Just Him&I: In a Universe of Cruelty

Part • 4

Of course, I don't mind sitting still and doing nothing, but I need to at least find myself a job. I don't want to burden James, especially to live off him. The only place I can get hired in my situation is as a waitress, it's basic, but practical.
But it seems my plans will have to wait a bit. I changed into blue skinny jeans and a loose zip-up hoodie, which was one size too big. But I found it more comfortable that way.
"I wonder how he knows my size."
I walked out of the room and found him cooking.
His hair was tied up in a bun, and he was still in just his pants, which I didn't mind at all. He had broad shoulders, so hiding them would be pointless. Every muscle in his body moved as he did something, like a mechanism. I got lost in thought for a moment when he handed me a plate of fried potatoes. The smell snapped me out of it, and I inadvertently smiled.
I remembered how my mom used to cook oatmeal for me. I was quite young, but her presence stayed with me in my memories. I don't remember well what she looked like. But I will never forget how much she loved me. I promised to get to the bottom of her case and strangle the person responsible with my own hands.
As I was thinking, we silently exchanged glances.
The plate was empty. I thanked him and went to the sink, grabbing his plate as well.

— Thanks! You're a great cook! — I said while washing the dishes. — Where did you learn to cook like this?
I dried the plate and turned to face him. He frowned again, and his gaze clouded.

— In the army — "Why did I even ask? Who made me say that?"
He lowered his head; those memories still troubled him.

— I'm sorry — I almost whispered, but he heard it perfectly.

— It's nothing — he replied. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. I flinched slightly and looked at James.

Not a single muscle on his face twitched. He seemed calm as a rock. Silently, he walked to the door and opened it. Steve entered, dressed in completely ordinary clothes. I wasn't used to seeing him without his uniform. His blond hair was neatly combed, and he wore jeans and a dark blue jacket. He smelled pleasantly of fresh lemon and cedarwood. Women melted at his smile like butter on a hot pan.
I relaxed slightly but still kept an eye on his actions. They shook hands.
Then Steve noticed me. I was hard to miss, standing in the middle of the room like I'd seen a ghost. I was glad it was him and not someone from Hydra, but I was worried about what I would say and how he would take it.

— And this is... — he began, but I reacted too quickly.

— I'm Mia, James' friend — I extended my hand and smiled lightly. James didn't show any signs that something was wrong.
Steve shook my hand and smiled back.

— I'm Steve, nice to meet you — he replied easily. I knew who he was and all the Avengers for that matter. But it was better for him not to know. I'll tell him later when I'm ready.

— So, you've already met someone? — Steve asked, turning to James. He nodded slightly in agreement. A suspicious smile played on his friend's face. I knew what he was hinting at. But there couldn't be anything between us beyond friendship. And even that wasn't guaranteed.

— I'll go make some tea — I could see they needed some time alone. Steve smiled at me, and I headed for the kettle. They were talking about their own matters. I made the tea and brought it to them. I didn't have much desire to sit and listen to what they were discussing.
So I took out my phone and started looking at job postings for waitressing positions.
The wind from the open window blew into the room, playing with my hair, brushing against my thin face. I winced and continued scrolling. In Bucharest, where I am now, there are plenty of available positions, but I was searching for the one that would suit me completely and only me.
I put the phone aside on the bed and blinked a few times. My eyes hurt terribly, and my neck was stiff. I wasn't used to spending much time on the phone; I hardly used it except when absolutely necessary, like now. So I slid lower onto the bed and tilted my head back, closing my eyes.
I heard the front door close and realized Steve had left. Darkness covered the city outside. I still sat with my eyes closed, hearing James enter the room. He sat down next to me, the bed creaking and sinking under his weight. I still didn't open my eyes.

— Steve said Pierce was killed... — he said it as if it brought me discomfort or hit a sore spot, but I remained perfectly calm. Finally, I opened my eyes and looked at him, as if searching for answers to all the questions in the world.

— I know. And yes, I don't care — I said emotionlessly and turned toward the window. I truly didn't care, but I had wanted to do it with my own hands. I think James had dreamed of the same.

— I understand, but he was your father. — From his lips, it sounded strange. This person had caused him so much pain, and he said it so calmly as if nothing had happened.
As if he hadn't been wiped out multiple times.
As if he hadn't been put through so much pain.
As if they hadn't used him as a puppet. I didn't understand him.

— We both know perfectly well who he really was. He's not my dad and never was. I don't see any point in continuing this conversation. — I was truly angry. I looked into his blue eyes, seeing sympathy and guilt for what he had just said. I wasn't mad at him, not in the slightest.

— Steve liked you — he easily changed the subject, as if nothing had happened. As if we weren't just sitting here discussing Pierce's death. But it was for the best.

— I'm glad. But you didn't... — I involuntarily smiled. Then my face became completely serious. Now I was truly afraid. I didn't have time to finish before he interrupted me.

— No, I didn't tell him who you really are. — It was like a weight lifted off me. I exhaled softly and tucked my legs under myself.

— Goodnight, and thank you — I said too quietly when he was almost out of the room. It seemed like he didn't hear or didn't want to hear. I felt awkward for taking his bed. And he might be sleeping on the hard couch.
I sat on the phone for another thirty minutes. A feeling of guilt wouldn't leave my mind, and I finally decided to go to him. Maybe he wasn't asleep yet.
I walked barefoot on the laminate floor, hearing the TV was still on and the dim light was on. I didn't think he was asleep, but it seemed I was wrong.
He was lying on the floor, or rather, he was sleeping on the floor. James was only covered with a single sheet. He was breathing heavily; I heard his breathing more than the TV. Each time, his chest rose slower than the last. I stood in the corner of the room behind his back, unable to approach. I didn't understand what had happened to him.
Finally, I gathered all my courage and went over to him, lightly shaking his shoulder. I felt his muscles tense under my hand, becoming harder. He turned toward me, looking straight into my soul, still breathing heavily.