[ open ]

[hairington]

Who: steve and you
When: july-august
Where: nocwich, horizon, solvunn, etc.
What: steve is forcing himself back into some form of life/routine, at least he hopes so
Warnings: n/a

Comments

[hairington]

[ steve has been trying. he wouldn't go as far as to say he's better, or even really good, but he has been trying. has been getting up each day, been getting his work done, been putting on his best face and telling everyone it's fine, been eating, too, even when he doesn't want to.

the only issue is that it has started to feel like these normal things, these things that shouldn't take any effort at all, take a lot more out of him than he really wants to admit. he turns in easy most days, sleeps in most others, gets through the day but doesn't have energy for much else.

and the heat doesn't help - summer seems to have settled like a thick blanket over solvunn, and any energy that steve might have built up feels like it melts away into the heat. he'd made his trek to the treehouse a few days prior, when the heat hadn't broken even in the middle of the night and steve had hit his own breaking point. he'd let eddie know he was going to be gone for a few days, something that become somewhat normal since that night, and left. the treehouse, for all the memories it holds, is the only place steve really has felt like he can let go as of late - his haven, his escape.

which of course means that he has a favorite spot, a bed he's picked out for himself and a corner he takes to every time he comes by. he knows wanda can sense (or whatever) him whenever he arrives, so he doesn't usually feel the need to come find her, instead grabbing a snack if he happens to feel hungry (rare, but more often lately than before) and settle himself in the bed.

he's not quite asleep when she makes her way into the room, aware of her stepping inside and the slight shift of the mattress when dot settles on top of him. he listens as wanda reaches for something, as she makes it up the ladder, and then feels the pillow and weight as she settles against him. without meaning to, or even thinking about it, he lets out a kind of sigh - content, tired, relaxed - as one of his hands lifts just enough so that he can scratch dot behind her ears. ]

Mmm. [ he agrees, shifting ever so slightly so that the new bodies in the bed settle comfortably in the blankets he's tangled up in. ] Hard to stay awake.

[carmesi]

( wanda can tell; steve is struggling to hold onto the vestiges of his waking mind, though wanda and the cat's intrusion alike has jolted him to be more awake than he was, initially.

and she wouldn't mind, really, if he decided to sleep.

there is so much time in solvunn for them to do as they like with it, and steve is still grieving. all that sadness and anger takes a toll, makes one exhausted as it drains one from their energy. for that reason alone, though, it feels heavy in this room. wanda can feel those heavy emotions clinging to her skin, peeling from him.

it has been a few days, and while wanda understands, she also doesn't want him to waste away in inaction. she herself has been there before.

she shifts her weight, but doesn't otherwise move from her spot. )

You've been sleeping a lot.

[hairington]

[ moments like this have felt weirder as time has gone on. moments that almost feel like home, almost feel familiar, but that steve knows aren't. wanda stepping into the room, alone, feels like a memory. a smaller steve, hiding under the covers up in his bedroom, avoiding the rest of the world and his mother, in one of her softer moments, coming up to ease him out.

it's been years since that was a reality, even for steve, but he finds his mind lingering on the image anyway. wanda's weight on him is really all that keeps him up, instead of tucking back into the warmth, the comfort of the cool air and the sun. steve would sleep in this room for months, might if he's allowed to, but judging by wanda's presence, that's not in the cards for much longer. ]

'm tired. Not missing much. [ a pause, a breath. a part of steve knows that this isn't good for him, that he can't hide here forever.

but god, he wants to. ] You come to kick me out?

[carmesi]

( they could keep this illusion up that she is here simply in part to annoyingly push herself into his space, while offering some amount of comfort, and ignore entirely that she is here for other reasons—those being more along the lines of trying to push him out of this state he finds himself in.

it's the question that does it, and so wanda sits up.

she stays close, though, and quiet for a while; this very scenario reminds her of herself and pietro, positions interchanged between the twins, those first endless months after they became orphans, one sitting on the bed while the other laid down with grief too heavy. that was then, and this is now—life is so cyclical.

wanda puts a hand to steve's arm, turning her head down to look at him. her touch is tender, thumb rubbing lightly over the top of his sleeve, just so she knows he's aware of her and doesn't drift off to sleep. )

I miss him too, Steve. ( her lips tighten into a smile. ) I miss you, too.

( letting himself be swept away into trying to ignore the world and, thus, his feelings means that he's disappearing from everyone else around him. he doesn't have to be okay, he just has to be. )

...I wanted to go through the things in his room.