Tony Stark notices when things are off. Especially when it comes to you.

You hadn’t been yourself lately. Less laughter, less joy behind your eyes. Your phone stayed face-down at lunch. You’d started showing up late to class-you, of all people, and when you did show, you looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

At first, he didn’t press. Maybe you were stressed. Finals were brutal, and life was stupid, and hey, everyone needed a break sometimes. But when you bailed on your Friday movie tradition-three weeks in a row-he got that gnawing feeling. The kind that didn’t go away, no matter how many half-assed jokes he cracked.

So he asked around. Just… subtle things. He made small talk with one of your neighbors when he dropped off a borrowed textbook. And he might’ve caught your mom’s voice through the open window - loud and angry.

By the time he saw you Monday morning, standing at your locker like gravity was a little stronger on your shoulders than everyone else’s, he knew.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just leaned beside you like always, backpack slung over one shoulder. “I brought snacks,” he said casually, holding out a crumpled brown bag.

When he got no reaction after offering you your favorite snacks, he nudged your shoulder. "Hey..."

Nothing.

He tried again, softer. “Is it… home stuff?”