*** THIS STORY IS CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN IN A COMPLETELY NEW FORMAT/STORY. READ INSIDE FOR DETAILS ***
Natasha Moore had never been known to open up to anyone, especially if they weren't her best friend or little sister. She'd always stayed close...
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Natasha sat on the floor next to the couch Steve, Ted, and Hopper were sitting on. They were currently in the hospital, as Joyce and Jim managed to find Will and bring him back, quite alive. She glanced around, seeing everyone with worried, nervous, or tired expressions, before deciding that she'd sat there long enough.
She needed fresh air, and knew that she wouldn't be able to see Will for a while. Standing up, she walked out of the waiting room and into the cold night air, trying to collect her thoughts. The girl felt gross, and was in desperate need of a shower, but she knew she wouldn't get one until she went home.
Sitting on a bench in the front entrance, she just looked around enjoying the silence. For some reason, Natasha wanted to be alone. She had lots to think about, starting from things at home to what just happened in the past twenty four hours.
The feeling of someone sitting down next to her brought her out of her mind, and she looked over to see Steve. He didn't glance at her, but looked ahead.
"What are you doing out here?" She asked, turning her position to face him.
"Saw you come out here alone, thought I'd come follow you." Steve shrugged, "Talk to you about what happened."
"What about it?" She asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.
"Just- everything," He sighed, leaning forward on his knees. "That was crazy."
"It was nice of you to come help," Natasha stared at the boy. "For Nancy, of course." He turned, looking at her.
"I didn't come to help Nancy," He flatly said.
"What?" She asked.
"I was going to leave, I really was, but then I saw your face before I left. Nancy really didn't want me to be there- she made that obvious. But you were kind of alone in there." Steve shrugged.
"I wasn't alone," Natasha denied.
"Technically, no. But I was there part of the time. And I heard what Jonathan told you. That wasn't right and you might have died if I didn't go back." Steve admitted. He was telling the truth, but he wouldn't say what he thought of when he realized he needed to go back.
He wouldn't say that he thought of her face all those times they hung out, how excited she sounded when she saw he showed up to Jonathan's. He wouldn't say how cute it was that she was still wearing his t-shirt, and how cute she looked sleeping in his bed before. He didn't say how he had a bad feeling in his stomach because he almost left, how he felt upset at the idea of leaving Natasha and her dying.
He was right, if he hadn't come back, she might have died. Jonathan was still recovering, Nancy wouldn't have been able to do anything, and Natasha didn't have her weapon. That wouldn't have been something that Steve wanted to hear.
"Well thanks," Natasha said again.
"Don't mention it," Steve said, looking down at her clothing. He smiled lightly, glancing back up at her eyes. "I see you're still wearing my shirt."
