goingforwards:

It’s always seemed cruel, to Steve: the fact they’d only know someone was their soulmate at the very last second, if at all. 

He grows up with ‘I love you, Steve’ in short, scrawled letters under his ribs, content with the knowledge that at least his soulmate will love him. He’s content with it right up until Tony is gasping over blood in his arms, body jerking as his lifeblood leaves him, almost as scared as Steve.

His gauntleted hand scrabbled weakly for Steve’s, and Steve squeezes it hard enough to dent the amour. “Hey, no, don’t do that,” Steve says shakily, as Tony tries to speak. “Save your strength, come on, help will be here soon.”

Tony’s mouth moves sloppily, eyes sluggish as they blink once, twice, and blood pumps out his body steadily as Steve desperately tries to hold Tony’s stomach closed.

Tony’s lips form Steve’s name, and as Steve’s shushing him, Tony slurs, “I love you, Steve,” and Steve looks at the man dying in his arms and understands in the span of a heartbeat.

Oh, god.

“Please,” Steve hears himself say, saying the words that have always curled down Tony’s spine, the words Steve has kissed more times than he can count. They taste like bile now that they’re coming out his mouth.

“Tony, keep your eyes open,” he begs, even though he knows it won’t make a difference, that this has been set and can’t be changed, that Steve couldn’t say anything else if he wanted to, and god, he wants to.

“Please don’t leave me,” Steve says, half-sobbing it, and Tony takes a deep, shuddering breath and stills.