It wasn't Steve's intention to drive Tony out of his room. He just wanted some time to think alone. But it wasn't fair what he did. He could've done it in a more, nice and subtle way. But no. What's done is done.

He was scared. Okay, there he said it. A soldier—physically and morally invincible—admitted that he was scared. Scared of Tony's reply. Scared of what Tony would say.

"Tony?"

No reply. He waited. Maybe he didn't hear him well. Breathe. He thought. Try again.

"Tony, please."

Still no reply.

"Tony." He firmly said and laid a hand on the said man's shoulder. Tony flinched in reply. He flinched.

Funny how in that simple action, Steve regretted everything. Tony isn't ready for this conversation yet.

"It's okay." He whispered.

"What?"

"It's okay if you don't want to—we could continue doing this some—"

"Steve, no. Wait."

"If it's for the best, then I—"

"Steve, I was just thinking. Don't—"

He looked straight in Tony's eyes. Tony shut up. Please. He wanted to say. Let me talk. You are not ready. "If you are better off ignoring me then so be it. If it's better that way, if it's better for the both of us, then it's perfectly fine with me." Just do what's best you think is for the both of us. You are the genius, after all.

"Is it, Steve? Is it really fine?" The soldier smiled. Really Tony? He thought. Are you playing this game again? If too can play it that game.

"Yes, I'm still here, aren't I? The question is: is it for you, Tony?" I'm trying to be serious here, Tony. And here you are, making it all worse.

Does it look like its fine, Tony? He wanted to say. Does it look like we're fine, Tony? I wanted us to be okay again. But you're not yet okay. Because, if you were ready for this, you'd say "Okay. Yeah, sure. Let's do that." But you didn't. You had to think about it. No scientist needs to tell me that we can't talk yet—that you still need more time away from me.

And so it's not fine, Tony. I'm hurt, you're hurt. We can't keep continuing this mutual-hurt relationship. We can try again but we'll only get hurt. We can improve this relationship, but how? God, why do you make everything so difficult?

Oh god. He just realized.

No.

He needs Tony out now.

Steve stood up and gestured the scientist to his door to leave. And Tony, weirdly enough, left the captain's room without a single word.

And he was wondering whether he should be worried for that action but he needs his own thoughts to settle too.

Okay, Rogers. Breathe. The soldier thought as soon as Tony had left his room. He closed his door, locked it and flew to his bed.

Imagine.

Imagine, if he said that out loud. Imagine if he really shouted at Tony: "Why do you make everything so difficult?"

Then they would never ever talk.

Then they would never ever look at each other in the eye again.

It wasn't Tony who was wrong.

Steve winced and buried his face deep in his pillow. It was also Steve. Steve was also wrong.

He was a factor; they were both factors contributing to everything.

They were two opposite poles on a magnet, two conflicting beliefs and two just whole entirely different people.

No wonder.

The soldier turned his head and shut his eyes, trying as hell hard to fight back the tears. Why had Steve only seen this now? Was he that stupid?

He was blaming everything on Tony—he had a share too. They were both human, they make mistakes—

He wanted to say sorry, to apologize. To run to Tony's room and wrap his arms around him and mutter infinite words of apologies to his ear.

But that would only be just the boldest.

He just kicked Tony out of his room—in the cruellest, most insincere way he could ever think of doing.

He grunted.

Time. He slightly nodded.

Time. He'll give Tony time.

And then maybe they'll talk again.

But that's what he said a month ago.

And look at them now.

Should they still talk—

"Ugh." Steve growled on his pillow. Its all going in circles.