MARVEL IMAGINES

TONY STARK • "Just a kid"

"Tony...?" You whispered, gently taking his hand reassuringly.

"hmm? Yeah I'm fine," he said, pulling his hand away, an obviously fake smile on his face.

"Tony, did you hear me?" The man in front of you asked.

"no," Tony chimed in, not really caring,

"I said we were thinking to just do a classic black themed funeral."

Tony suddenly became interested, "no." He stated, stubbornly placing his hands on the table. "Peter likes red." He shut his eyes, fighting back tears that burned against his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks. "Liked. He liked red." You felt so bad for him. He'd lost everything, he obviously blamed himself which wasn't healthy.

"Okay, Tony, we'll do red," you smiled.

"Not that it even matters, he won't know.." Tony trailed off, a sharp breath escaping his lips. "I don't think he really would've cared. He obviously didn't think about it, he was just a kid." You could practically see Tony's heart breaking, he didn't respond well to that particular phrase.

He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair. He breathed heavily, barely even able to take in air. "He was just a kid," he whispered again, heading out the door. He got in his car and put his head on the steering wheel, still barely breathing. Tears stained his face. "He was just a kid, Tony. What the hell were you thinking?" He asked himself, clenching his fists together so tightly that his nails almost broke the skin. He didn't like red, he'd liked red. Tony sat in his car, he gritted his teeth and spoke a command, "FRIDAY, play Peter's death."

"Boss, I don't know if that's such a good idea.."

"just do it!"

A small screen on the dashboard started playing a blurry video from that day on titan. "Pause," Tony spoke, his voice breaking. He looked at the frozen screen, "you didn't need to be sorry, Kid. You did good, better than me. If you're actually out there, I hope you know I'm proud of you... I'm the one who should be sorry. God look at me, I'm talking to a video," he whispered the last part, taking his head in his hands. Sinking further down into himself. "God, I'm sorry!" He shouted this time. Slamming his fist into the steering wheel, setting off the horn. You knocked on his window.

"Tony..." you said softly.

"Just don't, Y/N. He was just a kid."

—

WRITTEN BY CAMI
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