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roobierubyroobieruby · 7 years

Text

I Remember It

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 5,520 (minus song lyrics)

Warnings: angst and heartbreak - no resolution to it (sorry)

Summary: In a short amount of time, Steve became one of your best friends. Over the course of your 11 month friendship, things changed so drastically that you could barely keep up - and you’re still suffering the Rogers Effect a year on...

(italics are all flashbacks, **flashback scene in a flashback)

A/N: This is based off of the Taylor Swift song “All Too Well”, so I wrote this for Steve because I wanted to do an angst-feels fic that essentially was all about heartbreak. This fic talks about events taking place over 11 months, then 3 months after those 11 months - so where I’ve written “1 month post...” means 1 months after the events of the 11 months. If that makes sense? And I designed it to jump around, it’s a rollercoaster! I used real experiences for this too so yeah, hopefully it breaks your heart a little <3 ily

You stepped through your apartment door, your heart heavy with sadness. You had been on your way home from SHIELD, mindlessly flicking through your social media when you saw a photo Wanda had uploaded two hours ago of the whole team. Your heart had sunken into your chest, your breathing ceased, as your eyes were drawn to look at his face. You tortured yourself doing this, stopping to stare at the photo instead of scrolling passed it like you should have.

It had been just over a year since you’d seen him, even longer since you had spoken, but the pain was as fierce as if no time at all had passed. Your eyes studied his features - his carefree smile, the way he stood behind Wanda with his hand on her shoulder, his other arm slung over Bucky’s, his hair was so perfectly swept to the side as he always liked it, and his eyes shone so brilliantly blue that it felt like you were staring into the sky after months of darkness, having forgotten what it looks like.

You bit down on your lip, your leg bouncing up and down, trying to ward off the tears as your throat closed up. You had held yourself together until the moment you’d stepped through your door, feeling the hot tears run down your face.

You shuffled through the lounge and hallway, taking solace in your bedroom while you changed into comfier clothes. Thankfully, this was one place he hadn’t invaded, hadn’t tainted, with his own personal poison to ensure you were haunted by him forever.

You heard the front door open and Nat’s voice sing out, realizing she was home earlier than expected as she moved through the apartment. You were perched on the floor of your room, your back resting against the cold, hard wall, and your knees pulled up close against you.

“(Y/N) are you ho- oh my god are you ok?!” She rushed over to you, crouching down to look you in the eyes.

I’m fine.

You wanted to say, the words stuck on your tongue.

I saw a picture of him and barely felt anything.

You wanted to scream, but it died in your throat.

I finally think I’m over it, over him.

You thought to yourself, the words sinking you further into the floor.

Instead, you let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in anymore, your chest cleaving in two. As soon as the floodgates opened, it all came out. Your mind raced through everything that ever happened between you - from start to finish, and every beautifully pure detail in between. Your body shook with the ferocity of your tears, Nat moving to sit next to you and pull you tightly into her in an attempt to provide some comfort.

(Nat’s POV)

She knew exactly what had happened, that you had seen him. She was sure it was that photo Wanda had uploaded, since there was nothing else that could cause you to break like this since you deleted him from all of your social media, and your life. She had been there every single day, from the moment he’d left you high and dry, to now. Even though you were still healing your broken heart, you had made so much progress.

You had lost weight at the beginning, your pallor looking thin and sickly, you stopped sleeping and eating, and that was when she insisted that you two move out from the tower. She even spoke to Agent Coulson and got you moved to another team - although they weren’t the Avengers, they all had their own abilities and worked missions the same way the Avengers did. They weren’t as high profile either, being dubbed “The Silent Knights”, so you got a break from the constant media frenzy that used to surround you.

It had worked in your favour that this team was specialized for covert, highly classified missions that relied on stealth, since you and Nat had both had the same...treatments. Where she was the Avenger’s super spy weapon, you went back to your roots with the Knights, enjoying the thrill of the hunt in the cover of darkness.

After a couple of weeks off, away from him and the tower, you had begun to gain some colour. You filled out your clothes a bit better and you begun venturing outside of your shared apartment, even if it was just down to the shop and back. You had even begun to laugh again, a sound that nearly brought tears to her eyes because she feared he had broken you to a point you wouldn’t be able to recover from entirely.

