❛❛I just don't want you to leave
even though I gave you reasons
to.❜❜
She grew up with him.
She befriended him.
She cared for him.
She showed him what it felt like to be happy.
She loved him.
And he ruined her relentlessly...
My love for you is etched by fire and seared with pain into my heart.
• • •
"Can I ask you something?"
Tony had asked, getting comfortable on the chair, watching Evelyn make them some breakfast.
Lucas and Diana were completely against them leaving, wanting them to stay as long as they could get them to.
Not that they complained, Tony had indeed missed this place.
It was home.
It smelled like home, it felt like home, and it had his family.
The corners of his lips tugged up after spotting the same old drawings on the fridge.
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No matter how many times Tony begged her, Diana just wouldn't toss his drawings out.
He was nine years old when he drew that.
One afternoon after school he had asked his driver to take him back to Uncle Lucas' place because he had forgotten his papers there, which was a complete lie.
The minute he had opened the door, he grinned and ran over to Diana, showing her what he had made them.
She only smiled at him, and told him that it was beautiful and that Howard would love it, which only made him frown.
He had told her that this was for them, he had told her that Lucas was his dad, he had asked her if it was alright if he could always use his bedroom upstairs and stay with them forever, and he would make space for his mom next to him on the bed.
He was rambling on and on not noticing the pained look on her features, the pity behind all the sorrow.
His father never played with him, never bought him new coloured pens to draw with, never hugged him, and despite Tony's nagging it always remained the same.
He would immediately go into his mother's arms for comfort when his father would scream at him to be a man, to stop begging for attention, to stop being a spoiled rich brat.
He had told him to act like a man, a man did not need hugs, a man did not waste his time on stupid things like drawing.
His mother would apologise on his father's behalf, and kiss his forehead, wrapping her arms around her little boy.
And throughout all these years, Tony Stark could never forget the feeling he got when his mother would hold him.
