"So, have you talked to him?"

You let out a deep sigh, continuing to fold your laundry. It has been nearly three months since you left Steve in Europe. You think of him everyday, but it seems like the feeling isn't mutual. No texts. No calls. Hell, no letters.

"Not yet." You reply, gently stacking the folded shirt onto the pile.

"Maybe you should call him. I think--"

"Mom, I'm not going to call him." You cut off, glaring up at her. "I told him what I was doing. He knows that I'm with you and Dad. I shouldn't have to be the one chasing him down."

She walks to you, sitting beside you on the floor. She begins folding with you, keeping her eyes on her work. "I just think that's he's scared, that's all."

You stop and stare at her. "Scared of what? Steve is a literal super soldier."

"Scared of rejection." She says, ignoring your stare. "After all, if he comes back here, what's he going to do? He isn't exactly going to be welcomed by people in high authority. Kinda hard to make friends when you take down S.H.I.E.L.D and then ignore a piece of paper signed by leaders worldwide."

"What he's doing in Europe isn't exactly legal either."

"Maybe he's scared of you." She presses, finishing off the last of the pile. She leans back, studying you.

"Me?" You scoff, arching your eyebrow. You lightly laugh and shake your head. "I'm the least scary person he has to deal with. I can't throw a punch to save my life and I can't shoot worth anything."

"Maybe that's what scares him. You've got this hold on him and he can't punch his way through it. So, instead, he ignores it and hopes it'll work itself out."

You furrow your eyebrows and slightly pout. "That's stupid."

"That's men."

Suddenly, screams begin to fill the air. You share a glance with your mom before rushing out the door. People are screaming in the street, calling out people's names. "What's happening?" You ask, looking at your mom.

"I don't know." She shakes her head, looking around.

"(Y/N)."

You turn around, watching your dad crumble into a million pieces. Like a pile of dust, he floats to the ground, resting where he was just standing not even a second again.

"Dad?" You ask, cautiously moving to the spot. "Dad?" You call out louder.

You reach out, your trembling hands touching the debris that now took his place. Tears are pooling in your eyes as the shock settles in. Your mom grabs your shoulder, calling out his name in pain.

Wails fill the air.

Mothers are mourning for the children.

Children are sobbing for their parents.

Whatever has happened made sure to hurt everyone.

xxx

You sit in your favorite chair, watching the news recap of what has happened less than 2 days ago. It's past midnight, but you don't plan on going to bed anytime soon. You can't sleep anyways. The scene of your father drifting away in the wind like dust causes you enough grieve in daylight. You hate it even more at night though.

Your mom has somehow found a way to sleep. She's laying on the couch beside you, her face furrowed in pain. You and her are lucky to only lose your father. So many other people lost many members of their family. There are so many children without parents to comfort them and people don't know what to do with them.

A soft knock at the door brings you out of your downhill spiral of devastating news. You rise from your chair, draping your blanket over your broken-hearted mother. You cautiously open the door, gasping.

You look into the blue eyes you have been so longing for. But instead of seeing the joy and comfort you usually find, you discover the pain you've been seeing the past few days. "Thank God you're alright." He whispers.

"Steve." You softly say.

He quickly pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around you. Almost instantly, you feel tears pricking in your eyes as he hugs you tight against him. His hand runs down your hair as you hide your face in his chest. "I didn't know if it got you too. I was so worried that I rushed here as fast as possible. I had to make sure it didn't take you. I don't know what I would have done if it had."

You pull away, frowning. "It's taken so many people. So many children. So many loved ones." You say, trying to hold everything in. "It took my dad right in front of me."

"I'm so sorry." He says, cupping your cheek. "It's fault. It's all my fault." He says, shaking his head.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to study his face. "Your fault? How?"

He lets out a painful sigh. You watch him blink back tears, clearly trying to keep himself composed in front of you. "I lost." He confesses. "I lost to him."

"To who? Steve, what are you talking about?" You ask, taking a step back. What had he done since you left?

"If I had fought harder against him, I could have stopped him. I could have stopped all of this." He continues rambling, not notice the tears cutting tracks down his cheeks. You want to know more, but you can see how much this hurts him. You can't stand seeing him cry, especially like this.

"Steve, you're not making sense." You say, shaking your head. "Come inside. We'll talk in here." You say, grabbing his hand. You led him to your bedroom so you don't disturb your mom from her sleep. You know this is the most she's gotten since the event.