She had kept Bruce away from the apartment, not wanting to flaunt her relationship with him in front of you, but you had noticed how his absence had affected her and you’d given her the okay to have him over. You had explained that you were a big girl and that you didn’t want to be the one standing between her and her happiness, that just because your heart was broken, she didn’t have to suffer alongside you.

Besides, you had to start moving passed it all eventually, and Bruce was lovely, he knew the situation and wouldn’t dare bring up his name, so he was safe to you.

As she sat there, cradling you and soothing you, she wondered whether there was going to come a day where you would be able to be truly happy again, a day where the mere sight of him wouldn’t reduce you to anything. A day where you were finally indifferent, or at the least unaffected by him.

(Your POV)

You were captive into your head, your mind forcing you to relive those 11 months with him, and the 3 months after that in limbo felt like your own personal brand of torture. You held onto Nat, your fingers curling around her arms as you struggled to regain control, but it was no use. This was it. You had fallen again, your body draining of energy and falling apart at the seams, each memory another blow to your already fragile heart.

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold

But something ‘bout it felt like home somehow

And I left my scarf there at your sister’s house

And you’ve still got it in your drawer even now

(Four months in)

You collapsed through his door, laughing as he scrambled to pull you back into his arms.

“Steve no, please stop,” breathlessly squealing through his attack, “you know I hate being tickled!”

“I’m trying to warm you up and get your blood pumping! I’m helping you doll!”

He laughed, wrapping his body around yours and nuzzling into your neck. The sensation of his skin on yours jolted you away from him, turning to face him.

“I forgot my scarf! I knew I was colder on the way back here than when we went there! You thought I was crazy!” You punched him in the chest, knowing he would barely feel it, “well I will get it back for you then, I’m sure Wanda probably picked it up on the way out.” He moved in to kiss you, his lips warm and soft, his arms encircling your waist. It was slow, lingering, your fingers moving up around his neck to play with his hair. You heard a low moan when you did, his grip tightening before you broke apart.

“I think I’m pretty warmed up now Steve, you’ve done well.” You chewed on your lip, savouring the taste of him.

“Oh love, I have much better ways to do that...:” His eyes grew hungry, his hands wandering down your body as he pressed his lips against yours, moving you back through the room and kicking the door shut.

A week later, you were rifling through Steve’s drawers - wearing nothing but your gym shorts and sports bra - looking for your favourite shirt of his to steal, when your hands brushed over familiar fabric. You pulled your scarf out of his drawer, staring quizzically, wondering when he’d picked this up.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to give that back to you. I kept forgetting.”

He was standing in the doorway, fresh from his morning run, his hand nervously running through his hair.

“Or, maybe you keep it because you secretly want to wear my pretty red and blue floral scarf?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, snickering at the image in your head. “The red and blue are your colours after all, Captain America.”

He strode up to you, his hand pulling the scarf - and you - to him, “I also wear white, Red Widow.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek while you feigned shock at him using your spy name, before sauntering off into the adjoined bathroom, allowing the door to remain ajar so you could see him strip his shirt off through the mirror.

“You know, between you stealing my shirts, and leaving your own stuff here, it’s as if we live together at this point.”

He stared at you through the mirror, a smirk playing on his lips as you shook your head at him.

“You know, maybe this is home somehow. Not the room, just wherever you are.” You moved through to the bathroom, poking your head through to see him in the shower.

He opened the shower door, “you know what I think?” A mischievous grin broke across his face as he launched himself out and wrapped his arms around your torso, lifting you and carrying you towards the shower.

“STEVE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You squealed in delight, your arms flailing to grab a hold of anything that might give you some leverage. He smoothly reoriented himself to pin your legs, edging towards the water.

“I need a shower, and I want you to help me.”

You relented, nipping at his lips, “aren’t you a big boy? Why do you need my help?”

“Maybe I just want some company.” His fingers brushed under the waistband of your pants, tickling your skin. “I’ll deal with these in a minute.”

He stepped into the warm steam, putting you down gently while his mouth worked its way over your neck, up to your jaw, before finally giving in and meeting your mouth. His hands roamed your body, grabbing your waist harder as he grew more frenzied in his actions.

You both had a really, really good shower that morning, feeling right at home.

