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It'd be easier if someone was at fault, if there was someone to blame. Maybe he could find a way to blame himself. Maybe there was a way to blame them both. Even if there was nowhere to point the blame, he felt it should be pointed at him. He didn't know why. Now he was by himself, sitting on the floor in the middle of his room, shattered glass to his immediate right, drowning in a puddle of water stained red. He may have accidentally jabbed some of the glass in his hand and leg when his knees gave out, collapsing him on the floor in a heap of a mess, staring at the open door with a blank expression. He barely noticed the sting when the shards ripped through his skin, he was too numb. His mind won't give him a break, it was replaying the angry blue eyes shifting into broken sadness, it was replaying the man who took the step through the threshold of the door, it replayed the man who walked away, signaling an end. He didn't get to say much, not as much as he wanted to. He couldn't find it in himself. It'd be okay. They just needed time. It would be fine.
Originally he thought it would be a couple days, two weeks at most. It'd been a month. People were starting to ask questions. His friends gave him glances, some laced in question and wonder, most laced in knowing and pity. They didn't know the whole story, he knew that. He knew that the man his mind was constantly hung up on wouldn't speak everything aloud to them, out of respect or out of fear, he wasn't sure. They knew what they were allowed to know. They didn't know everything, just that there was a falling out - it'd need time to be recovered. Time kept going on. Time kept going on without an encounter. His heart started falling.
Two months. Two months, surely that was an appropriate amount of time. It had to be, it was enough time for him at least. Hell, a week was enough time for him. But he wasn't sure about the other party. Two months surely had to be an appropriate amount of time. The more time that went on, the heavier he became. Heavy with guilt, shame, sadness, loneliness... he couldn't bring up enough strength to stop himself from going over. He had to say what he wanted to say. He'd had time to think about it while the other had time to settle. Two months. Two months, surely that was an appropriate amount of time.
Gathering up enough strength to knock on the door in front of him was an entirely different story. It was staring at him, taunting him in its solidity. He lifted his hand, knuckles touching the wood gently. He breathed steadily, gathering up the courage to rasp his fist against the door. He didn't need to apparently, for before his knuckles were able to come into hard contact with the only barrier he had between the man his brain constantly thought of, it swung open, causing a jolt of surprise to run up his spine, having him reel backward. He would've fallen if it weren't for strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him up in one fluid motion until he banged against the chest of the man he hadn't seen in three months. His heart was racing, he swallowed dryly, backing away with a hesitant step. Blue eyes narrowed in confusion, brows furrowing, silently voicing his thoughts, 'what the hell are you doing here?' What was he doing here? That was a good question. He hadn't rehearsed what he was going to say, he was working on complete and utter improv.
"I didn't really get to say much before you left." Brows furrowed deeper, blue eyes narrowing further,
"It's been two months."
"I thought you needed time."
The man stepped aside, allowing space for him to walk inside the apartment, being hit with familiarity and a sense of home. It was probably just because he was seeing him for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. "How do you avoid me so well for three months, Steve?" He asked, fingers trailing one of the shelves that lined the entryway, no dust gathering on his fingertip. Clean and void of impurity. Steve crossed his arms over his chest, his face stern, avoiding eye contact, avoiding even to look in his general direction,
"Sometimes it's easy to do things when you know you have to."
"That's the thing," he said, pointing a finger, taking a slow step closer, to which Steve responded by taking one backward, "you didn't have to."
"Yes I did," Steve insisted, his gaze glued to the other side of the room, "it was unprofessional and I needed time."
"Time to what?"
"Time to get over it."
That made his heart stop. Those were not the words he wanted to hear. It might've been selfish, but he did not want Steve to get over it - get over him. Yeah, that made him a terrible person, but out of all the things he could possibly not want, that was number one. "Did you?" He asked quietly, slowly; he wasn't sure he wanted to actually know the answer. Steve's jaw twitched, his stare intensifying, the short amount of silence ripped through him like a blade, he was anticipating the answer, but he was also dreading the moment he would hear it.
"I," Steve began, his head tilting, eyes closing and opening before they flicked over in his direction for the first time, only for a split second before returning to their spot on the couch. "I wouldn't still be avoiding you if I had, Tony." A weight lifted off his chest, a ghost smile on his lips that he quickly wiped away before Steve would be able to see it.
"You don't have to stay away,"
"Maybe not for you, but for myself," blue finally connected with brown, a symphony of every beautiful tragedy. "For her," his voice was sad, his expression similar to that of a kicked puppy. "You should go, Tony," Steve suggested, turning around so that his back was facing him, "most people don't like finding out that their significant other is taking trips to see people who are in love with them." He probably deserved the distance. He probably deserved the way Steve's words sliced through him. He nodded his head, his eyes unhurriedly trailing away from Steve's back. Outside the door, a defeated sigh escaped his lips, a sigh that was half a sob. He shook it off. There was still hope. It would be okay. They would be fine.