You leave to make him a cup of coffee, and when you return, you see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his face covered with his hands. He's basically radiating whatever pain he's feeling. The way his shoulders are hunched and the mess of his hair make you feel uneasy.

"I think this might make you feel better." You say, sitting beside him. He takes the cup from your hands without much words. You know you should be mad at him. Three months of no contact yet he showed up at your door and you just let him. No apologies and you just let him walk all over you.

But you can't help but to want to help him. You know he's hurting and you want to be the one to comfort him. Tell him it'll all be okay. Run your hands through his hair and gently hold him. You love him after all.

But he let you leave. He chose doing whatever secret work in Europe over you.

"I should be comforting you." He says, bringing you from your thoughts. "Not giving myself a pity party like the past few months."

You bite your lower lip, not sure what to say. He's right, but you don't want to be the one to say it.

"I was selfish, (Y/N). I knew you were hurting and yet I stayed in Europe doing those stupid missions. I should have followed you back here." Steve says, shaking his head. "It seems like I can't get anything right anymore. Every move I make is wrong. Everything is my fault. I should have told Tony about his parents. I should have took my punishment instead of making us fugitives. I should have stayed with you."

You stay silent, watching him.

He looks over, his blue eyes cutting to you. "God, I'm sorry." He softly says. "I'm giving you excuses and making you listen to another pity party. I should be comforting you right now. Not the other way around."

You close your eyes, dropping your head. "Three months of no contact, Steve." You say. You rise from your spot, beginning to pace around the room. "Did you think of me at all? Am I just some side piece you come to when you want comfort? Am I just your personal therapist? Is that all I am to you?"

"No, (Y/N). No, I've been thinking about you nonstop. You're always in my mind." He argues, rising from the bed. He sets the coffee cup on your bedside table.

"You never even texted me. Or called me." You sigh. "Not even a fucking letter, Steve." You growl, trying to hold back tears.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He says, touching your hair.

"Well, you did." You say, pushing him off. "I felt stupid. I felt unneeded. I sat here, waiting for something. A sign that you still thought of me. I had this hope that you would come back and give me some stupid cheesy apology and that I would fall for it and love you anyways."

He's quiet, his eyes softly looking you over. "You hate cheesy." He quietly says.

Though you know he's being dead serious, the comment brings a laugh out of you. "I know." You smile. You feel tears pooling in your eyes. "But I love you so much. I would have taken cheesy."

You frown, looking at your hands. "But I don't know anymore. It seems like you only want me when you are hurting. I wasn't necessary until now because you screwed up--whatever you screwed up." You stutter, gesturing to him.

"That's not true at all." He says, stepping forward again. His hand holds your elbow, his head tilted down to look at you. "I wanted to give you space. I didn't want to push you away by constantly bugging you. You told me you needed space. I didn't want to over step."

"You at least sent Tony a letter saying why you weren't coming back. I didn't even get that."

His hand snatches your wrist, making your eyes fly to his. "Because I knew I could risk losing Tony. Of course, I consider him a teammate, ally, friend even." He explains, his face contouring. "But I could find a way to move on without him if he chose to ignore me. If I was to send you a letter and know that I overstepped and you hated me, I don't know what I'd do. I need you, (Y/N). I thought about you nonstop when I was in Europe, scared shitless that I wasn't the man you loved anymore."

Instead of replying back, you fall into his arms. You shove your face into the crook of his neck, tears spilling out. Soft sobs escape you as his scent fills your nose. God, how you've missed him.

"I love you so much." He whispers in your ear.

"I love you, too." You reply back. You take a few minutes to calm yourself down in his arms. Once you feel that you've cried yourself out, you loosen your grip and look at his face. "I know this is off topic, but what were you saying at the door?"

"The door?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing over his bloodshot eyes. He looks just as a mess as you are. Now that you're close to him, you notice the bruises on his face. You spot the scar clearing up on his jaw.

You brush his blonde hair from his forehead. He gently closes his eyes for a second, letting you trail your hand down his face, studying him. "You said this was all your fault, but I don't believe you." You quietly say.

His eyes shoot open. "It is." He insists. "I don't know how it isn't."

You frown. Steve has also been known to be a bit dramatic. "Start at the beginning? Then I can be the judge." You say.

He takes a deep breath, slightly flicking from the pain. Though he's a super soldier, some of his wounds don't heal as quickly as others, especially if battles were tougher than usual. "Thanos." He says. "It starts with him."

~~~~~~~~~~~
Soooooo this is kind of a crappy ending to this and really long but I wanted to connect this part with Thanos and such

Still hope you enjoyed tho!