Oh your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze

We’re singing in the car getting lost upstate

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

And I can picture it after all these days

(2 months in)

You snuck a glance over at Steve, the sunlight gleaming onto his face - highlighting his soft, pouty lips, his long eyelashes framing his crystal blue eyes, and his golden hair creating a halo around his head. His brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over his lips, driving one-handed in his usual fashion.

You heard the familiar chords of the electric guitar fill the speakers of the car as you leapt with joy in the passenger seat, causing Steve to yell in panic.

“What, are you ok?!”

You stared at him, eyes wide with joy, “it’s my song Steve!! Sing with me!”

He chuckled beside you, shaking his head as you turned the volume up, drowning out the world.

You swung your head wildly with the beat, pointing over to him, “I’m going out tonight, I’m feeling alright, gonna let it all hang out. Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice, yeah I wanna scream and shout.”

You winked at him, stomping your feet to the rhythm, “come on, sing with me!”

“The best thing about being a woman, is the prerogative to have a little fun, yeah!”

You belted out the chorus, looking over to see Steve staring at you in his usual sweet way as he held his hand up like he was holding a microphone - belting out the chorus alongside you.

“Oh oh oh, like totally crazy, forget I’m a lady, men’s shirts short skirts, oh oh oh oh really go wild yeah doin’ it in style,”

You squealed in delight, his moves exaggerated - rolling and shaking his shoulders, slightly moving his head from side to side - as if he were performing to a stadium instead of just a girl in a car, his eyes shining with glee.

“oh oh oh get in the action, feel the attraction, colour my hair, do what I dare, oh oh oh I wanna be free yeah, to feel the way I feel,”

With the final line, you both turned to stare at each other, holding your invisible microphones, deadpan expressions on your faces, “man, I feel like a woman!”

You threw yourself back into your seat, lost in a fit of laughter over the Captain breaking out into a Shania Twain song - ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman’ no less. You would remember this moment forever.

And I know it’s long gone

And that magic’s not here no more

And I might be okay

But I’m not fine at all

(9 months in)

“No please Nat, don’t go talk to him. If he wanted to see me, or even talk to me, he would.”

“(Y/N), he’s being an ass! He can’t treat you like this just because he feels like it. You’ve been there for him for months now, and what, just because he’s ‘busy’ he has no time for you anymore?”

“Look, I am more hurt by this than I ever thought I’d feel, even more so because I never thought he would be the one to hurt me. But he has, and I don’t know what I did to deserve it but whatever we had is gone.”

“You seem awfully okay to just let this go…”

“I’m not okay, I’m not even remotely okay or fine or managing at all. But I have to anyway, because if he’s too busy to even let me know he’s okay then I can take the hint.”

“You shouldn’t have to just take it. He’s the one that’s pulling away for no reason and you shouldn’t be expected to just accept that.”

“I have to. If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”

‘Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red ‘cause you were looking over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well

(2 months in cont.)

Your laugh echoed through the car, almost drowned out by the wind whistling through and moving your hair in wild directions, your eyes taking in the small town shops and the way the light shone through the trees to cast an earthly glow on the entire place.

You felt him slip his hand underneath yours, his fingers intertwining, squeezing gently. You turned back to him, meeting his eyes, your lips parted slightly in surprise before melting into a smile at the sight of him smiling at you.

You bit your lip gently, feeling his thumb move over your skin, sending shivers across every nerve, butterflies erupting through every part of your stomach. You glanced down, your mind wanting to make sure this was real, before you were jolted in your seat as the car came to a halt.

He erupted into deep, raucous laughter when he realized that he’d narrowly avoided running a red light, a little old lady glaring at the two of you in your own personal bubble, oblivious to the outside world when you had each other.

Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red

You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin sized bed

And your mother’s telling stories about you on the tee ball team

You tell me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me

(6 months in)

One night, you were sat on the barstool next to Steve, leaning forward into his side, looking through some old photos that he had found of himself, as well as photos of you when you were younger. He didn’t have many, seeing as it was the 40’s and after his parents died and he went to war, there wasn’t really anyone around to keep things.

He treasured what he had, regaling stories of times when he and Bucky would get into mischief, or when the two of them were so inseparable that he had tried out for the school baseball team just to be with Bucky.

