That mask is off his face fast enough to give a bystander whiplash. He throws it hard into the back of closet, body backing away until he hits the far wall, chest heaving. He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He scrubs his fists against his eyes until he sees spots dancing behind his eyelids.
May is calling his name through his door, and he had to have said something because after another second of silence she’s gone.
Slowly, he crawls back to his closet and retrieves his mask. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe-
no subject
That mask is off his face fast enough to give a bystander whiplash. He throws it hard into the back of closet, body backing away until he hits the far wall, chest heaving. He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
He scrubs his fists against his eyes until he sees spots dancing behind his eyelids.
May is calling his name through his door, and he had to have said something because after another second of silence she’s gone.
Slowly, he crawls back to his closet and retrieves his mask. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe-
He slips it back on with trembling hands.
“Mr. Stark?”