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DAY 90
Honey Daniels wasn't quite sure why she was standing in front of Steve's apartment door at one o'clock in the morning.
Yeah, she could lie and say it was because she hadn't heard a peep from him in three days so therefore, she wanted to make sure everything was okay. But the truth was, she wanted to make sure that he was okay, because her dumb heart gave her no other choice. Catching feelings should be renamed "being put into a choke-hold by your heart strings" instead.
She'd been standing outside of his apartment for ten minutes, lifting her hand to knock on the door three different times, but eventually succumbing to her nerves and bringing her hand back down to her side. In all honesty, she was afraid that he would tell her to leave, because he didn't seem like he wanted to talk to her during their last encounter at all.
But then a crashing sound emanated from the other side of the apartment door, leaving her with no choice but to knock frantically against it.
A groan followed from the other side, as the door clicked and opened slowly, revealing a shirtless Steve Rogers who donned only a pair of grey sweatpants that clung to his muscular hips. His dirty blonde hair was messy, falling down into his face from different angles, moving every time his breath heaved from his parted lips. Staring down at her with his blue eyes, he let out a breathless, short chuckle.
"What are you doing here?"
Frankly, he looked like hell, which made her even more worried.
"What was that sound?" she squeaked. "Is everything okay?"
He pursed his lips as he glanced inside over his shoulder at something she couldn't see. "Yeah, I'm just, uh, what did you call it that one time? Redecorating?"
Rubbing her forearms nervously, her eyebrows furrowed despondently as she examined the state that he was currently in. For once, Honey was rendered rather speechless, unsure of what to say in this moment - so the pair stared at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds until Steve finally let out a heavy sigh.
"I take it you're not going to leave," he grumbled, turning around to disappear back into his apartment, leaving the door open for her. "Come in."
Hesitating at first, she brushed a few strands of her dark waves behind her ears, sucking in a deep breath as she took a step inside. The oxygen nearly left her lungs as her eyes laid on the broken beer bottles that were scattered across his living room floor, followed by the white line of powder on top of his coffee table with a tiny, rolled up piece of paper lying next to it. Her fingers came up to her lips in shock as she examined the cracks in his television, and the pictures that were once on the walls - broken in the floor.