You stared at his profile, taking in every feature - big and small - while he told you of the time that little seven-year-old Steve tried to jump from his twin bed across the room onto his dresser. He had missed and hit the floor with a thud so loud that his mother had raced in fearing he was unconscious. He had broken his glasses, thankful they were intended to be temporary anyway, and he had cut his lip open on his teeth, causing blood to run down his chin and stain his clothes. He’d never heard the end of it from Bucky.

Sliding your photo album forward, his eyes roaming over every single photo and page - studying your child self and commenting about how cute you were, how similar you looked to your mother, how much you had and hadn’t changed - you began telling your own childhood stories.

You rarely opened up to people, having the experience that they always left once they got what they wanted from you, but you slowly began to trust that maybe - just maybe - Steve might be the one who changes your mind, breaks through your walls, and will stick around to be part of your future. Whatever that was, however it happened, you didn’t care so long as he was in it.

And I know it’s long gone

And there was nothing else I could do

And I forget about you long enough

To forget why I needed to

(3 months post…)

As much as you hated to admit it, Nat was right. Being in a new apartment, away from the tower, was good for you. Eating became a regular habit, as did sleep, and you had even moved teams so you didn’t have to see or speak to Steve anymore.

You had deleted him from all of your social media the day you’d started seeing posts of him with Sharon Carter, not wanting to subject yourself to the torture of wondering what she had that you didn’t - why she was good enough for him. Why giving yourself over to him, giving whatever he wanted of you to him without a second thought, wasn’t enough.

Soon, you noticed you’d go a day without him entering your mind, then two, then three. Soon, you were giving him a passing thought at best - focused on your team, missions, and life. Even though you hadn’t gotten any answers, or apology, regardless of the times you’d reached out in hopes of getting one, you had begun to accept that there was nothing else you could do. This was his choice, to cut you out of his life as if you were a malignant tumour that was killing him, and you didn’t need someone like that in your life.

Every now and then, your mind would wander back to him and you’d think of the good times you had, enjoying the untainted memories before you remembered why you were in this position in the first place - why you needed to forget him at all. You deserved better. That was what mattered, and that was why you were determined to forget him, because he didn’t give you any sparing thought when he was cutting into your heart and ripping it to pieces with his silence. Why should you have to continue to suffer for someone else’s choice. You don’t. You deserved better.

You just had to try and remind yourself of that every time you remembered his face, and why you were no longer a part of each other’s lives. You deserved better.

‘Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We’re dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah

(7 months in)

You had wandered from your room, seeking out a hot cup of tea in the hopes it would calm your mind enough to sleep. You sat on the very same barstool as the night you had reminisced about your past with Steve, letting the memory relax your body, closing your eyes as the heat flooded through your cold limbs.

“Can’t sleep?”

His low voice, so familiar you didn’t need to look to know he was already sitting next to you, broke through your trip down memory lane.

“Nope, another night of exhaustion and an inability to make up for it. But hey, it’s only 1.30am, I still have time to get in a couple of hours if this tea does its job.”

You smiled weakly, sparing a glance at him while he moved to open the fridge - always on the hunt for food - taking the opportunity to gaze at his form: the way his sweat pants hung low on his hips, his shirt stretching across his shoulders, the way his soft hair was standing haphazardly on end, sleep making him look at least 50 years younger than his 95 years old and almost as if he were vulnerable.

He turned around to face you, sighing with a small smile on his beautiful, soft lips, “ok, come here.”

You quietly put your mug on the counter, shifting off of the barstool and moved into Steve’s open arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, him hugging your waist, nuzzling into your neck as he began to slowly rock. He pulled away ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours, moving his arms to rest on your hips, licking his lips.

You both were turning in a small circle, illuminated by the fridge light, the only sound being your slow breaths and your heartbeat thundering in your chest. You heard him begin to hum, one of his favourite slow tunes from the 40’s, letting the sound wash over you and relax your mind. Your eyes grew heavy, laying your head against his chest as he kissed your forehead, his steady heartbeat syncing with yours.

“You know I love you right? You’re my best friend, and I know I said that I don’t think you can love a person unless they’re family or a lover, but you were right. You can love someone more than other people, you love them because you treasure them above all else, without wanting it to be romantic. So, I love you (Y/N).”

