Irondad Oneshots

Empty - Part 2

I find myself wandering the streets of Queens one late afternoon.

The emptiness is ever present and it feels like the world is resting on my shoulders.

May thinks I'm with Tony, and I told Tony that I wasn't feeling well and would skip the day at the tower. Instead, I'm wandering the surprisingly empty streets of the city by myself.

It's peaceful, but does nothing to calm my nerves or my sadness.

The moon hangs low in the horizon, suspended just visible between the sky scrapers of New York. The sky is still magenta from the sunset, colors bleeding out into blue for the vast majority of the sky. I know someone will get worried about my whereabouts at some point, but I couldn't honestly care less.

I've been feeling suffocated all day. The sort of feeling that makes your chest constricted and hard to breath, but it's not bad enough for you to call someone or ask for help, not bad enough for anyone to notice or even worry. The sort of feeling that makes you jump at every noise, flinch at every loud sound, a sensory overload almost, but in the sense that it just bothers you, not sends you into a panic. The sort of feeling that makes your head spin and your heart ache and makes you want to cry, but you can't cry. So you go about your normal day because nothing is wrong.

Nothing should be wrong. Nothing is wrong on the outside. So nobody even notices. Everyone just laughs and jokes around and you have to join in lest somebody notices you're off.

And you know the smallest thing will set you off, you just don't know what. You're worried that even a simple bump to your shoulder, kind or mean, will send you into a panic attack. A single word could make you cry.

And before you know it, you're drained. Of all energy from holding back the tears and the pain and the feelings. All that's left is a broken shell of yourself and you just want to sleep. You've got nothing left to give, but you still try to give more.

And then you're so emotionally tired, but you're not physically tired so you can't complain, knowing that no matter how much you sleep, you'll still wake up with the same exhaustion.

My phone's been ringing, over and over again, but I can't bring myself to answer it. I've found myself sitting against a wall in an empty alleyway between buildings. I don't remember where I am or how I got here. I don't know what time it is or even if it's still the same day. But I couldn't care less.

The Iron Man theme song plays this time, instead of May's ringer, and it's a nice change. I prefer this song over the other one, but I haven't found the time to change May's yet.

I still don't answer the phone call, letting it go to voicemail like all the others.

I just can't make myself care. Nothing matters in my hazy mind.

Not May, not Tony, not Ned, not even myself. Nothing matters.

A car drives past the alley and I barely even spare it a second glance, eyes glued to the concrete underneath me. It's darker than it normally is. A dark grey, not a light grey. And then I realize it's raining. It's probably been raining for a while I realize as I take in the almost black color of my jeans and the tremble in my fingers, but I don't feel wet. I don't feel anything.

I don't hear the footsteps racing over to me or the shout of my name. I don't hear the rumbling engine in the background or the sound of someone crying. Nothing registers.

I'm finally brought back to my body, mind clearing just enough for my senses to come back to me.

I realize that I'm shaking I'm so cold from the rain, there's someone crying not too far from me, maybe even 2 people crying. My heart is heavy and tight inside my constricted chest thanks to probably anxiety. All I can feel is cold and the warmth from the hand on my shoulder. The sun is rising in the horizon and I'm not sure where the time went but it must be somewhere around 5 in the morning. It smells like garbage, but overpowering that is the smell of gas from the running car at the end of the alley.