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The bear started his life out as a bundle of thread, and leather, and fluff. It remembered those first few moments like a dream, the cottony spin of creation. He remembered a man, a tall one, smiling at him sometimes, soft eyes. The bear liked those eyes.
His own eyes were glass, and they were dark brown. He remembered the workshop he had first seen with them, going from blind to looking out onto a futuristic paradise. He sat on the table patiently, listening to the click and hum of the sewing machine moving its cloth through the leather of the costume. He didn’t know how he knew it was a costume, a costume for him. He just did.
He didn’t quite remember how long it had all taken. Not more than a week, but more than a day, until he was complete. But the bear was patient, and he would wait as long as he needed. He didn’t need to prove this fact to anyone, it just was.
‘Hey, Peter Bear,’ the man crooned. The man, the one who had created him, who had been first to squeeze his paw. ‘Ready for action?’
The bear was not ready before, and then, very suddenly, he was. ‘Best one yet,’ the man murmured, picking him up and straightening him out so all his limbs faced out. The bear didn’t have one of those cheesy smiling faces, he was understanding. His job was to be there, and to listen, to be held close. ‘Hey, Cap, how’s this one look?’
Another man smiled at the bear. Everyone had that same smile when they looked at him. One that was soft, and good, and right. The bear watched them briefly embrace, before the other man, the Cap, came closer. The bear was held in the air with fragile hands, softly stroked. His fur was still silky and soft where it poked out from the leather suit. ‘He looks great, Tony,’ the other man admitted.
Tony, his creator, beamed. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ His voice disappeared as he walked away, up into the elevator.
The bear was finished, all ready to go. But he sat there for a long while, and he did not know how long that lasted either, but he knew that it was more than one month and less than one year. He still sat, and he didn’t feel sad, because he was a patient bear. He would wait.
And then he was finished waiting, and the man came and wrapped him up in a big box, but he was not scared, because he was a bear, and he did not need air or light, and he was sure that he would be taken from the box soon...
And he was taken out of the box. It was a birthday party, something he knew existed but had never been inside of.
This was The Boy. The Boy was his boy, and the bear knew that. It was not a shock, for the bear knew that he would find his little boy or girl eventually, no matter how long he had to wait, but it was a warm glow. It was the best thing that the bear had ever felt, to finally be with his boy. It was a warm glow, one that became his heart, being with his boy. Bears did not have hearts, but bears did have a warm glow, a soft glow.
The bear had found his boy, and it felt soft, and good, and right.
‘Uh. Mr. Stark, I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, but don’t you think I’m a little old? I don’t really want him.’ The bear was not expecting it, but he was not sad, because even if the boy didn’t love him, the boy was happy and had plenty of people surrounding him and supporting him.
‘Oh, come on, Peter. Don’t you want Peter Bear? He’s homemade,’ the man argued, picking the bear up by the scruff of his neck and waving him around.
Beside him, another man scoffed. There were lots of men at the party, men and women there, but they did not matter like the boy mattered. ‘No one is too old for a bear. We all have them. Mine has little wings, see?’
The boy took the bear into his hand, holding him by one furry paw, and looked doubtfully at him. The bear did not know it by his eyes, but he knew in his fact that his boy’s hair matched his fur. ‘I mean, I’ll keep him’ he said, tucking the bear away, behind a tall box that had been unwrapped.
The bear laid there, and he knew that it was for longer than a week, but for less time than a month, until a woman finally picked him up. ‘Tony, I don’t think Peter ever brought his bear home!’ she called, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on his soft forehead. Her eyes were soft, and so was her smile. The bear felt, somehow, that she was very dangerous, and rarely ever this soft.
She had her own bear, one that the bear saw out of his glass, brown eyes, one with a soft shape and bright fur. The two of them both dangled from her hand, until she finally left him tucked into the couch. ‘Hey, Nat, where do you want to order in for lunch?’ a man asked.
The bear waited for the boy to come get him again. He was patient, and could wait a very long time, forever and ever if he had to. But the boy came and got him, putting him in a backpack.
The bear did not wait there for very long, and soon got to see his boy again. The boy put him on a desk, somewhere, his glass eyes turned around to the wall, so he could only hear the comings and going behind him.
There were many comings and going, that very first week. First, another boy came over to build things. He had a smiling voice, and he made the boy very happy, so the bear liked him very much. ‘Thanks for letting me come over, Peter. I still can’t believe we got the Millenium Falcon!’
‘I know, right?’ the boy said excitedly. ‘Mr. Stark was really generous for my birthday.’
The bear did not hear anything else, as they left the room, but he was content to hear the smile in his voice.
