#excerpts*

[starkrogerrs]

(forget me not);

steve adjusts the cap atop his head, and shuffles ahead in the line. he's going to buy a ticket for himself- for a new movie he's heard that is 'thrilling and a masterpiece' and also because it would help to watch something mindlessly.

there's a lady standing in front of him, and she smiles at him apologettically when she steps on his foot. she turns and then glances back almost immediately, batting her eyes at him. steve smiles politely and looks away. he definitely isn't interested.

warm, gentle brown eyes that shimmer golden stare back at him when he closes his eyes; even for a split second, but they're there, as clear as day, as if he'd just seen them before he'd closed his eyes.

the queue moves again and it is finally steve's turn.

"one for 'forget me not', please," steve says and the person behind the counter smiles before keying something into the computer.

steve hands in the cash in exchange for the ticket and ambles along the aisle, towards the screen that's mentioned on the piece of paper in his hand.

there's a couple leaning against a poster in the far corner of the aisle. the boy has his arms wrapped around the girl and a smile stretches at his lips. they couldn't be older than twenty.

a pang resonates through his body, and the brown eyes flash before his own again. he wonders if perhaps someday, he'd held the person who's eyes he so vividly remembers, in his arms like that. a sigh escapes his lips and he has to suppress a sob.

it's dark inside the theater and he has to squint to see the numbers on the seats, before his eyes finally adjust and he finds the one written on his ticket.

the movie really is beautiful; stunning direction and a story that stirs something inside steve that lingers in his mind until and after he steps out of the theater.

and then he spots him- a weary man leaning against a moderately expensive car, smoking a cigar. the smoke swirls in the air, mixing with the snow and turning it grey.

by some unexplained force, he finds himself making his way to the man, drawing his coat closer around himself. the snow is starting to freeze his nose and lips.

he stops in tracks, about five feet away from the man, overcome by a very powerful feeling- could it be?- the thought sends a shockwave that leaves his spine tingling.

it couldn't be.

he doesn't have to wait long for an answer.

the man spots him as well, and the cigars drops from his mouth. he tumbles forward, as if his legs are giving way under him and steve catches him, holding him up by his arms.

the man glances up, mouth hanging open.

those same brown eyes- eyes that have been part of every waking moment of steve's life stare back at him. they seem dimmer, less warm, amiss.

"d-do i know you?" steve whispers, even though he already has an inkling of an answer. a single memory, of the man smiling down at him, warm and gentle as ever pans through his blank mind.

the man fumbles again, as if the question had punched him in his gut. he gathers himself finally, and looks back at steve again. a hint of tears gleams at the corner of his eyes. something tells steve that this man doesn't cry often and he feels an overwhelming need to punch something.

"it's me, steve," the man says, tone soft but pained, as if every word hurts to voice.

"tony. your tony. the love of your life."

- excerpt from a story i will never write

[pemberelys-blog]

be a shooting star: a brief yet welcome flicker of hope that dances across the night sky, like an anchor for all those drowning in the abyss.

aoife k. | notes to self

[starkrogerrs]

steve doesn't like the feeling that's burning wild and bright inside of him as he looks on at tony.

tony, who is sitting beside someone that isn't him, holding a hand that isn't his.

he beams as tony catches him looking over— the pain threatening to burst around the edges of his tight lipped smile.

"you're really in deep, aren't ya, stevie?" bucky asks, as he watches tony and pepper walk out the door, arms looped and bright grins on their faces.

"yeah," steve answers, watching the couple until they walk out of sight. he turns to bucky, who's looking at him sympathetically and he hates it.

"why can't you just talk to him?"

there's a tony-shaped hole in his heart, his throat burns every time tony smiles at him, he hates it when pepper kisses tony goodnight, it tears him apart to have tony but not have him at all and inspite of all that exists and is true, he will never stop loving tony.

why can't you just talk to him?

steve shakes his head.

"because, you don't know what it's like to watch your best friend go through literal hell; you don't know what it's like to watch them find someone, who isn't you, that will heal every one of those open wounds; to watch them piece themself together, which is all you ever wanted— for them to be okay again but in the end, it's not because of you. because you don't know what it's like to burn every time they touch you; for you to feel a million things all at once and for them, to feel nothing at all. because inspite of everything, even if it hurts like hell, you will yourself to be happy. for them. because you could never do that to them. never.

