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He feels it physically first. A chill in his body as he wakes, like he can't quite breathe right and his heart can't quite beat right. He is missing what he needs to keep going and his mind is still too sluggish to remember what that is.He puts his hand on his chest, runs fingers across clean, scarless skin and remembers the weight and pressure of the plate that kept him alive for so long. He wishes it was so simple these days. He rolls over and places his hand on the empty space where Steve's head once lay. He feels the long gone warmth and touches the strand of golden hair that still rests on the unwashed pillowcase, and he remembers. There was a look in Steve's eyes as the memories faded. A part of Tony had expected, or hoped for, rage, but it ran deeper than that. It was a look of loss. Loss of hope, of faith, of love. He finds he envies Steve; he only had to live with that loss for thirty seconds before it all faded away. Tony had to come home to an empty bed and a future full of loneliness and lies. He turns away from Steve's pillow to face the clock blinking at him. It's just after midnight."Happy anniversary, Steve." He wonders if Steve will think of him today. Or if he ever does. If there is ever that distant background noise of something, someone missing in his life. He drifts to the glass laid out on his bedside table like water. Filled high with long warm whiskey, because he sleeps when he sleeps now, and today that had been far before the sun went down. Midnight is often his new morning and this is how he starts them. Two simple gold bands lay next to the glass, because he is self indulgent and sentimental. They never really wore them, but the promise of always was there when they slept. But always was too big of a promise to keep. He downs the whiskey because this is the only way he knows how to silence the echos of those vows. Tony doesn't miss Steve, he misses what they had. He misses having someone he could still let down. He thinks he loves and hates drinking again as much as he ever loved or hated Steve.He imagines himself standing on Steve's doorstep, bumbling through fraught apologies for sins he's long since given up on forgiving himself for. Steve would kill him for this and that's not a death he deserves. He deserves life. He deserves living with this. He gets out of bed, dresses in yesterday's clothes, grabs the rings and slips them in his pocket where he will feel them all day. He deserves to always remember what he made Steve forget.