Soft Reassurances Dialed To Twelve
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Summary
Steve can’t hear, Steve can’t think, Steve can’t breathe and none of it matters because his feet are still working and he’s running, he running and—
“Sir, you can’t be—”
Too fucking bad, because Steve can’t hear anything past what he thinks is his heartbeat, save he’s never heard his heart beat like this; like a piston, shaking, shaking, shaking and it feels like Steve imagines CPR does when compressions crack the bones except his heart’s doing it from the inside out, tearing through all the muscles and the fleshy parts between and not just cracking but shattering those motherfuckers and he’s dying, or else, maybe that’s the difference in a nutshell, at the end of the day: every time before this, it was adrenaline and terror.
This time, it’s heartbreak, and the certainty that he’ll fall over dead from that heartbreak if he’s stopped by the sight he fears most, the thing that makes the most sense but his brain can’t process it, so his heart’s taking on the extra burden: because fuck. It’s been beating like this, and his brain’s been useless like this, ever since he drove past the wreck.
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Steve sees Eddie’s van demolished on the roadside. And falls apart accordingly.