Just Steve

T H I R T Y - T W O

"We don't have to do this right now."

Eyes fixed on your lap, you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. You felt jittery, every cell of your body anxious and alert. The heel of your foot tapped nervously on the floor as you sat on the couch. Steve sat on the other end, an awkward and obvious amount of space in between you. The walk back had been a quiet one. Somewhere in between the pastry shop and the house, the comfortable silence had turned quite the opposite. Turns out that two people who have a mountain of words left unsaid but neither one sure that they wanted to listen resulted in an awkward silence only a mime could envy. Who would have thunk. 

"I know I sort of freaked out on you back there but we can wait. I don't want to force you into talking about this if you aren't ready."

Steve sunk dejectedly into the soft cushions. He looked like he wanted to pretty much disappear into them whereas to you, the squashy feather pillows felt more like quick sand, pulling you down and locking you under.  

"No it's alright. Let's talk." You sighed heavily. It was time to rip off the band-aid. You weren't excited by the prospect but you knew you had pushed off this moment as long as you could. The band-aid was never a viable long-term solution, only a temporary bandage over the wounds of your past, covering the immediate pain but leaving the ugly scars underneath.

Steve moved slightly, situating himself so he was angled towards you, a serious look on his face as he steadied himself and you did your best to prepare for whatever he had to say. You felt yourself grow even more anxious, grabbing your water bottle from the end table and taking a sip just to keep yourself occupied. 

"I want you to come back to New York with me."

It took everything you had not to spit out any of your drink and you coughed loudly as the water travelled down the wrong pipe, burning the back of your throat. Well, you had to give him credit for not wasting any time. What an opening statement. No apologies, no excuses or explanations. It felt like you had fast-fowarded through the musical and gone straight to the flashy finale. 

"Just like that? I think you skipped a couple steps." You noted, your voice hoarse from coughing as you gently messaged your throat, placing the bottle back on the table. 

"Well what else did you expect?" He reasoned. "It's not like you can just stay in Boston on your own."

It was comments like these that reminded you that Steve was from an entirely different generation. He wasn't sexist by any means, but he had different deep-rooted and built-in assumptions about certain things that the modern era had shifted. 

You scoffed, looking at the man dryly as your feminist instincts took over. Who was he to tell you where you could live? If you wanted to live in Boston you could damn well live in Boston. 

"Says who? I like it here."

Steve sighed, shaking his head slightly. He met your gaze head on, not breaking under the semi-glare pointed his way and giving you a disheartened and knowing look. You stared back, swinging one of your legs up onto the couch and sitting on top of it. Steve was tall, and sitting here next to him you felt so small.

"It's not home, (Y/n)."

You looked away, turning your head towards the fire place to avoid the intense gaze of those piercing blue eyes. New York may have been your home in the stereotypical sense, but to you the term had always been subjective. Home wasn't just where you lived, it was the feeling you got when you were happy to be exactly where you were. You had felt it reading in your old neighborhood coffee shop and walking through central park on a crisp fall day. While you wished you could deny it, you had felt it at the tower too, playing video games with Peter or that day on the boat with Steve. But even the strongest of home's can be torn to ruins by a severe storm. You had tried so hard to build a solid foundation but you weren't sure if the comfort levels you had accumulated there had been enough to withstand Hurricane Sharon. Right now just the thought of facing everything and everyone that awaited you back in New York was daunting enough to made you wish there were even more miles between you and the city. There was still too much left unsettled.