You felt a small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. “I know I said that, but I don’t expect you to tell me you love me just because I believe in that kind of love. You don’t and that’s fine, because I know you care about me whether you say it or not.” You let out a long breath, “but in any case, I love you too Steve. You’re my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you in my life.”

You felt him breathe a sigh of relief, his fingers moving under your shirt to trace small circles in the sensitive skin above your hips.

“I’ll always be here. I have nightmares about you leaving me, you know. I wake up panicked, scared you’re really gone.” His hands tightened around you, his voice low and laced with anxiety. “I actually had one tonight, which is why I was up. I’m glad I have you right here with me right now.”

“You know you could always call me or come and find me if you’re having nightmares. I’m always here for you.”

The cold from your body was gone, replaced with his warmth as you nestled yourself further into him, soon begging sleep to let you have just five more minutes.

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

‘Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

(1 month post…)

He’d gone radio silent again, only one week after you’d gone to the movies together - his attempt at repairing the rift in your friendship. Relationship? Whatever this was. The pain buried itself deep inside your heart, constricting your chest, as your finger hovered over his name in your phone.

Should you bother texting him anymore? All you got were limited responses, if any at all, but you just couldn’t forget about everything that had happened between you - dropping it as if it never existed in the first place.

It’s as if he got scared of the idea of being close again and high-tailed it out of there, as if you had the plague. Not only had he hurt you the first time he did this, but he’d tried since to hope you’d forgive him, to earn back your trust. You had given him both, even though fear and experience told you to run for the hills and not look back, knowing that your friendship was worth fighting for.

The fact that history repeated itself only told you that whatever you were - whatever you had - he’d torn up, thrown away, burned. What you thought was a masterpiece, was just scrap paper to him. You began to look back over your friendship, trying to pinpoint moments where you might have gotten confused and misunderstood his friendly intentions, or maybe times when you’d asked too much of him, but the only things that came to mind were the times when he’d sought you out - which was every single time - to hold you, kiss you, touch you, and tell you he loved you. There was no mistaking that, right?

Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I’m a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

‘Cause I remember it all, all, all too well

(10 months in)

“Nat, he texted me. I mean, he didn’t come and see me or call me, but he messaged me, asking to go to the movies. He said he misses me. He said he loves me.”

You were staring at your phone in your hand, looking at the text message as if it were physically hurting you, like a hot stone burning into your palm.

“Well what do you want to do?”

You put the phone face down on her bed, throwing yourself into her pillows. “I just want to ignore him, hope that he suffers even a smidgen of what he put me through last month, but I can’t say no. God, why can’t I say no!”

You felt silent tears sliding down your face, thinking back over the way he’d so casually just dropped you from his life without so much as a message or anything. You ceased to exist before you snapped and confronted him. It’d been hours of arguing, yelling, him insisting that he was only doing it out of concern that you were getting feelings for him and he was trying to spare you.

“Steve, I’ve been upfront and honest with you this entire time, and I’ve never made a move on you or done anything unless you initiated it. You hold my hand because you want to, you hug me because you want to, you told me you loved me because you wanted to. I never initiated any of that because I knew you wanted to keep your distance, that you’re not an overly affectionate and emotional person, which is fine by me, just don’t go putting this on me when it was your decision to cut me out.”

“It’s as if you want me to be two different people! You say you want Steve Rogers but then get mad when I’m not Captain America. I can’t be both at the same time, you can’t just pick and choose the parts of me you like.”

“Since when have I ever asked you to choose? I chose you - all of you - from the get go. Not once have I done anything to have you question that, or at least you’ve never brought it up to me. Everything was fine until you decided it wasn’t, Steve, so I can’t play this game. You hurt me, you don’t get to decide you didn’t, and you don’t see how that’s your problem.”

You had stalked away, hiding away behind your locked door, buried under your blanket as you crumpled into a sobbing mess.

The unanswered text message taunted you, before you finally relented and said yes. The whole time, he’d held your hand, grabbed your waist, and made sure that in one way or another, he was always in contact with your skin. When you’d gotten uncomfortable in the theatre seats, he’d shifted the arm rest up, pulling your feet onto his lap as he lazily drew small circles over your thighs.

He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulder when you’d gotten cold, laying small kisses on your cheek and temple, his attention warming the chill you had been trying to maintain in defence. He’d told you he loved you as he dropped you at your door, insistent on walking you even though you lived in the same building, and as soon as he’d left, your phone lit up with a message from him saying goodnight and reminding you he loved you once more.