"— I can't just talk to him bucky, because you don't know what it's like to give your all to that person; to watch them take all of that and give it to someone else, while all you can do is wear a smile on your face and pretend that everything's okay."

- excerpts from a story i will never write

[starkrogerrs]

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

[starkrogerrs]

tony doesn't care if he jumps the red light as he races over sixty, pressing his foot on the accelerator.

it's raining heavily, the road in front of him a blur though the wet glass. he turns down the road he knows all too well, his heart beating a staccato rhythm. the half-empty budweiser clinks in the cup holder beside him as he makes another sharp turn. he comes to a screeching halt before the miniscule country house— the days he spent in it rushing back to him.

he sits in the car, white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel.

he remembers the first time he met steve.

the night had been dark and wild, much like the crowd inside the club. he was swaying to some 90's groove that was blaring through the speakers, as natasha, carol and rhodey danced by his side. he was slightly tipsy, as were the others and he wouldn't admit it, but he was having the time of his life. he'd excused himself to grab more drinks then, mouth parched from all the movement. there, near the beer cooler, had been steve, standing in all his blue eyes and black jeans glory, smoking a cigarette. he'd smiled at him and tony had all but forgotten how to breathe.

steve had kissed him that night. he had tasted like strawberries and cigarettes and tony— tony was addicted. they'd locked themselves inside his car and steve had pulled tony close and kissed him till both their lips were bleeding. he could never forget the warmth that burned through him at his touch.

remorse and regret rocks through him as he gazes at the house. he had everything when he had steve and then— he had gone and ruined it all.

he feels his vision blur, tears finding their way to the corner of his eyes. get it together, tony, he chides himself but in vain. he catches his reflection in the rearview mirror and isn't surprised to see the mess of a person that stares back at him.

he remembers leaping over the fence of his mansion in the dead of the night, adrenaline coursing through his veins. he'd thrown himself at steve, as the latter caught him, laughter tumbling out of their lips. they'd snuck off into the woods, hands gripping each other tight— a silent promise that they'd never let go.

rain drops still hammer the hood of his car, as he watches steve step out onto the front porch. watching him, as he locks the door behind him, feels like being punched in the gut. how had it come to this? he knows exactly how but fuck, he wishes he could turn it all around. his heart beats a dull echo inside his chest.

he looks on as steve opens an umbrella and hoists it above him, before stepping onto the grass and out the front gate. he doesn't glance at his car; he has no reason to because they're broken beyond repair. and well, because steve doesn't know it's him and his car, he chuckles to himself mirthlessly.

he wants to walk right upto him and tell him everything; tell steve that there's nobody he will ever love as much as he loves him, tell him that steve is the best thing that ever happened to him, tell him that his heart is still drumming his name against his chest.

he remembers the fights that had started seemingly born out of nothing, in hindsight and how it had slowly but steadily pushed them apart, until one day it had erupted hot and bright and burned everything to ashes.

tony twists the car key and the engine whirs to life. he pulls onto the route opposite to the one steve is currently walking on, umbrella still in hand.

he is moving to another town tomorrow and probably this is the last time he will ever see steve. he watches steve shrink into the distance as they part, yet again. he doesn't know why he'd come here, he hadn't hoped he'd get to talk to steve again. maybe some part of him had wanted to say goodbye. the wretched tears are falling down his face now and he makes no effort to wipe them.

maybe some part of him will never be able to say goodbye.

he wonders if steve ever thinks about him, wonders if he remembers their 3 a.m conversations and their stupid promises of a forever. a forever that tony had gone and ripped apart with his own hands. he wonders if steve has moved on and found someone else.

as he pulls onto the main road and brings the budweiser to his lips again, he wonders is steve still tastes like strawberries and cigarettes.

- excerpts from a story i'll never write

[hatsumeme]

We just started watching The Great Gatsby because end of the year and no real motivation to read the books, but I kind wish we did because... Gay™