tony stark whump

"must have been the wind."

tony is in an abusive relationship, and steve isn't okay with it

set before iron man; no powers, steve is a regular person but still ripped

tw: abuse

~NO POV~

Steve lived in a shitty apartment. He had neighbours screaming or.. doing other things, way too loudly all the time. He learned to mind his business, learned to just live with it. He was working as hard as he could to leave the apartment and get a better place to stay.

He was all for helping people, though. So maybe, if things got bad enough, he'd try helping. But this was New York and most people hated nosy neighbours.

So for a while, he ignored his neighbours. 

One night, he came home late. It was two in the morning, he was tired and all he wanted to do was sleep. But then he heard a glass shatter on the wall of the apartment above his, and at first he thought he was dreaming.

But then he heard the voice of a guy and it sounded like he'd been crying. Now he was too worried to be sleeping.

So he took the elevator to the second floor, walked down the hall and knocked upon the door. A brunet opened up, and Steve asked about the things he'd been hearing.

"I think your ears are playing tricks on you." Sweater zipped up to his chin. "Thanks for caring, sir, that's nice of you, but I have to go back in."

Steve wanted to say something, to ask him what was really wrong, but he couldn't.

"Wish I could tell you 'bout the noise but I didn't hear a thing."

The smile on his face was way too fake. There were footsteps behind him, but no one was there.

"Are you sure?"

He said, "It must have been the wind."

"Must have been the wind?"

"Must have been the wind."

Must not have been the wind.

The night after, Steve was laying on the floor of his room, cold concrete on his back. No, he just couldn't shake the feeling. He couldn't intrude cause he knew he didn't have all the facts, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving him.

The fake smile, the timid voice, the messed up hair that looked like someone had pulled on it, hard. The sweater zipped up so far that surely there was a bruise beneath it. The small cut on the brunet's face, the trembling of his hands.

There was something so terribly wrong, and Steve couldn't shake the feeling.

So, when he heard the shouting again two days later, he took the elevator to the second floor, walked down the hall and knocked upon the door. The brunet opened up, and Steve asked about the things he'd been hearing.

"If you're not safe, say it was the wind." He whispered.

"I think your ears are playing tricks on you." Sweater zipped up to his chin. "Thanks for caring, sir, that's nice of you but I have to go back in."

Steve waited for him to say it, staring at the bruise on his left cheek.

"Wish I could tell you 'bout the noise, but I didn't hear a thing."

Steve wanted the brunet to say it so badly because that meant he had the okay to help, in whatever way he could. He'd find out how.

He said, "It must have been the wind."