𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓹𝓲𝓽𝔂 | 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝓭𝓪𝓱𝓵𝓲𝓪

The first time Steve sees (Y/n) cry, he's struck by how much he's really grown to care for the girl over a period of just four months and how much he's prepared to do to see her smile.

Since the beginning of her new academic year, (Y/n) can't make as much time to see him as a consequence of her increasing workload, and Steve feels her absence in his boredom and increased alone time.

It's different from a few months ago, though.

Now, he isn't lonely even when he is alone. The Avengers' Tower (as it has been dubbed now) is too large for just the six of them (including Pepper Potts), but somehow, it doesn't feel empty. There's always something going on with one of them that ends up with all of them being dragged in, too.

Even when everyone else is occupied, Steve works on taking better care of himself.

He tries out new recipes, or he attempts to recreate the things he liked eating back in the 40s. He reads anything that catches his fancy, and makes use of J.A.R.V. I. S's extensive music selection. Steve sketches and paints, and allows himself to indulge in these little wants that make all the difference to him until he genuinely begins to think that he's okay.

Yes, Bucky's still out there somewhere, and it's killing Steve to know that his best friend is alive and hurting and just out of his reach, but Tony's assured him that his AIs are on the lookout for Barnes, and the blond knows there's nothing more he can do but wait.

But waiting can be a herculean task all on its own, and when he begins running out of distraction, Steve misses his young companion more than ever.

Natasha pulls him aside one morning, right after breakfast when they're discussing their plans for the day and he reveals that he's meeting up with (Y/n), seriously asking him if he's just using the girl as some sort of replacement for Bucky.

"Because she's not him, Steve," the redhead reminds him, her voice barely above a low whisper. "She'll never be him, and she deserves better than to be looked at as a replacement. You know she does."

"I know that," he says faintly, eyes widened slightly as the thought hits him- what if he's unconsciously been seeing her as a temporary Bucky? That's unfair to (Y/n), and he's crushed under guilt at the very prospect, so he quickly shakes his head, firmly telling himself that (Y/n) plays a very different and important role in his life.

For a moment, Natasha eyes him searchingly, and then she nods and steps back. "Alright," she accepts. "Don't forget it, though. I know you're desperate to find Barnes, but don't project that onto (Y/n)."

Steve doesn't think he'd do that, but he reminds himself again, just in case.

(Y/n) is not Bucky.

He knows that. Of course, he does. And he doesn't want her to be, either. Bucky is his childhood best friend; the most important constant throughout Steve's life. (Y/n) is the girl who teaches him how to heal- the one who brings him flowers and leaves paint stains on his journal.