Total Systems Failure {Steve x Tony}

This Place

Blink.

Breathe in.

Blink.

Breathe out.

Blink.

Breathe in.

Drink.

Breathe out.

Repetition. Recognition.

Recognition of what? Of the little clear orbs that burst upon contact with his skin. It's wet.

Wipe it off. Blink. It's wet. It's blurred. The screen is blurred. Blink.

That number has been there too long. His thumb has hesitated too long. It hovered over the call button. Was that the call button? It's blurred. Blink.

Yeah, that's the call button. A gentle rattling sound comforts him, the sound of ice against his cold glass. The glass was small, but enough. His head leans back, his eyes close. He finishes the alcohol and then looks at it in disappointment. It's empty. Sweat drips down the sides of the glass. It's sad. Why is it sad? It's empty.

A clink as the glass is set next to him. It's dark. He feels alone. He is alone. That's okay. The familiar glow of the screen keeps him company. His lips purse. Blink. The screen becomes clear again.

His heart aches. It's a terrible, torturous pain. His brain throbs. He closes his eyes. His brows scrunch. He's trying to remember the last time he felt this much suffering, but he knows he hasn't. Not even the shrapnel in his chest could cause this much agony. Not even when he was dying of blood poisoning. Not even when that beautifully crafted vibranium shield made contact with his arc reactor.

The screen is blurred again when he opens his eyes. Blink. Blink. Blink. Sniffling.

His hand is over his mouth, quiet sobs breaking the silence before he breathes in deep.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He calms himself, but his hands are shaking.

He wants to say 'Pull yourself together, Stark' but he can't. If he speaks, he knows his voice will break. If his voice breaks, then so will he. He looks at the bright screen, whose light is competing with the dim one of his reactor. Blink. Swallow. He's a mess. He needs to hear him; he needs him to speak to him, to tell him that everything is okay, that it was all a big misunderstanding and that Mr. Tony Stark had been right all along.

His lips quiver. He breaths.

Breath in.

Breathe out.

He stares at the screen. His thumb presses the green phone button. This flip phone is way older than what he was used to, but it was the only thing keeping him held this much together. He stares at the screen as the numbers start to count how long the call is. He hears the first ring. He blinks.

Breathe in.

He brings the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. And ring. And-

"Hello?"

He chokes. His brows knit together further. His hand tightens around the phone. His lips part.

"Hello? ...Tony?"

The world is frozen. It's not moving. Time has stopped. His brain throbs. His heart aches. He's frozen too. His eyes stare out at the familiar floor of his bedroom. His back is rigid against the wall he's sitting against.

"Hello? Tony, are you there?"

The phone moves away from his ear.

"Ton-"

Click.

He flips the phone shut. The call is ended. The voice is gone.

His lips are still parted. His knuckles are white, his grip strong around the phone. His vision is blurred.

Blink.

Sob.

His hand is over his mouth again, and his body starts to curl around itself. His shoulders start to shake. His other hand is gripping the phone just over his heart, willing the pain to cease. His voice cracks in his throat. He lets out a long whine that slowly develops into an agonizing cry. He wants to scream. His voice gets caught. Misery catches him in her cold claws.

One hand moves and sweeps across the floor, knocking a half-empty bottle of whiskey away. He grabs it. His head tilts back. All is silent again.

Swallow.

Forget about the phone.

Swallow.

Forget about the pain.

Swallow.

Forget about the fight.

Swallow.

Forget about Steve.