Rules of Friendship | 18+

𝘍𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 ♡

𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵♡➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

Moonlight spilled through the sheer blinds as Steve slept soundly beside me.

He was beautiful, a god amongst men. His sharp jaw held his soft mouth, and his long neck was stretched so prettily along the pillow. Steve slept on his back, I always knew that was his preferred position, but I liked to sleep on my side, so for the past seven years when he was with me, he slept on his side, holding onto me like I was his lifeline. Tonight I saw a side of Steve I wasn't used to, and that S pendant sat on my chest like a promise. His eyes were so soft when he saw me tonight, and it scared me. Because he really did love me, and if this went away, so did my friendship with him.

I carefully untangled myself from Steve, sliding out of the bed to go get some fresh air. Maybe if I wasn't around him for a moment I could still my racing brain.

I silently opened the balcony doors, looking over my shoulder once more to make sure that Steve hadn't woken up, and when I saw the rise and fall of his chest since he had rolled onto his back, I stepped out, letting the muggy Brooklyn air welcome me home. I loved Steve, and I always have, he's been my home for the past seven years, but I knew the boundaries in that relationship. I was his friend, he got handsy when he was drunk, he cuddled me on nights he stayed with me, and he always took care of me. And now, the boundaries have grown, he kissed me like I was his whole world, held me like I was fragile, precious even, gave me gifts meant for someone who would be in his life forever, and he had even transferred schools, just be close to me.

I wanted to be excited, I should be, but instead, I was scared.

Because, truly, I couldn't imagine a world without Steve Rogers in it. My Stevie, my handsy, annoying, and loving best friend. I couldn't imagine a world where he didn't call me baby and didn't pull me into his lap just to hold me. But, I also couldn't shake the feeling that maybe I was just a pastime, someone to fill up his summer with. Because with him coming to NYU, that opened a whole ocean of new people for him, people who were better suited for him I'm sure, and the thought of that made my stomach churn. I held the railing, my head dropping between my shoulders and I watched that S pendant swing, the pendant his father gave him, that I now wore. And I wanted to scream at myself, because why did all the negative thoughts pour through my head when he was doing nothing but showing me how much he loves me, how much he wants me?

Two warm palms caressed my hips, pulling me back so I collided with a strong chest, Steve's strong chest. I would know the feeling of his skin anywhere, would know the smell of bergamot and cedarwood anywhere. And the feeling of his warm chest made my eyes flutter shut, melting into his touch. I just needed to talk to him, I needed the reassurance.

Steve's mouth pressed against my temple, kissing my hairline softly before he spoke, his voice full of gravel and exhaustion, directly into my ear. "Come back to bed, baby."

I shook my head, feeling the tears form. God, why couldn't I just accept that Steve wanted me, why couldn't I accept that he loved me? Maybe it was because I've been in love with him for so long, that this felt like a cruel joke, like something that would be pulled away from me. Steve was my anchor, and if he left, I'd float until I drowned. "I'm not tired," I breathed out, accepting the fact I was crying, my tone held the broken syllables and I could feel the water rolling down my cheeks. Why couldn't I just accept the good things that happened to me?

Steve heard the tone, and even if he didn't, he'd be able to feel the change in my breathing. But nonetheless, I was pulled backward, Steve sitting in the chair on his balcony before spinning me around and lowering me onto his lap. My thighs pressed against the outside of his, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, sinking into him as my comfort. He didn't say anything, just held me, two hands on my hips while his thumb pressed small circles into the skin. And I broke, into his arms, on a day he needed my comfort, but I couldn't help it, I wasn't able to stop. "I'm sorry," I cried out, feeling him pull me tighter to him, "I'm sorry, you-" I sucked in a hard breath but Steve said nothing, just tangled one hand in my hair and held my head against his neck, "I'm sorry."