Free Soul | Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 25: my head is in the fogs right now

It wasn't certain, to a befuddled Hyunjae, for how long they had been sneaking around. Her feet didn't hurt; she had gone through worst torture. Her body didn't feel the tiredness anymore; there was a place for only the devouring void. The everlasting starlights died under the arrows of the rising Sun, casting its dusk on the disturbed mind of the lost souls.

The atmosphere was heavy. They had to drag their bodies as discreetly as possible around the dormant neighborhood closely outskirting the city, all the while keeping a sharp attention on any dubious movement which could possibly turn into their persecutors. They had eventually managed to escape so far that the pressure had left their system, instead leaving its mark in their trail.

They were drenched in sweat, stained in soots, covered in dust. But they had to go through Washington as Steve knew a really kind hearted friend— he apparently had a friend other than the fantastic Hyunjae. It was great for him. She didn't care, couldn't at the moment. Their stolen car had been dumped on a deserted street before they passed the gates of the waking up city.

They then used the last remaining of their stamina to rush their steps near the damn house of Steve's friend, and they waited. They waited, and waited, until the supposed friend showed up walking towards his doorstep, his morning jog around the river having reached its end. Hyunjae at first was distant from following the movement when the trio decided to move, stuck in a rigid daydream with the hues of a vivid nightmare.

So Natasha had seized her wrist and attempted to pull her out of it— it seemed to the ones hopeful for their romance's bloom that it was the case, but she was too preoccupied by finding a safe house for the both of them to notice the alarming state she was in. Natasha simply pulled Hyunjae forward by the wrist so the latter wouldn't fall behind.

However, that touch, for the Korean, it was as though a slim ray of sunlight managed to shine through the layers of poisonous waters she was drowning in. It brought her a trifle nearer that chthonic reality, silently grateful towards the warmth and familiarity of her love. Hyunjae was grateful to have Natasha, sincerely. She solely cursed Wuxing for planting the fear she had of herself.

If without it, if without that... maybe, just maybe, she would have-

But Natasha let go her wrist as soon as Steve ceased his fast walking and turned to his left, crossing the road without giving a single fuck about if a car was peacefully riding on the stupid asphalt. Their pace consequently slowed down for them to regain a more regular breathing. They approached the front door, in heavy and yet quiet pants. It was still early in the morning.

That emptiness returned to gnaw at Hyunjae's insides at celerity's speed, and she returned to absentmindedly following the motions when Steve knocked frankly on the glass. The noise barely had the chance to pass the barriers around her mind that they became the outcasts of her unhealthily safe inner bubble. That same bubble which was about to burst all oxygen off.

The inhabitant hadn't drifted to sleep since he shortly opened the blinds after. He froze at the sight for a second, his confused gaze juggling between all three of the homeless looking people, until it settled itself on the most familiar frame: tired blue eyes, dirty blonde hair. There was then no hesitation in his actions when he opened his door; "Hey, man."

Steven Rogers! man, you looking good!

I'm lying. He's not looking good right now.

"I'm sorry about this. We need a place to lay low." The Captain being the Captain with his serious demeanor, he meant business with a shade of worry for his friend. Welcoming fugitives into his house was a consequent risk. He was really well aware of that.

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us." And the Russian being the Russian, she deadpanned at the worst moment ever. Although it was more so to hide how innerly haggard and nervous she felt.