The alcohol burned his throat on its way down, foaming in the glass cup that was glued to Tony’s right hand. It was empty again. Tony fumbled around, too tired to open his sore, red eyes, for the bottle. He winced as his arm sent the bottle flying onto the sticky floor around him, shattering loudly. He groaned and leaned his head against the front of his desk. It was cold against his feverish skin, sweating with the effort of staying awake and perspiration from the drinks takings it’s toll.
Tony felt incredibly dizzy. His head was pounding, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or every thought running rapid in his mind. He’d drank until his face was fuzzy and he couldn’t stand, yet his brain buzzed with activity, yelling everything at him at once.
Tony couldn’t tell if the hot trail running down his cheek was sweat or tears, and he didn’t care. His hand managed to find another bottle, narrowly avoiding the broke glass littered around him, and he groped it tightly. With a sigh, he scrunched his eyes and took a long swig, choking on it. His head burnt in pain, his stomach threatening to explode violently. Tony barely registered leaning over and emptying his stomach all over the floor and himself, before taking another drink.
~
Tony couldn’t remember a day in the last two weeks he hadn’t woken up feeling like utter shit, surrounded by empty bottles and vomit. He was still on the floor, being shone on by the heavy sun beating through the windows. He laid there until he found the strength to stand, wobbling and dizzy, before managing to find his way to the shower. He distracted himself with his projects until night fell and he was once again in silence, and he found the bottle again.
Tonight, though, was different. Tony was staring at the phone in his hand, vibrating and casting a strong light against his sore eyes. Steve’s name was etched at the top, above a nice picture Tony had taken of him months ago. He let it ring, and watched as the phone went dark and the vibrating stopped.
Tony cried.
~
Tony couldn’t stop the thoughts. He was in the shower, laying down. The water was spraying his face harshly, his back hurting from the hard bottom of the tub. He could hear his heavy breathing, his chesty coughing. He felt absolutely sick. He knew he had overdone it this time, and he needed help. He wouldn’t die - he didn’t think so, anyway. Did he want to die? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was the thoughts weren’t stopping.
Steve. Steve fucking Rogers. Tony had idolized the man his entire childhood, and he was now his enemy. Tony coughed chestily at the thought and groaned. He’d imagined meeting his hero ever since he was a kid, and when he finally did - he blew it. He didn’t know what Steve truly thought of him, Tony wasn’t sure Steve hated anybody - he was too nice for that.
Tony hated himself right now. Maybe for a long time. Tony didn’t want to feel the feeling, the one he’d kept hidden for years. The yearning. The ache. The want. The absolute need to feel Steve Rogers touch.
Tony closed his eyes and focused on the heavy splattering of the water on his body. It was hot, a little too hot. It hurt, just a little bit. It was wonderful.
~
Tony almost wept at the sight of him. Embarrassment, shame, and hurt filled his body and he couldn’t move. His back was stiff against the floor, sticky from the long dried spilled alcohol. His head pounded and his eyes were blurry.
He could still see Steve, though. He could see his twisted face as he stared down at him, his eyes roaming the empty bottles around them. His lips strewn into a frown. Tony’s own lips quivered, and he had to close his eyes to prevent them from spilling.
“Tony... “
It was honey to his ears. For only a moment, Tony’s chest felt light at the sound of Steve. But it vanished so quickly, and replaced itself with a crushing heaviness. Blackness threatened his consciousness, and Tony allowed himself to slip, if only to escape Steve’s stare.
~
It was warm where he was. Soft. It was his bed, he knew from the satin sheets. It was still night, perhaps approaching morning from the dimly lit sky. Tony rolled over, ignoring the sting in his back, and cracked open his eyes.
Steve was sitting there. Staring at him. His face was blank, his eyes searching Tony’s. The silence was deafening. Tony opened his mouth and talked for the first time in a while.
“I love you.”
Steve paused, and breathed out.
“I know.”
Tony felt his chest tighten, and his eyes prickle. He felt stupid for expecting anything other than that, but it still stung his heart. Steve bit his lip, and reached out slowly.
Tony’s breath hitched as Steve gently stroked Tony’s greasy hair out of his forehead.
“You have to get better first,” Steve whispered, tracing his thumb along Tony’s cheek. “Then, maybe we can ...” he trailed off, giving Tony a slight, soft grin.
Tony hiccuped, jumping at the suddenness. Steve grinned fully now, laughing quietly. Tony felt his lips pull him into a smile for the first time in
weeks, and leaned into Steve’s hand.
“I love you,” he whispered.
He feel asleep again.