* AMERICA'S NEW HOPE !

@russicnrat· says, “ i don’t think i trust anyone else. ”

“ i think i can get that. ” steve nods, painting in dmitry’s shoulder and peeking out from behind the easel. the afternoon sunlight streams the window, cloaking his subject in an almost uncharacteristic warmth. it’d taken weeks to get mr sudayev to hold a conversation with him, but while he and his wife could be enigmatic at times, they’d become easily some of steve’s favourite neighbours. “ how did you and mrs sudayev meet ? ”

it's difficult to imagine: as much as mrs sudayev has helped him, she's never so much as allowed him to lift a finger in return. a proud ( almost regal ) bearing keeps her from accepting steve's near-weekly offers to carry in the groceries, despite all the stairs.

His eyes flicker to the corner of the letter, watching it flutter as his hand starts to shake before he gingerly folds it up and shoves it into his pocket. “We always meant to go back…” He murmurs quietly, gaze veering off distantly. “But with the war… I didn’t think it’d be possible.” Like anyone else, Dmitry HATES this war and all it’s taken. He hates the glum news stories and the rationing. He hates the way people give him dirty looks on the street when they hear his accent and he hates it even more when they give that same dirty look to Anya. But now he has another reason. This damn war has robbed him of his best friend.

His chest aches, his heart growing heavy with guilt and grief as he swallows back the rest of the words he wants to say. Turning back to face his neighbor, Dmitry sighs and shakes his head. “I need something stronger.” Caffeine won’t do when all he wants is to FORGET he ever opened this letter in the first place. He starts down the hall slowly, only pausing halfway to glance back at Steve.  “You coming?”

he needs only a moment's hesitation before he nods and follows, each step punctuated by a creak. " coming. "

you shouldn't be alone, steve wants to say, but the words catch in his throat. his father would have despised those words, and his mother would have sobbed at them. instead, he wracks his brain for a gentler truth, something kinder. feather-light. what would he have wanted to hear, standing at his father's grave. hand in hand with his mother? what sweet words would have stirred up that heavy sorrow that settled in his heart when he watched them dig up the grave one more time to bury his mother?

he would have wanted another day with her. a good day, a beautiful one, where they watched the fireworks over the river on his birthday. or a small, ordinary one, where they went to the park after his school and her long hours of work. even a bad day, when she was sick and mostly slept, he would have wanted to hold her hand and talk to her for a few more minutes.

he would have spoken her into existence until he ran out of breath.

Captain America #1 - "Beginnings" (2023)

good day, gentlemen. you have exactly three seconds to surrender. unfortunately, it took five seconds for me to say that.