Lost Time (Romanogers One-shots)

I'm sorry

Steve POV

I don't know when I realised that I love her, but I do. I always have. My eyes grow heavier but I continue to fight, for her. I don't care whether I live or I die, but I have to be there. For her. It's always been her, it'll always be her.

The smoke grows thicker and a horrific burning fog enters my lungs, as it chokes my insides. Collapsing my body and crumbling almost everything I have left. I had nothing, and now I have everything. I could have everything. All I ever wanted was to prove that I was worth it. Worth their time. Worth their love. It's all I ever wanted. It's all I need.

I imagine what she looks like; deep, blazing red hair that portrays fire and lust, her emerald eyes that are filled with both beauty and terror, and her lips, red like blood and beautiful like cherries. Everything about her is perfect, it always has been. It always will be.

I'd do anything if it meant that she'd live. I recall to what she said last week:
"I'm nothing. I'm no-one. I don't do anything, I'm worthless." The words spill out of her mouth and I grit my teeth in anger. It pisses me off with how much she puts herself down. I know that she thinks it's the truth, but it's not. She's perfect. She is the definition of perfect. I have to let her know what everyone else feels so I tell her, "As long as you're alive, Nat, you're doing the best you can." She stares at me, a smile tugging on her lips. She laughs and punches my shoulder lightly. "Sod off, you cheesy fool," I stare at her with unbelief, she smiled. I must have done something great. "I know, I know. Language!" She laughs and I roll my eyes. She brings up the whole 'language' thing whenever she can. God, I love her. Oh, I love her. I love her!

I cough and pray that she finds someone. Not just anyone, but someone who she loves. Someone who sees her for who she is. Someone who loves her. Someone like me.

The smoke gets more intense and I start to realise my biggest regret: not letting myself love Natasha. My Natasha. Fire stings my eyes and I blink away the tears that start to form, I have to be strong. I have to get through this, I need to see Natasha again. My thoughts spin into a spiral of doubt and hate, not for her, never for her. I hate myself for not telling her. I hate myself for not kissing her back that day when we were on that escalator. I hate myself for not being with her right now, kissing her, right now.

My com crackles and a feeling of happiness, hope, flow through me. I might survive. I might be able to tell her. I might spend the rest of my days with her.

I might.

I hear some words about stupidity and being an idiot or something. And then I hear her, I focus on her. I allow myself to let her talk, to listen. "Stay there. Don't do it, please. Just don't." I know that Nat is referring to me dying and I don't want to. I want to live, but I can't. "Steve,please!" I can picture her eyes, her plea for my life. "I love you Steve, I love you," tears well in my eyes yet I'm happy. I love her, and she loves me back. That's when I knew it: that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with this person. But I can't, I won't be able to. I choke out my words, "I'm sorry". The screaming gets quieter and my world begins to spin. The darkness takes over.

Okay, fighter jets. I know, a bit dark. They just realised their feelings and now they can't live together, forever. I promise, the next one will be happier.

Spitfire out! Pew, pew 🛩