The Thing About Soulmates || Tony Stark

The Voice

December 18, 1991 - 3:24 a.m.

...Why won't this stupid algorithm work? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. One simple thing. It can't even do that. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid...

You groaned, rolling over to look at the clock. Three minutes? How has it only been three minutes?

With your luck, the voice decided to show up at three in the morning. 

...Why can't you do anything right?...

The voice softened, dripping with sadness and guilt. 

...All it took was a simple 'wait mom' or 'please don't go'. You could've saved her. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You could have saved her. You didn't. Are you really that conceded that you couldn't save your own mother?...

His voice was angelic and raspy. Very, very raspy. By the sound of it, you suspected he was crying. What did he do to his mother? How could he have saved her?

...You had to let her go away with him. You had to let her go on that stupid trip. Why couldn't you see that this was going to end badly? They couldn't even tell you where they were going. Couldn't you see?...

You sighed, not sure if you were filled with joy or frustration for hearing your soulmate at these ungodly hours. Knowing the voice wouldn't stop, you rolled onto your back, looking up at the ceiling. Memories from the lesson your teacher taught you last year started flowing through your mind. What else did she say about the bond? Something like the closer you are, the softer the voice is? You stopped thinking for a moment to listen. 

...Why did you have to listen to him? He said they'd be fine. Obviously he was wrong. Why couldn't you just- Dam it! Look at what you did. Too busy in your own dam thoughts to notice the server overheating. Now you have to start over, idiot...

He was practically screaming. How far could he be from Colorado? 

December 18, 1991 - 7:16 a.m.

A delicious smell traveled to your nose alongside a 'morning, honey' to your ears as you walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Morning, mom."

She stopped flipping pancakes to face you. "How does it feel to finally be an adult?" she asked, a small smile spread proudly across her face.

"The same way it felt to be seventeen, surprisingly. Besides for the voice, of course," you shrugged.

A squeal erupted from your mother. "The voice? You already heard their voice? Why didn't you tell me, [Y/N]!" 

"Because I don't think it's that big of a deal," you shrugged, yet again. 

"Not a big deal?" your mother gawked, "It's a huge deal! It means your soulmate is really out there and you're one step closer to finding them!"

"Now tell me, was it a boy or a girl?" She took one step closer.

"It's a boy, mom," you laughed, turning around to open the fridge. 

You heard another squeal from behind you.

"What does he sound like," she paused, thinking, "Was it high pitched and squeaky or low and husky?"

You giggled at her impression of the terminator. "I'd say it was in between. It was soothing, I know that for sure, but I couldn't really hear it that well. His voice sounded thick, like he had just been crying."

"Oh, the poor boy," your mother mumbled, bending down to grab a bowl for some some fruit. 

"Jan? What's all this noise about?" you father questioned, walking over to the island. 

"Harold, you won't believe it! [Y/N] heard her soulmate!" your mom exclaimed, still looking for that darn special-occasion bowl. 

"Oh, congrats, [Y/N]. How loud was it?" 

Your mother popped up and had a look on her face that practically screamed 'oh, how did I not think of that?'

"Um, I'd say it was pretty loud, especially for waking me up in the middle of the night. But it was probably more of a decent volume, so no half way across the world but maybe across the country, like Pennsylvania?" you finished, looking towards your mother.

"Oh, that's perfect!" she gleamed, "if you haven't already met your soulmate by our next family reunion in New York, maybe you could look for him there!"

"Yeah, that sounds good," you lied, hoping you wouldn't have to wait ten years to meet your soulmate. 

Noticing his absence from the conversation, you glanced toward your father. "Dad? What's wrong?" you worried at the sight of tears brimming his eyes. 

"My little girl's not so little anymore," he whimpered, walking over to you.

"Awe, dad," you whined, your eyes getting watery as well, "I'll always be your little girl no matter what."

Your father engulfed you in a hug, your mother soon joining. All three of you stood in the middle of the kitchen, sniffling at the fact that your childhood was basically over. 

"I love you guys," you whispered.

"And we love you, [Y/N]. You're the best daughter a mother could ever ask for."

"A father too."

A few moments passed before you noticed the clock in front of you. "Okay, okay, I have to go get ready for school," you said as you grudgingly broke up the hug.

"Hurry up, you don't want to be late on your birthday," your mother teased.

---

When you came back down stairs, your parents were sitting at the table with a stack of the 'traditional birthday pancakes' and a newspaper open in your dads hands. 

"Well today's headliner will be one for the books," he announced. 

"What? Why?"

"The Stark's died in a car crash last night."

"All of them?" you worried, sadness enveloping your heart.

"No, no. Only Howard and Maria. Anthony's fine, although he's probably heart broken, poor kid."

"Yeah," you muttered, wondering why you felt such a weight on your chest. Yes, you felt terrible for Anthony, but you didn't know them personally. Although the feeling in your stomach suggested otherwise. 

"I think I'm going to be sick," you stated before running out of the room and straight to the porcelain throne you would call home that day.