steve could have smoked a joint right about now.
the song is too loud, the words too crass, the people too jumpy. he wants the world to slow down around him because his heart feels like it can't keep up. he can hear people move in and around him, their voices suddenly deafening and then— static.
he knows tony is somewhere in the crowd. knows someone is dancing with him. knows they are standing close enough to feel each other. knows all they care about is the other.
he moves through the crowd, trying to drown the ringing in his ears. someone grabs his hand and he doesn't even bother looking at them because— fuck you, he gruffs. he doesn't care if he isn't being himself right now— he isn't. he fucking isn't.
"hey, handsome," someone calls to his left and although his vision is slightly hazy he can see that it's someone beautiful, they've got glitter on their face but steve can not. not right now. "no," he slurs, throwing himself on the empty red couch by the bar and fuck the music feels too fucking loud.
he orders one bottle to go, throwing a wad of cash at the bartender who mutters something that falls deaf on his ears.
he takes a moment to stand up, because his head won't stop spinning in the way that makes him want to throw up.
tony's lips are on his and God he feels on fucking fire. he tastes like beer and the smoke of marijuana he's just inhaled and steve can feel it pump up his brain.
steve shakes his head trying to burn the image from his mind as he stumbles through the crowd again, sipping the bottle as he goes.
his phone vibrates in his backpocket and he doesn't even read the caller id, stumbling out of the hell he wishes he never went to.
"steve? where are you?" bucky's voice rings loud and clear and fuck— he feels like he's gonna fall right here.
he mumbles something incoherent that's lost in the static between them. it's silent for a moment as he looks onto the street in front of him— all red reflections on muddy water.
"steve, you okay?" he hears bucky whisper and he can hear the worry in his voice— he didn't want to trouble him he really really didn't.
and then the tears come, spilling faster as the bubble in his chest rises, threatening to suffocate him. he feels someone's hand on his shoulder— tony? of fucking course not. it's not bucky, it's some stranger asking if he's alright and— no he's not. he's not.
the bottle's empty in his hand, he notices and leaves it on the bench he had been sitting on (?) and stumbles to the lampost that dimly glows amber.
his chest is screaming, it feels tight and suffocating as the tears continue to spill and fuck. fuck, he can hear people surround him. he wipes his face on the sleeve of his shirt and wriggles away from the hands that want to help him and — bucky's there.
"what the fuck?" he hears him whisper as steve slumps against him, throat burning like he's just downed acid.
"steve what happened?"
yeah, what the fuck happened.
steve only buries his face in bucky's chest because how the fuck are you supposed to explain the greatest fuck up of your life?
how are you supposed to explain that you fucking fell in love with someone?
"you're a fucking liar. leave."
how are you supposed to explain you fell in love with someone who wants nothing to do with you?
- excerpt from a story i'll never write
