Vogue | Tony Stark

THIRTY - SHOWTIME

"Estélla Goldwyn! Estélla! Has anyone seen her?"

A fourteen year old Tony frowned when the school gymnasium seemingly ground to a halt, silence filling the tall-ceilinged room for a few moments before a low mumble of chattering began to whisper from student's lips.

He peered over his classmates and craned his neck in sight, eyes narrowed as he tried to spot his best friend, though to no avail.

Her absence struck a chord of worry inside Tony, the boy having heard nothing else all week apart from how excited Esté was to perform in the gymnastics competition that afternoon.

Always organised and on time, it was undeniably out of character for Esté to not be waiting already by the balance beam in her leotard with a perfectly slicked back bun lifting her cheeks.

"We'll move on for the time being, I suppose." The teacher called out, clearing her throat after a prolonged silence that Estélla didn't fill.

With a spark of curiosity mixed with a pit of worry, Tony quickly shuffled to the end of the row of seats and pushed open the door, heading out of the gymnasium into the fresh air.

Students walked by in groups carrying piles of books and sports equipment, laughing and talking amongst themselves as Tony dismissed each and every girl with blond hair that passed him, none of them being the one he was looking for.

On the verge of defeat and hoping that Esté had stumbled into the gymnasium just a few minutes late, Tony was almost about to turn on his heels and head back inside, if only it hadn't been for the sound of a soft cry catching his attention.

Walking just a few feet around the corner, Tony's heart sank when he saw Esté crouched on the ground with her face hidden in her hands. She was dressed in a baby pink leotard and just like he'd expected, her golden hair was tied up out of her face, though there was no smile on her lips.

"Esté? What's wrong? You're supposed to be inside."

Crouching down beside her, Tony placed his hands on Esté's small shoulders, his soft voice coaxing her to look up from the ground. Her blue eyes were drowning in tears and her cheeks were stained with salt, her bottom lip quivering as she met his gaze.

"I'm scared," she sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, "I saw the other girls practicing earlier, I'm nowhere near as good as them."

Tony furrowed his brows and sank down with his back against the wall, pulling Esté down with him while he held his arm across her shoulders, her head falling comfortably against the crook of his neck.

"Are you kidding me? You're the best gymnast in the whole school, not just our grade. What happened? You've been so excited all week."

Esté coughed quietly as she wrapped her arms around Tony's torso, finding comfort in his warm embrace and the familiarity of his scent and his touch.

"I'm just so nervous, I don't want anybody to laugh at me if I fall or mess up."

"You won't mess up, you never could," Tony said, running his hand up and down her arm, "But even if you did, I'll be there to pick you up. I'd never laugh at you for anything and I'll always be there to support you, no matter what."

"You promise?" Esté looked up at him meekly, her eyes dryer than they had been a few moments ago.

His bright smile gave her a flash of hope and as he placed his hand across his chest, Esté knew that even if she didn't have it herself, Tony would always give her the strength she needed.