~
He busied himself in his lab, tinkering with tools and projects and experiments, anything that would distract him, keep his brain from going into territory that it should avoid. Allowing himself to dwell on the situation surprisingly didn't help it any. He would ask himself pointless questions; pointless because he didn't know the answer.
"Tony, please get out of your lab."
He grunted, running an exhausted hand down his face before complying, knowing he had no chance of winning an argument with her, especially in this state. "What time is it?" He asked, wrapping an arm around her waist, feeling something tug in the back of his mind, telling him that was wrong and he should pull away. So he did, covering it with a stretch so she wouldn't catch it.
"Late," she responded easily, edging toward him for a kiss. His eyes widened, his brain screaming at him that that was all kinds of wrong. A chaste kiss was all she got. He didn't know why his body was reacting so sourly. She was his girlfriend, after all, has been for about two years now. So why did he feel like he was cheating someone with all the public displays of affection; it wasn't really in his nature to shy away from touch. "Are you okay?" She asked curiously when they made it to their bedroom. Right, their bedroom, because couples did that. "Tony?" She pressed when he didn't answer, placing a delicate hand on his chest, scrutinizing him. Something clicked in her head, it was clear in the way her eyes lit up and her features softened, a microscopic step backward, her hand no longer as flush on him, "what happened?" Her voice was sad, knowing, like she knew he was having turmoil in his own head. What did happen? He wasn't even sure.
"I," he began, the words falling away from his tongue, his mind going blank as he stared out the window. "I went to see someone," he answered after a moment, his gaze shifting so that it was on her; she deserved his attention the most right now. Her hand fell away from his chest, landing at her side heavily, a frown digging into her lips, her eyes glistening with liquid.
"The one who's in love with you?" Her voice cracked, although she tried to hide it, he was able to pick up on it. He tilted his head, his mouth opening slightly, but before he could ask his question a light chuckle escaped her lips and she looked at him squarely, "please, it wasn't that hard to see - definitely wasn't that hard to hear." Of course, he had almost forgotten that she came over to surprise him when Steve lost his ability to continue pushing his feelings back. The two of them had been his room, and Tony was angry - angry that Steve was being protective of him, and in the midst of all frustration, the words spilled - or flooded - out of Steve's mouth in a booming confession of "because I'm in love with you!" It was in that moment that Tony's walls began to fall, he had always thought, always wondered, always felt a little warmer when Steve was near; he tried to analyze it, to figure out his feelings, but he let them go, ignored them, shoved them away. But then Steve had to go and give him hope, had to go and let him know that there was possibility, a chance... for them. Looking at Pepper now, he felt like he was caving in; his stomach was in his throat, his heart was constricting. "Why did you go see him?"
"He's my friend, Pepper."
"I know that," she said softly, her features compassionate, "but after all this time, why?" He didn't know. He really didn't. Pepper's eyes fell to the floor, a single tear trailing down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away, sniffling as she picked her head back up. "What, do you- do you love him too?" She asked, trying her best to keep the lump in her throat at bay. His face was blank. Did he? He could. He wasn't sure, but he could see himself potentially reciprocating. "Oh my god," a sob pressed passed her lips, her hands slapping against her mouth as her eyes welled with tears, she adverted her gaze, "oh my god, you love him, too." The tears were falling freely from her eyes now, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. She sealed her lips together, preventing cries from leaving her throat. She nodded her head frantically, wiping away the tears as they fell before she glanced back at him, eyes watery, cheeks stained, "so what, you don't love me anymore?"
"No," he answered quickly, grabbing her shoulders and looking directly into her eyes, "I do, I do love you."
"You're just not in love with me," she confirmed, a few more tears falling. His jaw was slack in wonder, his eyes wide and ashamed. He had never thought about it, but thinking of it now, it made a lot of sense. Their dynamic had changed the moment Steve walked away; he subconsciously questioned his emotions and feelings the second Steve confessed, and he had been tailing Pepper along for three months because he was too emotionally constipated to realize how he actually felt. Everything that he felt for Steve was buried in what he knew he felt for Pepper, but the moment hope was brought to his attention, the moment he found out there could be a chance for him and Steve, everything inside him became a whirlwind, shifting and changing, unbeknownst to him. Suddenly, it made sense. "I guess I should've known," Pepper admitted, ducking her head, "I saw the way you looked at him sometimes - longing and pure, raw emotion. I just... never really allowed myself to dwell on it." She moved to the other side of the room, grabbing a suitcase, opening it only to begin filling it up. He watched her, unmoving. "I definitely should've known by the way you were so crushed when he left."
"You don't have to do that right now," he whispered, grabbing Pepper's wrist, gently tugging her hand away from the clothes she was tossing inside the case.
