The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

62

It was an overcast day. The once blue sky was flooded with grey clouds, creating a dim hue - it wasn't dark enough to need any lights, but it was definitely a contrast to the sunny day that occurred yesterday. It fit the mood for the heavy day ahead.

Today was the day y/n was going to visit his hometown. The place where he was born. The place where he would've grown up if it wasn't for Hydra. Y/n didn't know how to feel about it all. The mixture of nightmares and nerves left him with not much sleep, constantly stuck in his head. Bucky sat with him all night, quietly talking to him about his school memories with Steve in attempt to get his mind off of it. He knew he wasn't properly listening, but Bucky didn't want him to sit in silence. Silence was a monster that they both knew too well.

That morning wasn't any better. The team met up to eat breakfast together in a nice little café, and, apart from ordering, y/n didn't say a word. Steve frowned at the sight of him just mindlessly pushing food around his plate, he hated seeing him like this. He missed his stupid jokes and teasing, they all did. But they all understood why y/n wasn't himself. He was in for a painful day, it wasn't really a time for jokes. Every now and again Bucky nudged y/n, making sure that he actually ate, which he did after he was reminded. The rest of the team had casual conversations over breakfast, but the void of silence that y/n left was still obvious. None of them blamed y/n for it, he probably had so much going on in his head. They'd all be acting the exact same if they were in his shoes.

Y/n was soon sat in a taxi, being driven through the fields and away from the city. Alone. Y/n had asked the team to let him go alone, not even allowing Bucky to sit in the taxi with him. He wasn't sure if he was mentally prepared to go alone, but it had to be done. It was his hometown, and he didn't want to burden anyone else with his sadness. Y/n took a shaky breath, picking at his nails out of nervousness as he stared out of the window. He felt sick to his stomach, his heartbeat loud in his ears as they inched closer and closer to a place he hadn't been to in years. He almost wished he had the team beside him now, just so he had hands to grab onto, to reassure him that it was all going to be okay.

The town was small and rural, surrounded by fields and farms. It was a small population of people - a quiet, tight knit community. The outskirts of the town consisted of small houses and winding paths, but as they drove closer to the town centre there were small apartment buildings and colourful shops selling produce and other homemade goods. There seemed to be little-to-no technology, a disconnected town, oblivious to the rest of the world. It was a nice place. A perfect place to grow up in. A perfect place that y/n could've grown up in.

"Thank you." Y/n murmured, paying the taxi driver before he climbed out of the car. Almost as soon as the car door clicked shut, the taxi drove off, leaving y/n alone on the cobbled path. He took a shaky breath, pulling his hood up in attempt to hide his identity - the last thing he needed was fans to bombard him. But he doubted they even knew who he was, they didn't seem to have any televisions. Y/n slowly reached into his pocket, pulling a few photos of the places he wanted to visit out of his pocket. Of course he could've used his phone, but these were the photos that he'd stuck on his map. It just felt fitting.

As y/n walked down the quiet streets, he almost felt numb. It had been over one hundred years since he had been in the town, and none of the people he walked past knew. The sound of a little girl squealing and laughing suddenly caused y/n to look up from the photos he was staring at. And, as he did, he locked eyes with a giggling little girl. Her hair was braided into two pigtails, her pink sundress and white socks were all dirtied up from playing in the fields. She held on to her mother and father's hands, squealing as they swung her up in the air every few steps. Y/n watched as she walked past, a sad smile on her face.

That could've been him. That should've been him. He should've been able to live happy and carefree. He should've been able to get all muddied up in the fields. He should've been able to have a childhood. But he didn't. He didn't have that perfect childhood. Instead he had tears and fear, completely alone from a young age. Too young to realise that it wasn't how life was supposed to go.

Y/n took a deep breath as he arrived at the first place that he planned to visit. His old apartment building. The place he'd grown up in. It still seemed to be an apartment building. Of course y/n wasn't planning on intruding on anyone's homes, but he just wanted to see his old family home. Even if it was just the outside. He slowly pushed open the door to the almost silent building, taking careful steps as he found his way toward the stairs. There was an elevator, but y/n wanted a genuine experience. The layout of everything was the exact same. Y/n remembered running up the same set of stairs that he was walking up, giggling as his father chased him up. It was all the same. Of course there were a few renovations due to the building being so old, but y/n didn't mind.

As y/n made his way up the winding stairs, a faint sound of music caused him to stop in his tracks. It was his father's favourite song. The one that he'd play every morning, and they'd dance around the kitchen to it. Y/n almost forgot to breathe, tears pricking at his eyes as he picked up the pace, almost rushing up the stairs so he could find the source of the noise. It was coming from the floor that he'd grown up on. Y/n quickly wiped at his tears before he stepped onto the floor. The door to his old apartment was wide open, the music coming from inside. Y/n slipped the photos into his pocket with a shaky breath, the floorboards creaking under his feet as he stepped closer and closer to the apartment. The inside of it just causing y/n to tear up even more.

It was a remembrance site. For him. There were barriers a few feet away from the door to prevent people from walking any further inside, with several informational signs set out to inform visitors. Y/n wasn't the only person there, there were several other visitors reading the signs. But none of them recognised y/n. Y/n took a deep breath, blinking the tears away as he glanced around the apartment. It was an exact replica of the apartment before it had been blown up. An exact replica. The main sign read 'Remembering the Little Sorcerer' in big letters, causing y/n to smile sadly. Nobody knew what he was, they just knew he was a supernatural being. His whole bloodline had been. There were pictures of y/n as a child with his parents, and articles detailing the times he displayed his powers without realising. Y/n read through every single thing, every informational piece, every article.

It was a bittersweet moment. He was so, so happy to see his old apartment and pictures of him, yet it also reminded him about how much he'd missed, all because of Hydra. His father's favourite song played on a loop, and y/n still knew all the words. He remembered how he'd stand on his father's feet and he'd whisk him around the kitchen, his mother smiling fondly from the doorway. He remembered sitting on the counter with tears in his eyes as his mother wiped at the cuts on his knees, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose once she was done. He remembered creeping out of his room after a nightmare, and catching his parents dancing together to a slow song - and, instead of scolding him for being up so late, they just let him join in on the slow dance.

His parents were so, so happy. They were made for one another. And y/n ruined it. All because he was a damn mimic. They died because of him. They died because he couldn't stop the bombs. Their fairytale lives cut short all because of him.

Y/n quickly shook himself out of his thoughts, wiping at the tears that had appeared on his cheeks. He needed air. He needed to get out of there. Y/n turned to leave, noticing a child staring at him. He was unsure if the boy had noticed the resemblance between him and the photos, or if he was just curious on why he was crying, but y/n just gave him a weak smile. He hurried back down the stairs and out of the building, taking deep breaths of the cool air in attempt to calm himself back down. His father's song still playing on loop in his mind.