Melancholy Hope {Spiderson&Irondad}

Chapter 15

I've been super sick so I ended up missing Tuesdays update sorry 

Tony's POV

The awful noise is still echoing through my head. I don't think I'll ever forget it. Of me backhanding the poor kid. The slap.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Did I actually- Did I do that?" I ask, head filling with cotton as the scene replays over and over and over again.

"Yes you did that! What the hell is wrong with you, Tony?!" Pepper demands, glaring at me.

"I don't know! I don't know," I exclaim, pulling myself to my feet. "I don't know what's wrong with me! I just freaked out and started drinking and then... I don't know!"

"You better fucking figure this out or I swear to god, Tony..." Pepper hisses, throwing her arms up in anger. 

"I know, I know, I know. I will. I'll figure this out, I swear. I'll fix this," I say, pushing away my hangover. 

"After everything he's been through, Tony... After everything... And now this? Do you really think it's possible for him to bounce back from this?" Pepper asks and I know she's right. She's so beyond right. I promised him over and over and over again that I'd take care of him, that I'd never hurt him. He just lost Wade and now he's lost me too. The poor kid. 

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes as I drop my head down in shame. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Don't say that to me. Say that to him. But only if you mean it. I don't want to keep him around if you're going to be a danger to him. I'm not going to let you mess this up, okay? Get some rest, get over this hangover, figure out what the hell you're going to say and what you're going to do, and then, only then, call him. I need you to be one hundred percent certain about this. After everything he's been through, I'm not going to let him go through this again," Pepper says, turning and stalking away from me, heels clicking against the floor as she goes. 

"Fuck," I groan, letting my body droop back against the table.

The guilt is overwhelming, filling every crevice of my mind, making the room spin and my legs tremble. It's my fault. I shouldn't have been drinking at all. I definitely shouldn't have been drinking to the point of uncontrollable anger and loss of memories. 

"Fuck," I repeat, head pounding with the remnants of my hangover. I can't believe I've hurt my kid. My kid. Can't believe I yelled at him, laid hands on him. Can't believe I made him cry. 

After everything he's been through. All the abusive home. All the neglect. All the hate and anger he's grown up with. All the pain he carries on his shoulders with every waking moment. All the nightmares from the hell he went through. All the hits and screamed insults from drunken foster parents. And I'm just another. Just another home who's hit him and yelled at him and made him cry and bruised his soft skin. Just another home for him to fear and run away from. Except now, the only place to run is to May's home which he hates just as much. 

I hate myself for causing this. I knew getting drunk was a bad idea from the moment I picked up the bottle Knew from the moment it was burning my throat on the way down. Knew when the room started spinning and my mind floated away. It was a bad idea, but I was so stressed with everything happening with May and Peter. And I ended up just making everything worse. 

I find myself collapsing down onto the couch in the lab, guilt weighing down heavily on my chest, in my mind, everywhere, and my eyes are closing of their own accords. I know I should be focusing on fixing this with Peter, but I can't fuck this up more than I already have, so sleep is my first step. When I wake, I'll fix this. I will. I have to. I can't let him go back into the system, I'll never stop fighting for him.