You just had to visit your parents this weekend, didn’t you.
Your mom says it’s a blessing you’re home, but you see it as living hell. The two of you have been glued to the TV ever since the attack started. Shock has taken over both of you, and you sit in silence except for when you see Tony fly past the camera and the both of you gasp. Your mother has grown fond of your boyfriend too. Just a few minutes ago, the two of you watched as he flew willingly into the mouth of one of the huge, floating fish-things.
“Why would he do that?” your mother had shrieked. But you only noticed how he had flown out the other end, taking down the thing in his wake.
“Because he’s a smart idiot,” you had responded.
Now, the TV is focusing in on what seems to be the red-headed woman jumping from one of the alien’s small ships to the top of Stark Tower. You were standing on that very balcony just two days ago with Tony. “Mom,” you mutter, “please call Dad. I want him home.” Your mother nods and gets up to go to the phone. Your parents don’t live far from the city, and you want to be safe.
“Wait a minute.” The female newscaster interrupts the male as she leans forward in the corner of your screen. “Our cameras have just picked up what seem to be Tony Stark’s Ironman flying alongside a missile.”
You gasp and stand up just as your cell phone rings. You look down at the coffee table to see a picture of you and Tony from your third anniversary shows up on your phone. Gasping, you reach down, but your shaking hands accidentally knock your cell phone off of the table. You scramble onto your hands and knees and fish it out from under the table, sliding the answer button as quick as you can. “Tony?” you ask, voice quavering.
“Hey, (y/n),” his voice replies. Just hearing his voice makes you relax a tad, but you can still hear gunshots and what sounds like wind whipping by on his end.
“Tony, what are you doing?” you ask nervously, using the coffee table as leverage to help you back to your feet. Your mother walks in then, and upon seeing your distraught face, brings her hands to her mouth.
“Talking to you,” your boyfriend replies.
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Ah.” Tony grunts, and you hear what sounds like metal-on-metal scraping together. “I just wanted to … to hear your voice.”
You spin back around to face the TV and see the familiar red and gold suit still flying alongside the missile, but then the camera zooms in and you notice that he’s holding onto it. “Tony,” you whisper, “what are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” he replies. “Just … I love you.”
You choke back a sob. Tony and you have never said those words. You’ve always just known. It never needed to be said. But now, as you watch him turn the missile up and away from the city on the TV, you wish you had said it to him every second of every day. “Tony, please-”
“No, (y/n),” he cuts you off. “I love you so much. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and … if I don’t come back-”
“No,” you gasp and shake your head. “No, Tony, you’ll come back. Just-”
The room is completely silent except for your gasping and the TV still rolling footage from Manhattan. Pulling the phone away, you see the sign that the call ended because of lack of signal. You look back at the television to see that Tony had flown up and into the portal with the missile. “No,” you whisper.
Your mother takes a step forward. “(yln), what-”
“No!” You shriek, falling to your knees. You’ve never felt this week in your life. “No!” Your mother kneels down next to you and takes your shaking body into her arms. “He’s gone,” you sob, “He’s gone, gone gone …” your words dissolve into sobs, and you lean into your mother for support as you feel yourself break.