After that night, something changed. The shattered helmet stayed in the corner of your room for weeks. Eight months of work—gone. And somehow, what hurt worse wasn't the project. It was Tony walking away. At first, everyone noticed small things. You stopped showing him your projects. Stopped waiting outside the lab. Stopped asking if he wanted to watch movies or help with anything
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He stands there for a moment, guilt weighing heavy on his chest. He knew he'd messed up, but seeing the evidence of your broken spirit and broken creation in front of him made it real.
You hear him stop outside your room. He doesn't say anything, but you can feel his presence.
He stands there, staring at the helmet, feeling a pang of guilt. The sight of it—so broken yet still trying—makes his chest tighten.