Steve couldn't have let go of Rogue even if the building started toppling down around them. He couldn't stop crying, and it felt as if he were releasing 70 years' worth of sadness and frustration, all at once. He was finally properly mourning what he'd lost, because now he finally knew, thanks to Rogue, what he might have been able to have with Peggy. Before, it had only been romantic, wishful thinking and fantasies... and while he and Rogue had fallen quickly into this relationship, and it was still so very new, it was still more real than anything he'd experienced before.

He didn't even try to understand how he could be so thankful for this thing with Rogue, and still so painfully broken up over what he could've had with Peggy. He just let the feelings wash over him, released in a torrent of tears and harsh, broken sobs, muffled against the now-damp material of Rogue's shirt.

Finally, the tears began to dry up, and Steve sniffed, pulling back to wipe his finger under his nose. "Your food's gonna get ruined," he finally said. As first words of explanation went, they did absolutely nothing but postpone the inevitable. And that wasn't what he was trying to do; he wanted to explain this to Rogue. But it was also ingrained in him to never waste food, and he wanted her to eat. Frankly, after all that crying, plus his run earlier, he really needed to eat, too. His head was beginning a gentle throb from the crying, and he knew low blood sugar was exacerbating it.