Steve never threw the first punch.
"Oh, Rogers, haven't you heard? Weren't you there? Didn't you know the headmaster was looking for you? Apparently the hospital sent someone 'round here. They had bad news to deliver, I could tell. Bad news for Rogers. Wonder what it could have been? You don't know anyone in the hospital, do you? Someone who might have gotten worse? Someone who's probably dead now?"
Broken pencil, abandoned paper, forgotten coat.
Shouts unheeded, door left open, shoes on wet pavement.
Driving wind, blinding rain, echoing thunder.
"Come on, Rogers. It was just a joke. Can't a fellow tell a joke now and again?"
Long road, winding road, endless road.
Gasped breath, bent double, coughing fit.
One name, call the doctor, please wait.
"Only a joke, Rogers."
She's here. She's fine. She's alright.
Heart beating, lungs breathing, hands holding.
Nothing's happened, nothing's wrong, nothing to be scared of.
"Just a joke."
Fist flown, punch thrown, temper blown.
Blood rushing, stains on shirt, red and brown.
Larger hands, bigger hands, separating hands.
"Rogers started it! He hit me first!"
Steve never throws the first punch-except the one time he did.
(If that was too confusing, let me know and I'll clarify what happened.)