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"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you keep going away? Why do you disappear?"
"So that I can keep coming back to you."
"Why don't you stay?"
"Then how would you miss me?"
"I miss you every second I can't touch you, feel your presence beside me, with me."
"Aww that's too sweet but that's your very romantic artist side talking."
"You know it's the truth. Do you really wanna measure my love?"
"No. Never."
"Why not?"
"You measure what you doubt. I don't doubt your love for me. I don't doubt you. You're my universal truth. The one I trust blindly."
"Love is blind after all!"
"Yeah otherwise how could I love your ugly mug?"
"Hey!"
"Aww don't get mad. On second thoughts, do get a little mad. You've always looked cuter with a bit of anger painted on your face. Goes well with your blonde locks."
"You know what goes with your dark locks?"
"What?"
"My golden ones."
"See when you talk like that you really make it difficult for me to not hug you."
"Who's stopping you?"
"Awright, come here soldier. Your 6'2" huge mushy frame is getting a hug from me."
"God, you smell so...so...."
"Bad?"
"No,...so familiar. Like petrichor, one of a kind really. I never could put a finger on what actually you smelt like. It feels like...."
"Hmm let's see, like the smell of my regular cheap ass detergent jumbled with a bit of mud, dust, worn out wool of my uniform, that same old boot polish I use every damn day, like the soot from the ever expanding number of cars on streets,
like the gunpowder left on my hand from too much use...."
"No stop. Don't bring that into this. I'll tell you what, you smell like my ma's special Christmas pie, like the fireworks from 4th of July, like the scented candles on the table of that psychic's shop we visited after sneaking out from school, like the shells we collected from Rockaway beach, like the breathing streets of my city. You smell like my home. You smell like Brooklyn....hey are you okay? Are you crying?"
"You missed something."
"I feel like I did but I don't really know what...."
"Snow. I smell like snow don't I?"
"Ye..yeah yeah...I think....yeah...but...but...."
"It's okay Steve....It's okay...."
"Oh God Bucky, please, don't go please please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't save....Oh God...please...."
"Steve, I'm forever in your memories babe, I'll be with you for this eternity. But you gotta let me go. Whenever you need me, I'll come. I'll come to you with a bit of heaven. I'll come back."
"You promise?"
"I promise punk, I promise. Now wake up. I need you to wake up babe. For me. Please wake up."
Steve wakes up to a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers game playing on the radio. It's a game from 1941. It's the one Steve attended with...him...with him.
The world needs Captain America and that's what the world will get. Captain America.
Steve Rogers? Well, Steve is trapped somewhere in that Stark Expo in 1940. Asking Bu...asking him to be careful.
"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."
"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."
What wouldn't he give to rewrite history, what wouldn't he?