"Yes I do," she said, softly shoving him away, frantically folding her shirts before shoving them into the far side of the suitcase. "I can't stand between two people who are in love," she looked at him, eye contact strong, "I won't," a sad smile spread across her lips as she zipped the suitcase without breaking eye contact. "It's okay," she whispered, getting up and placing a tender hand on his cheek, "it's okay, I'm not mad, I want you to be happy, even if that's not with me." She kissed his cheek simply, pulling the suitcase behind her as she walked toward the door, "so don't give up until you get him. I love you."
And then he was alone in his room again, feeling empty, feeling like crap. He ran his hand through his hair, carding his fingers through his locks before he settled on his bed, not bothering to undress into sleeping wear; he merely just closed his eyes and allowed exhaustion to overcome him.
~
He allowed a couple weeks to pass after Pepper left him before he even toyed with the idea of going to see Steve again. He loved Pepper and he respected Pepper, and he respected Steve enough to make him feel like he was not just a rebound. God, everyone knew Steve was so much more than that.
He went over to Steve's apartment complex when Natasha gave him the heads up that Steve was out at the gym. He convinced the landlord to tell Steve to meet him up on the roof, but to not tell him why, just say that it was urgent he go up there. That was twenty minutes ago and his heart rate hadn't settled down and every now and then his breath would hitch in his throat before he remembered how to properly exhale and inhale. He was looking out at the city when he heard Steve's footsteps, "what is this?" He turned around, a sheepish grin on his face and a small shrug.
"I still haven't really gotten to say everything I need to."
"Tony," Steve began tiredly, looking out over the city with a defeated expression on his face, his blue eyes dim.
"No," he interjected before Steve had the chance to continue, "I need to say this." He pointed a finger, his eyebrows quirking in desperation. A little sigh escaped Steve's lungs before he gave in, nodded his head, and leaned against the generator. "Okay," he started, his voice a little more up once he had the floor to himself, "three months ago, what did you say to me?" Steve turned toward him, his face pulled in confusion,
"I told you," he began quietly, adverting his gaze once more before granting him with eye contact, "I told that I was in love with you."
"Yes," he responded in a chipper tone like a teacher that was proud of a student who got the answer right, "and I can't even tell you how much that confession fucked me up." His eyes were wide, glistening, he worried on his bottom lip before he continued, "the moment I heard the words on your mouth, everything inside me changed. But I ignored it, in usual Tony Stark behaviour, I ignored the effect that your words had on me. In doing so, I hurt you, I hurt Pepper, and I hurt myself." A manic laugh escaped him and he shook his head, turning around to look at the horizon over all the skyscrapers.
"What are you saying, Tony?" Steve asked from behind him, his voice low and unhappy. He sighed,
"What I'm saying is that I'm sorry for not being good with emotions," he turned around then, staring into Steve's eyes, "it took breaking two hearts for me to realize that," he bit his bottom lip, swallowing down the lump that was beginning to grow in his throat, he threatened the tears that were threatening him, "that I'm in love with you, too," he offered a committal grin and a shrug. "I suppose that it was always there - the feeling. I knew that I always had the potential to be in love with you, but I couldn't because I was no good for you, or I was with Pepper, or I didn't believe I felt it, or probably a combination of all three.
"But what I'm saying right here and right now as I bare myself to you, is true. I am in love with you, Steve Rogers." He didn't realize that his eyes were watering until a single tear slid down his cheek; he ignored it though, too focused on Steve's expression. His blue eyes were big, more lit up than they were previously, his lips plump and parted,
"So what are you saying?" He asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper.
"I'm saying, that you don't have to stay away anymore." A trying grin plastered on his face, "you can come back." Steve shook his head, smearing his lips together as his eyes welled with tears,
"Tony, I can't."
"If it's because of Pepper, she's part of the reason that I'm here," he explained desperately, "please, Steve, you don't have to stay away."
"So I'm just the guy you come to when she leaves you?" Steve asked, blue eyes hard and morose, his brows knitting together.
"No," he responded quickly, taking a few steps closer, "she left me a couple weeks ago, but Steve you're not some rebound, you're the one that I'm in love with." The words poured out rapidly, desperately as he tried to convince Steve that this was okay. "Hell, you could be the one that I spend the rest of my life with, it's you, Steve; it's always been you." A wet breath escaped Steve's lips as the tears finally broke through the barricade he had plastered and he strode the few steps that were between him and Tony in such fluidity that Tony didn't have the chance to move forward before Steve cupped his face with his hands and pulled him forward, connecting their lips in a desperate synchronized tango that felt like heaven, a long overdue rainfall after a death biting drought. He pulled himself away slowly, hesitantly, wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders, burying his face in the crook of his neck,
"I love you," he whispered, his lips quirking at the corner with finally being able to say the words without feeling a burdening weight behind them. Tony nuzzled into his chest,
"I love you so, so much."