Marvel Oneshots

Unspoken (Steve Rogers)

It was late. The kind of late where the rest of the world seemed to quiet down, leaving you alone with your thoughts. I sat on the couch in my living room, nursing a drink that wasn't strong enough to numb the ache I felt inside. The television was on, but the images blurred into a background of static noise. I wasn't watching it. I was just... staring, lost in the silence that pressed down on me.

My phone buzzed next to me, and the name that lit up the screen made my stomach churn.

Steve.

I knew why he was calling. He wanted to talk, probably about Sharon. He'd been with her for a few months now, and it seemed like she was all he ever wanted to talk about. It used to be me. I used to be the one he'd call at times like this. I used to be his person.

But now it was Sharon.

With a shaky breath, I picked up the phone. "Hey, Steve."

"Hey." His voice was warm, familiar, and it stirred something painful in my chest. "You busy?"

I swallowed, leaning my head back against the couch. "No. Just watching TV. What's up?"

There was a beat of hesitation before he spoke again. "Can I come over?"

My heart squeezed. I shouldn't say yes. I shouldn't let him come over and remind me of all the things I couldn't have, but I was weak. I was so damn weak when it came to Steve Rogers.

"Sure," I said softly, forcing a smile even though he couldn't see me. "You know you can always come over."

It didn't take long for Steve to show up. He only lived a few blocks away, and I didn't even have time to fully prepare myself before there was a knock on my door.

I opened it to find him standing there, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever, even in a simple hoodie and jeans. His hair was slightly tousled, his blue eyes soft but tired. He smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes, and I could already tell something was bothering him.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping inside as I moved to let him in.

"Hey," I echoed, trying to keep my voice steady.

He walked past me into the living room, his eyes flicking briefly to the half-empty glass of whiskey on the table. He raised an eyebrow, giving me that concerned look he always did. "Everything okay?"

I shrugged, shutting the door behind him. "Yeah, just a long day."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press. Instead, he sank down onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared down at his hands. I stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with myself. There was a tension in the air tonight, something unspoken and heavy, and I didn't know how to navigate it.

Finally, I sat down next to him, keeping a little more distance between us than usual. I didn't trust myself to be too close to him tonight.

"So," I began, breaking the silence. "What's up?"

Steve let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he muttered, his voice quieter than usual. "Just... needed to talk, I guess."

I waited, knowing there was more. He looked over at me, his expression conflicted, and I knew what was coming before he even said it.

"It's Sharon," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

There it was. The dagger to my heart.

I forced a smile, trying to ignore the way my chest tightened at the mention of her name. "What about her?"