#different universes

The heavy sound of the torrent above you mixes with the urgent Clop! Clop! Clop! of your boots carrying you home as fast as you could manage. You don't have an umbrella, only a jacket that you're holding above you to ward off at least some of the fierce patter of the rain. As if your day hasn't been terrible enough.

You almost cry in relief when you see your apartment building nearing. You couldn't care less about the drops you send flying everywhere as you dash up the staircase, fumbling along the way to retrieve your keys from the depths of your pocket.

The huge noise inside and outside your head comes to a sudden stop the moment you shut the door behind you, sending you into a daze for a few seconds. As you toe off said boots, you notice the light in the kitchen. Next thing you register is a low and deep voice humming a tune. You smile, despite everything you just braved throughout the day. You know who it is, and instead of heading to your bedroom, you make your way to the kitchen.

Sure enough, your blonde lover is at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Headphones in his ears.

You listen as he quietly croons along to Sweet Nothing, a soft smile on his lips as the music surrounds him. You almost don't want to interrupt his moment of bliss. You know that song touches him deeper than any other track on the whole album. You've sleepily joined him a few times as he's lulled you to sleep with it. He's admittedly not the most talented singer in the world, but his singing is the most melodious sound you have ever heard. You wouldn't trade it for anything.

Soon though, he looks up to find you leaning against the doorway. The smile grows wider as he pauses the song and comes to you to wrap you in his arms. Nevermind that you're soaked to the bone.

"Hey sweetheart."

You bury your face further into his chest, choosing to let his warmth heal your battered soul. He gets the hint, rubbing circles into your back.

Five seconds pass.

Fifteen.

Thirty.

You start crying noiselessly. It's been a really long day and it's weighed on you heavily. But you're not crying from the pressure.

🎶Outside they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming.🎶

You're crying because you've come home. To his sweet nothings.

He cradles you close to his heart, even as you clean up and get ready for bed. He holds you tightly, your favourite sound in the world ringing in your ears as you drift off into sleep.

You feel much more refreshed when you wake up. Of course he isn't next to you when you look to your side. It's not a big deal. He'll be back when you need him. You smile at memories of the previous night. You'll never stop marvelling at how his kindness is still intact after all he went through.

Today's a big day. Anticipation ripples through your friend circle in an undercurrent. All you can think about is the movie you're going to watch later in the evening. It's a huge thing for the franchise and its fandom, the biggest event of the decade. It's the culmination of eleven years of movies...and you're not sure what exactly you're going to do after this film's over.

You've had a major spoiler from one of your loose-lipped friends who saw it on opening night, but you're holding hope that he was joking even though you knew perfectly well he wasn't.

You cry when your favourite characters die. You cry when the spoiler moment arrives. Your friend had given you half the story. You saw the rest coming.

You refuse to speak a word after that. You're as silent as a grave in the restaurant, even though it's your favourite cuisine. Everyone else is either quietly sobbing or talking about the hilarious jokes that had been thrown in here and there. Whichever happens to be their coping mechanism. You stopped crying the moment you were outside the theatre. Knowing better than to bother you, they leave you alone, only making sure from time to time that you eat a substantial amount.

You trudge your way up the stairs again, feeling hollow inside. Get over it, it's a movie. None of it is real. None of it is real. Stop weeping over fictional characters, you tell yourself repeatedly. Your rational pep talk works well...until you're inside your safe haven, away from the rest of the world.

Because the moment you do...

"Hey sweetheart."

You should be angry. You should tell him how heartbroken you are. You should let him know how out of line he was.

But...

But he's here. He's here, radiant, smiling, warm. And yours. How do you even begin to be mad at him?

You crumble like a sandcastle.

"How was the film?" he asks brightly.

"You left." you fight back a sniffle.

"I left?" He's confused. Obviously. Your sweet angel Steve doesn't know any better. Can't know any better.

"You went back in time to be with her. You left everyone alone to live out a life in the past. A life where you didn't belong anymore." You whisper. You can't yell at him when he's holding you like that. Looking at you like that. Like you're his entire world.

"Oh darling..." he presses your head to his chest against, stroking your hair and kissing your temple. "Darling, that's ridiculous. That's nuts. I don't know why they'd even think of that. Look here," he pulls back slightly and tilts your chin up to meet his loving baby blues. "I'm right here." He strokes your cheek.

"Right." A peck to your lips.

"Here." Another.

"With." Kiss.

"You." Kiss.

"Always." One final kiss to seal the promise.

Your bottom lip wobbles. You don't know what you'd do without this man in your life. You can't afford to let him go.

"Y/N, you know everyone has to go sometime, right?" he's making every effort to make this as gentle for you as possible.

Dammit, was that my outside voice?

"Don't," you croak out.

The feeling of his arms around you is fading, too quickly for your liking. Your nose can't trace his scent anymore.

"I love you, Steve." You whimper.

He looks torn. "Darling, I'm not even rea-"

You close your eyes, blocking out whatever he's trying to say. You shake your head softly, focusing on him in your mind's little tired eye.

His voice fades. The warmth surrounding you is gone. All your senses are left numb.

You take a deep breath.

🎶They said the end is coming, everyone's up to something.

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings.🎶

Go fuck yourself, Endgame.

Your eyelids part open, just a sliver at first, then all the way.

His image fizzles for a moment before reappearing - brighter, clearer. The familiar smell of coffee, cologne and a hint of fabric conditioner is back in the air between you two. You're pulled closer to a firm, broad chest.

He smiles, and the room brightens, along with your spirits.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

[Yeah, I don't know where this came from. I had to let this out I guess. Sweet Nothing always reminds me of Steve. I thought setting reader in our real world would be a cool idea.

This is basically also me before and after Endgame.

Do reblog and/or leave some feedback if you appreciate it.]

Divider by: @firefly-graphics