Another visitor was very common. She was a woman, and she was in charge of the boy. ‘Oh, Peter, clean your room, would you? This is a mess.’
‘It isn’t that bad, May!’ the boy protested. ‘I’m busy, too.’
‘I know. If you asked, I bet that Tony would give you a break, you know.’
‘I don’t want to do anything to upset Mr. Stark, Aunt May,’ the boy said earnestly.
‘Then what is that bear doing turned around to the wall?’
The boy huffed, shutting the door. The bear could not see what he was doing, but he thought that the boy might be upset. The bear’s job was to be soft and kind when these things happened, so a dull ache echoed around his body.
It continued, and it grew worse. The bear did not like the aching feeling, but he would let it consume him, because he knew that eventually, the boy would pick him up again, and he would be all okay again.
Somehow, the bear just knew.
It took a while. Longer than six months but less than a year, but the bear would wait forever. The boy was confused, and sometimes scared, he needed the soft cuddles of bear. It did not frustrate the bear to be helpless, or to be abandoned, because it knew that the boy was often happy, and well taken care of. The bear did not need to be needed, at its heart.
The day finally came, when his boy picked him up again. It was in a very dark and quiet night, one where no boy should be out, but his boy was very, very special. His boy should not have been out, but he was out, and then he was back, and he was very, very sad. Tears struck down on his face like the lightning outside, and the hair that matched his had just a little blood in it. The bear sat patiently, in case his boy needed him.
His boy did need him.
He picked him up, and clutched him so, so tight, and stained his fur with tears. The bear knew exactly what to do. He knew to sit, and soak up the tears. He knew to always be there, even when he was not paid attention to.
The boy looked down at him, where his tail poked out from his leather suit. He handled the bear gently, turning him over and peering closer between a sob and a wet whine.
‘Made with love. From Tony.’
The boy sat very still, the bear still clasped in his gentle hands. The bear knew very much about love. Every handmade, careful stitch was a tiny bit of love, even when he was cast aside. It had hurt to only watch, but it was a temporary hurt and it did not matter.
The day that the man had made him, and sewed those glass eyes on, the bear knew that he had a purpose and that was the boy. His job was to love him, and be there for hugs, and to soak up the tears, and to be soft and cuddly within the arms of his boy.
The man had worked for hours and hours to make the costume suit for the bear, and he sat hunched over the sewing machine for many sleepless nights, and so he might be hurt that the bear was abandoned for more than six months, but the bear did not really care. He was there for his boy now.
After many hours had passed, a whole night, the bear was tucked into that same backpack. He did not feel curious or scared, for he knew that the boy would take care of him. And he did.
The bear joined him inside the school, in the backpack, and then the bear was in the tower again. The place with the warm and light filled workshop that held a sewing machine, the place with the man who created him.
And it was so very much better to be there when his boy needed to hold him or cry into his soft fur, even if it meant that the fur was not so soft, and the place where his glass brown eyes rested became well worn.
The moment was like the first time he met his boy, and knew. Knew of his purpose, and of the things he would come to know, and those things were all of love. Everything the bear knew was love, from the soft look that people got into their eyes when he looked at them, even the faded milky eyes of the man, so many, many years older now, who held his own bear and the hand of the Cap.
‘Shh, dad. I’ve got you, don’t be scared,’ the boy who was now a man said, soothed. ‘You’ve made so much for us. Here, hold bear.’
The bear laid by the man, who was now a very old man, beside so many other bears that also knew of love and purpose and the soft look when they got it just right, all made by the same hand for different people. The man would be gone soon, and there would be no more bears that were just the same, but the bear knew that it did not matter.
‘Peter,’ coughed the man, bringing a wrinkled hand up to his son’s face. ‘I’m proud, okay? And I love you.’
He began to say more things like that, a torrent of words that softened every person’s face to tears, and they told him, you’ve done so much, Tony and rest now, Tony and we love you and it was the greatest thing of all.
His boy was holding him close, soaking his soft fur with tears though he was a grown man now, and the bear watched on as the oldest man closed his eyes and fell asleep.
And it was bittersweet but it is over now, as the man’s eyes are closed.
He is older now, and his boy is as old as his boy’s father was that day with all of the love in the room. His boy has children, grandchildren, that he holds and croons at, and the bear sits with him in case any small fingers want to touch the fur that is no longer soft.
The bear thinks it is very lucky. He thinks that all he knows is love, and that is all he has given away. He sits on a windowsill, the sun fading his fur, and waits for someone to pick him up again. The bear does not mind waiting, it has done a lot of waiting and it will do more.
The world is so soft, and good, and right.