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You and I walk a fragile line
I have known it all this time
But I never thought I'd live to see it break
It's getting dark and it's all too quiet
And I can't trust anything now
And it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake
“Do me one last favor, Stephen,” Tony begged. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
Stephen inhaled, searching for the right words, reaching to the depth of his mind. But he couldn’t think of it. He couldn’t think of anything that’s not Tony–a painful proof of how much Tony had consumed his mind. Words hung on the tip of Stephen’s tongue, waiting to be spoken. But it washed out eventually.
These past weeks had both of them walking on a tightrope. No one knew who to blame for the never-ending conflicts that have been emerging between two of them. One wrong step and they’re done, and clearly something had pushed them to collapse.
The doctor and the mechanic spent time trying to heal, trying to fix what’s broken. It was an irony that they both failed. The wound was too deep to cure, the damage was irreparable.
Oh, I'm holding my breath
Won't lose you again
Something's made your eyes go cold
“I’m sorry, Tony.” In the end, that was the only thing that Stephen is capable of saying.
Tony grabbed Stephen’s shoulders. His touch used to be warm, a touch of a gentle lover. But his grasp had turned rough and cold on Stephen’s clothed skin.
“If you truly are, then maybe all of these shits wouldn’t happen,” he said, voice trembling. Yet, every syllable he had spoken was said clearly, suffocating Stephen even more. Soft lights pierced through the Sanctum’s windows, but the one in Tony’s eyes dimmed.
‘Don’t you get it?’ Stephen swore he could hear those brown irises taunting him cruelly. ‘He’s no longer yours.’
“We’re hopeless, Stephen. We’re beyond repair. Maybe it was my fault, maybe it was yours. We’ll never know. But we will cut it here and now. There’s nothing we need to elaborate. None. Zero,” Tony snapped.
“I thought we already figured it out,” Stephen said weakly, almost sounding like he was begging. “We went through this in the past.”
“Don’t you understand?” Tony’s fingers dug with rage into Stephen’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to figure out. I don’t care how much we loved each other, it’s no longer relevant. I had the patience in the past, knowing it’ll run out at last. And this is it, Doc. You’re devouring the very last dose of my patience.”
There it is. Tony took Stephen’s name out of his mouth, called him like they were strangers again. Tony’s words sounded very much like a verdict that marked Stephen as the guilty one. Even without doing his good old astral projection, Stephen could feel his soul starting to break.
“I’m leaving, Doc.” Tony loosened his grip on Stephen’s shoulders, dragging his suitcase towards the Sanctum’s door. “I suppose I already have everything I need here. You should try to not miss me too much.”
Stephen replied with a bitter smile. “You forgot your perfume, it’s still in my bedroom,” he said. “That was on purpose, wasn’t it?”
Tony returned the smile with an unwilling one. “You know me the best,” he said as he turned his face from Stephen’s. That was already the second time that day, Tony unconsciously breaking Stephen’s soul. (Way to go, Tony.)
“You’re a fucking jerk,” Stephen cussed, still smiling. “Ditched two years of memories, and now you’re leaving me being haunted with your lingering scent every time I go to bed.”
Tony let out one last laugh, shrugged as he walked through the door, walking away from Stephen. “Don’t twist the situation, Doc. You’re the one who ditched us.”
The last word echoed loudly inside the Sanctum as the door closed. And that was Stephen’s last straw, he found his soul shattered, his body weakened, his knees thumped on the floor.
‘He left, at last,’ he thought, burying his face in his trembling hands out of frustration. ‘... and it’s my fault.’
What had he done wrong? Was it his arrogance? Was it the lack of trust? Was it the way Stephen treated him? Stephen needed an answer, but Tony’s attitude screamed contradictory. Tony thought it was clear, but Stephen couldn’t see through the blurry glasses Tony put him in. And Tony refused to clear it for him.
Stephen needed a cure. A distraction. Yet, things became everything but better. He could still feel Tony’s presence in every inch of the Sanctum. His typical fragrance that refused to vanish from Stephen’s bedroom. His bed never felt this vacant, nor did his heart. Everything became very quiet without Tony’s endless blabber.
Stephen tried to seek cure in forgetting, trying to heal by pretending it never happened. His stack of spell books got replaced by glasses of alcoholic drinks. He seemed not to care about the fact that he’s slowly deteriorating. Because of love, or more accurately, because of the absence of it.
Even Wong found it hard trying to stop him. He’d got drunk often, unconsciously messing up in the Sanctum. On the worst nights, he would even leave the Sanctum to drink. And he pushed his own limits, crossed his own line. He became a person he never thought he’d become.
He tried to drown Tony together with the liquid in the cup. He wouldn't like to admit it, but every effort he made to forget was useless. Tony's still gone when he was done with the bottle.
He couldn't forget him. In fact, every sip reminded Stephen of him even more.
Tony was a bruise so vivid that had been hurting him effortlessly. He was an agonizing flame that'll forever burn in Stephen's mind. A thorn that had been pricking him endlessly even without him touching it.
He was a film that had been looping in Stephen's head, and every repetition would hurt him even more, every replay made it harder for him.
Tony was a memory so hurting that refused to be forgotten. A memory that would haunt him forever.
One night caused him so much distress that he called Tony’s number unintentionally.
“Stephen, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he said across the phone. Tony was utterly shocked, of course. He never bothered checking on Stephen, not knowing how great the damage he left on him.
Stephen muttered inaudible words, accompanied by uneven breaths. Tony quickly caught up with what happened to him.
“‘You’re drunk,” he said gently. “Go home. I’ll call Wong.”
“I no longer have one,” Stephen answered, he let out a bitter laugh. “You were my home, Tony.”
Tony hissed and cussed, telling Stephen to stay on the phone, while he got in the car, frantically driving to pick Stephen up.
Come on, don't leave me like this
I thought I had you figured out
Something's gone terribly wrong
You're all I wanted
They ended up in Tony’s room in the Stark Tower. He served Stephen a hangover cure with FRIDAY’s help. The sorcerer laid weak in Tony’s bed.
“If you feel better already, I’ll drive you to the Sanctum,” Tony said. “There’s some stuff from work I need to—”
Tony felt a frail grasp stopping him from getting up from the bed.
“Don't leave me,” begged Stephen with a hoarse voice. “Please.”
“I can’t,” he replied firmly. A part of Tony wanted to obey, but he promised to himself not to pity Stephen anymore. “I’m sorry that I never checked on you. I never thought you'd … be like this.”
Tony wouldn't even look at Stephen, but he could feel Stephen was staring at him, his eyes fixated at him.
Stephen was longing, trying to seek the same old light in Tony's eyes. But he knew, all that he would found is hollowness.
Stephen chuckled, there was a hint of pain in his laugh. “Ah,” he said. “Always judgmental, Tony. Alas, you never changed.”
“I haven't lost my sanity, though,” he replied.
“Have you ever thought that all of these shits actually happened because of you?” Stephen asked, laughing. “You seized my sanity as you left me. I lost it when I lost you.”
Tony froze for a second, but he didn’t bother to reply, he left the bedroom. He left Stephen alone, like he already did back at the Sanctum. And he’d do it again after he drove Stephen home …
And he’d never turn back.
And Stephen would forever be haunted.
Come on, don't leave me like this
I thought I had you figured out
Can't breathe whenever you're gone
Can't turn back now, I'm haunted