Steve's Diary

December 20, 2024

Dearest Diary,

I know it's been a while, or at least felt like it's been a while, since we've been home... well, actually, it has, hasn't it? God, it's been since well before Thanos that we've both been here together and it feels so surreal.

He's what I've been missing, and I see it now. He makes this place feel like home.

—————

He chuckled to himself the moment we walked through the door. I looked over at him in confusion, but he never once looked back. He was focused on something that was, apparently, much less obvious to me. The smiled never fell from his face, though, and that's something I truly needed right now, even if I'd just realized it.

"What is it, Buck?" I wondered, kindly.

His teeth shone through his smile as he finally looked over at me and took my hand in his in a spur of the moment. "Homecoming," he mumbled, his eyes getting glassy as tears started to gather. "This is it, you know. This is what they picked that word for- the lack of, and hope, for their sake, that I never again feel, this very sensation." He looked around and took it all in. "It smells the same," he looked back at me, blinking away the tears. I nodded and smiled at his child-like wonderment.

"You missed it that much?" I asked.

He nodded. "I didn't know I could miss four walls and some furniture from the '20s like this, yea. It's like I stepped through that door and I stepped through time, almost a hundred years worth, for that matter."

"Yea," I agreed. "I kept everything the same as it's always been in here hoping to preserve that feeling. And, trust me, it never really goes away."

"Good," he turned to me and grabbed my face. "I love you."

"I love you more," I replied. He smiled and pulled my lips into his.

"Where to start?" he began. "What's to do?"

"We just got here," I chased after him as he started wandering around seemingly aimlessly. "Where the Hell are you going?"

"I'm looking around," he plopped down on the couch and looked at the television. "Does that old thing still work?"

"It does, believe it or not," I answered, playing his little game.

"Damn, we'll have to watch one of the three available, black-and-white channels later, then," he decided for me, standing and making his way happily to the kitchen. "I am more surprised that this table is still standing than anything else I've ever seen in my God given life, and, so help me, I've seen plenty of unimaginable things."

I pulled out one of the rickety, white-peeling-paint chairs and sat in it. "Holds up about 240 pounds, too."

"Well, good God, that is- I'm in awe, truly," he smirked before nodding for me to follow him again. He walked up to mom's room first.

"I still miss her," I commented.

"Me too," he added with a sympathetic smile. "I don't think that feeling of missing someone you loved and lost ever really goes away, though, Steve."

"I know, I know." After a moment, we walked out of the room that I hadn't even unlocked since the '30s and into my old room.

He laughed. "There were so many incredible memories forged here."

I walked in fully. "I know, I've never forgotten them, either."

He turned around and faced me, walking at me and pushing the door shut behind my back as it hit the wood with a thud. "Neither have I," he whispered. "Remember that first time I did this to you right here in this very spot?"