bad months and bad years, and Tony was so tired of it all.
In fact, maybe it was time to give up. He had tried before, and he was trying to hide those attempts. As he sat in his workshop, he was slowly drooping down into his own hands. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. He just wanted it all to stop.
"FRIDAY, can you clear my schedule?" He asked, his head in his hands. On top of everything, he had a terrible headache. He stood up, which was a bad move because it only made his head hurt worse, and stumbled to the kitchen. Tony let out a sad chuckle, followed by a lot of tears. It was too late. He couldn't call anyone for help now. He had snapped at Rhodey and said thing he really wished he wouldn't have said. He had even messed it up with Peter. He was shaking as he reached for the knife block and pulled one out.
Peter Parker was on patrol when he suddenly he got a terrible feeling about something. He tried his hardest to look for the source of this feeling but couldn't find it. As he swung around, his phone lit up. He stopped on the perch of a building to see who just made his phone light up that way. It was a text from Tony.
"i'm sorry" was what the text read. Peter started to panic. He knew Tony had poor mental health, but he really hoped he was okay. Just as he was about to reply he got another text.
"Goodbye pete." It said. Nope, no way was Mr. Stark okay, he thought, feeling as if he was about to puke. He scattered to his feet and instantly started swinging to the stark tower. His heart was beating so fast, he felt like it may explode. Thank god he was close to the tower, since he had a meeting with Tony that had been oddly cancelled for some reason. Well, peter knew the reason now as he swung to the balcony.
He looked in horror as he saw tony lying on the couch with a bloody shirt and bloody hands and arms. He opened the sliding door as fast as he could with shaking hands and rushed in, yanking off his mask as he did so.
"Mr. Stark!" He cried out, voice cracking. He pulled out his phone and called 911 as soon as he made it in. As he was explaining what was going on, tony reached towards peter.
"`M sorry.. Pete.." he said quietly, touching Peter's cheek. He felt like he was going to puke. He could hear sirens as tony was dying.
Oh god, tony is dying. Oh my god. Oh god. Peter was sobbing now, trying to help in any way he could.
"Mr. Stark- I'll- i can- I'll help you- i-i- i swear-" Peter sputtered, trying to stop the bleeding the most he could. Tony was unconscious, and Peter was trying to pull himself together desperately. He could hardly breathe, let alone put his mask back on as the medics were rushing in. He couldn't stop his entire body from shaking. They were pulling Mr. Stark away, and everyone was yelling and his vision was blurring and oh my god tony stark is dying. Karen was saying something to peter, but he couldn't really hear it. He rushed out to the balcony and rushed away as fast as he could. He could hardly see, but it didn't stop him from swinging back to his own home.
He stopped on the top of some random building to change his clothes quickly, but made sure to keep the mask on as he made it home. His mask was nearly soaked from sobbing, and Karen had been pretty quiet the whole time. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. How would he explain the blood to aunt may? What if Tony didn't make it? Tony's blood was literally on his hands. He curled up on the cold roof, still sobbing.