𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 • 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

27 • Telegram

Please ensure you read the authors note at the end of this chapter for some information regarding future chapters.
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Steve stirred his coffee mindlessly, staring out the window of the fire escape. The air was crisp as they left autumn and drifted into the early days of December. Despite winters arrival, a few autumn leaves still clung on which reminded him of Millie, since autumn was her favourite season.

He couldn't help but daydream of her at seemingly every moment. It was as if anything in the world could remind him of her. Sometimes, he swore he would turn around a corner and get a breeze of her perfume, still lingering on despite the fact she had been gone.

He was waiting for her to reply to his letter, and he's check his mailbox every morning– even on sundays, just in case. But there was never anything from her.

His mornings were just as lonely as his nights. Every day he'd wake up and pour himself a cup of coffee, for the first few weeks he would mistakenly grab two mugs out of habit, and fill one for her, before realising she was in a completely different country.

When he'd go to bed, well that's when things got interesting. No matter how much time would pass, nights would be the hardest. He'd feel cold without her next to him, and he'd always reach out for her in a half-asleep state, forgetting she wouldn't be there to grab onto.

His nights were always filled with her, whether she was in his dreams, or because he was crying himself to sleep over how much he missed her. Sometimes he'd find himself unable to get the image of her curvy body out of his head, and his hands would creep down to his boxers, slipping in and pumping his length until he came and then wept for her.

Today would be the same, he'd sketch for the police in hopes to make some extra cash, and spend his days lounging around until Bucky called in to see how he was.

Life became more difficult for Steve, finding motivation was hard, even to do the things he liked because he wished to be doing them with Millie. He figured he needed to work, however, so that Millie had a home when she got back. So that Millie could have a wedding.

So that they could have a family.

Steve slurped down his coffee and threw the empty mug in the sink, along with the rest of his dishes which were piling up into a mountain. He kept saying he'd get around to it in the future, but he never did.

Steve moved to his desk and picked up his pencil, which he left on his desk yesterday after his sketch. He was finishing off a piece for the police, which was proving to be quite difficult. He'd much rather be drawing Millie. Which is what he did all the time. He wanted to remember her beautiful face, so he taped his drawings up around his house.

Just as Steve was starting to get into a good flow of writing, a knock sounded on his door and he let out a huff, thinking it must be Bucky, come to try and force him out to 'take his mind off things', like he attempted almost every morning.

Steve slowly pushed out his chair. Taking his sweet time and stretching. The knock sounded again and Steve rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Buck, I'm coming!" He called out, dragging his feet through the house.

He slipped the chain from his front door and creaked it open. "What do you wa-oh..." Steve was cut off by the fact that it wasn't Bucky standing at his door, but instead, a western union messenger.

"Steven Rogers?" The messenger asked Steve nodded. "I've been sent to deliver you a telegram."

Steve swallowed harshly as tears filled his eyes. He knew what it was before he even had to look at it, he knew who these messengers were because he'd seen them ride around on their bikes through the streets, delivering wives and parents telegrams which were promptly followed by agonising wails of loved ones in emotional turmoil.