oblivion. ▷ captain america. [1] •••DISCONTINUED•••

xxiv ▷ not exactly home.

T W E N T Y F O U R

24. | not exactly home.
some people, even those who own
a house, do not have a true home

steve.

•

GETTING MYSELF to DC is my next goal. After taking all of the boxes to my new apartment, I truly had to say goodbye to New York. I wouldn't miss it too much; I didn't really like all of the hustle and bustle up there. Despite Brooklyn being there, I knew it wouldn't be the same. I've driven through some of it, and that seemed to be the case within two blocks. So I decided then it didn't really matter where I went. I chose the most convenient spot for work and went there.

I drive my motorcycle through the city just to get a glimpse at my new home. The sun is just going down and the lights are twinkling on. Even though it is dusk, there are still interested tourists everywhere. They pose and take pictures in front of monuments, point and awe at the White House — maybe that's one thing that hasn't changed here.

I decide to make a detour past the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, just to see what's happening there. A handful of people walk around, staring into the still water. They walk all the way down to the memorial itself, where Abe Lincoln sits inside. This might be a good place to run in the morning, considering how dead it is at night and the abundance of free space.

The engine of my motorbike churns back up once I speed away from the attraction. After stopping at stoplights and stop signs and making a few turns, I get home. I can still hear the horns honking from the city as I enter the apartment complex. My footsteps pitter-patter as they bound up the stairs to my floor. The hallway is completely empty, not that there are many people usually out and about anyways as I have noticed. I find my door and dig for my key in my pocket. After I jiggle it a few times in the door, ready to enter, the door behind me opens.

"Hi," a female voice says.

I whip around swiftly, still shocked by seeing someone. It's a woman with blonde hair and brown eyes. She wears pink scrubs and a small smile. My neighbor is a nurse.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologizes shyly, brushing a lock of windswept hair behind her ear.

"No, it's all right. I just didn't expect anyone to be out at this hour," I say, smiling back politely.

"Oh, well, I have noticed, even despite your accurate observation, that you're new here," she mumbles, leaning against her doorframe.

"Yes, ma'am," I answer. "This is my first night here."

"Well, I wish you the best of luck in the city," she replies sweetly. Her dark eyes dart down to the floor and back up to me. "Kate," she says.

I nod. "Steve."

"Nice meeting you, Steve. And welcome to the neighborhood."

"T-Thanks."

She turns slowly, giving me one last grin over her shoulder before heading back into her apartment. She seems nice.

I shift back towards my door on my heel and turn the door handle, entering my apartment. I inhale a deep breath. That was an awkward conversation. Couldn't I have been a little more talkative? Why didn't I say more? My first shot of making friends, and I screwed it up. Great first impression. But I don't think she recognized me. Kate seems like the average woman, so if she knew........

I push the anxiety out of my head, flipping the light switch. I'm greeted by the boxes. I just stand there for a moment, pondering whether or not to start unpacking since I'm probably not sleeping any time soon. I shrug my shoulders and open the closest box to the door. I peel the tape off the center, not needing a knife, and open it. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I pick up my old record player that I found shopping for things to put in my new place. I set on an empty table, hooking up and grabbing a record in the box to play as I unpack. I carefully lower the needle, making old swing music softly play.

I open another box containing dishes and listen to the music as I set cups and plates inside cupboards. It reminds me of old times, just being carefree and innocent. I remember Bucky and his date of the day would go to the center of the room and dance the night away while I stood there awkwardly with "my date." He would grin ear to ear as he twirled the girl and laughed once they collided again. Even through all the couples there, I could only see them. No matter how much envy bubbled up in me, I just insisted that I wanted to wait for the right dame before I hit the floor.

I regret thinking that way.

When Gen told me she felt the same way about the whole topic, I didn't exactly feel alone, but it still didn't feel quite right. Even Peggy sat in the passenger seat of the car in disbelief as the same swing music played from the radio.

I remember I had a whole plan set up when I began to enlist. I would serve, hopefully not die, and then come back and start a life — but I never did, I wasn't able to. Even if I did happen to find a woman (that happened) and get together with her after the war (that did not), I didn't exactly think about the possibility of that not happening. I didn't think I would get that far in the first place, so when I had one step down I didn't think about the rest.

But that's all done and over with. It's 2012, not 1945, and I need to think about doing something with my life that is possible — saving people. Besides, with SHIELD taking up my time now I don't have any for a family or even stability in my life.

I lay out the last rug and hang the last picture frame on the wall before I take the needle of the record player off the record and hit the hay. As I change into more comfortable clothes, I get a glimpse of the clock — 3:42 in the morning. Hey, I might be a little of an insomniac, but it sure pays off since I'm almost done unpacking my stuff. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I sigh and close my eyes, trying to make my mind shut up. For once it obeys, and I drift off into a short but refreshing sleep.