At Hero's Bay

Human Holidays

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁...𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬

𓄹 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𓄼

Steve dreamt of a gossamer sky full of fire.

When he tried to scream, saltwater clogged his throat. His limbs weighed heavily as he thrashed, limpid bubbles disappearing into the esurient flames that roared in every blazing color. And Steve shuddered violently when he found hues that he couldn't recognize at all. Under the surface of this horrific abyss, Steve winced at the heat of the red sky fanning against his cheeks.

Steve closes his eyes, his pupils aching and glassy from the fierce light above. He was surprised he hadn't melted right there and then, but did not allow himself to thank this treacherous ocean for shelter. Not when it soon drowned his psyche—his very being.

He wriggled against the leaden pressure, and fear spasmed within his chest when he floated to no tangible destination that offered solace. Steve succumbed easily to the dread as vipers made of rancorous scarlet and shimmering gold coiled around his limbs, while a vehement canopy of wispy blue and white draped over his back like feathers. He thought it was his shield for a moment, but remembered otherwise when a searing pain lashed against his skin.

He did not know whether the blazing shapes meant to push him above the surface to burn or pull him deeper into the void, he did not know. And frankly, he could not care—what good would it do to fight a dream? All he could really do now was float and accept this horrible feeling that brought nothing but agony. But what gripped him by the ankle—dragging and grounding him from this phantasmal reality—was a pain that carved itself into his chest.

Steve awoke from his dream to Y/N's face looming over him.

He jerked up from his bed, his aching muscles pulled tautly and layered by a sheen of sweat. Steve almost couldn't believe that he had woken up at all. And when he sees Y/N standing at his bedside, blinking widely at him with astonishment, a laugh bubbles up to his throat but never passes from his lips. It was just a dream, he reassured himself, a terrifying one, at that.

"I made breakfast," Y/N finally says, setting down a tray of toast and eggs at his nightstand, "Are you alright? It seems like you had a nightmare."

Steve nods slowly, trying to steady the pace of his breath, "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Uh, what time is it?"

"This gadget—er, wristwatch says it's...six o'clock in the morning," Y/N reads aloud from a wristwatch that she holds up, "We're not late for something, right?"

Steve swallows thickly, shaking away the memories of his dream to remember his schedule, "Ah, no. No, besides attending a presentation...we have the day off."

Y/N furrows inquisitively at him, "Presentation...oh, right. It's about Earth, isn't it? Fury mentioned something about...catching up."

"Yeah, you and I have to be there if we want to move forward in this world," Steve sighs, sliding his legs off the bed, "Hope you take good notes."

Y/N pokes her tongue at him, "Of course. I studied thirty times more than you could in one lifetime."

"Of that, I have no doubt."

Y/N excuses herself quietly, leaving Steve to dress in casual attire that would be easy to move around in and remove to change into his suit. After such a nightmare, Steve struggles to decide whether to take part in or conduct drills with the other field agents. It doesn't matter, Steve begrudgingly decides, I'll be sore again tomorrow. As he stares down at the yolk of his sunny-side-up egg, he finds himself perturbed by his memories' lucidity again, practically stabbing his knife into the sac that gushed bright yellow. It takes him longer than usual to finish breakfast, and he relays his apologies to Y/N, who is still waiting outside his door.