You began to question what his love meant, fear creeping into your skin as you debated whether his declarations of love were starting to mean something more to him.

Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it

I’d like to be my old self again but I’m still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

(2 months post…)

You were packing up the last of your things, glancing around at the stark, bare room in shock. This had been your home for so long and now it was time to go. Of course, you couldn’t stay anymore when it meant being around him, but you didn’t want to leave your home and your family just because of him. Nat had been insistent that you two needed to move out together, calling your apartment the ‘Widow’s Web’ in an attempt to get your more excited, but you were grieving. The loss of your friend, and the loss of your home.

You were putting the last of your clothes in a box when you pulled out a dark blue plaid shirt, instantly recognizing it as one of his. Your chest caved, remembering how many nights you spent wrapped up in it, the smell of him relaxing you into a deep sleep devoid of your own nightmares. Now, you had to find your own ways to cope, now with your normal nightmares and the ones he’d induced.

You folded it up, placing it on top of the empty dresser as Wanda poked her head in the open door.

“Hiya (Y/N)! Wow, it’s really happening. It’s so strange to think we won’t be neighbours in the tower anymore.”

She put some things down on the stripped bed, hugging you hard, fighting back her own tears.

“I’m so sorry you felt you had to leave to find yourself again lovely.”

You pulled away, nodding for fear that you’d begin crying if you opened your mouth. You noticed the pile of things she’d placed on the bed, your throat closing up.

“Oh, yeah. Steve gave me these to give to you. I wouldn’t of given in if it had been stupid stuff, but I noticed it was all yours and I thought you’d want it back before you left.”

“Thank you Wanda.” You slowly grabbed everything off the bed, handling it as if it were poison, and dropped it into the last box, not caring that it was meant for clothes. You wanted it all out of your sight unless you wanted to spend another hour crying your eyes out.

Wanda pulled you into another hug, your body paralyzed as your mind was lost to thoughts of Steve, and what had happened over the last year - almost a year. You hadn’t even gotten through a year of true friendship before he’d disappeared from your life. No rhyme or reason except being too busy. Even that excuse had faded into nothingness. Silence was what your friendship with him was now. Just devoid of everything except the deafening silence.

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week

‘Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me

You can’t get rid of it ‘cause you remember it all too well, yeah

You had noticed in the months since Steve froze you out, the only thing you hadn’t found was your scarf. You thought maybe he had kept it, wanting a piece of you with him as if he still cared. But anyone who cared about anyone wouldn’t do what he did, so he’d have no sentimental reason to keep the scarf.

You guessed you’d misplaced it sometime, putting the absurd idea that Steve might care for you out of your head.

‘Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

It had been six months since you’d left the avengers tower, and your dreams were still haunted by his beautiful face, the way he’d throw his head back whenever he laughed, and the way he’d hold you close - always wanting to be touching your skin, hugging you with his hands on your waist, kissing you on your cheeks or temple. You thought back to the countless times he’d said he loved you, sometimes for no reason at all.

You knew you would’ve gone to war for him if he’d asked. Your love for him would’ve defied anything, because you trusted in him that he would be true to his words and actions, and that he treasured you just as much as you treasured him.

He had always said that he rarely felt true attachments, scared for them to leave or something to happen to them, and yet he was unable to imagine being without you. He’d told you over and over that you were one of the most important people in his life, one of the few he loved and one of the only people he ever told he loved. He felt what you had together was rare, and that he wanted to have you in his life forever.

You realized you two had different definitions of what forever meant.

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all

Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

You had made it through an entire year without Steve in your life, experiencing moments of joy and triumph that were only yours, not poisoned by his presence, You had been on your way home when you saw the photo. It brought back memories you had tried to bury, not wanting to relive his words and touches, his glances and kisses, not wanting to remember the way he said he loved you, and forever. It was rare he said, but evidently not so rare that it was priceless.

You remembered it all too well.

TAG LIST: @bewithme-forevermore @palaiasaurus64 @papi-chulo-bucky @kimistry27

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers reader insert #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve reader insert #reader insert #marvel #avengers #captain america #marvel reader insert #avengers reader insert #captain america reader insert #angst train #taylor swift song fic

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