Three years later.
Williamsburg, Brooklyn NYC
The delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee, baked muffins, and pastries engulfed everyone's senses as they ate contently at their little tables scattered inside the little bakery, Brooklyn's Delights.
To everyone's dismay, the weather had turned snowy and a lot of the people that had been walking outside had run inside the little shop for temporary cover and warmth. While doing so, many settled for a warm snack as they took in the gorgeous display of goodies and the wonderful aroma. Each one paired with an equally warm drink as they warmed themselves up, collars pulled high, hats pulled low, and fingers tucked under long cotton sleeves.
The customers that were already inside the bakery stayed in their spot, looking out the window as the flurries turned into thicker drops of white flecks.
Darting an eye towards the entrance as it dinged once more, you ran behind the counter, shimmying your way between your friend Katie and Sammy. You never really grew as close to Sammy as you did to Katie over the years, but you two got along just fine.
The commotion around you grew louder as the snow got heavier. You thanked the heavens that your little apartment was only right down the street and that you wouldn't have to walk too much in this white shit the tourists call a wonderland.
You wiped your hand on your already dirty green apron that laid folded around your waist, with your other hand grabbing a mug, placing it under the nozzle of the hot chocolate machine. You then pulled the lever, the loud whirring sound of the machine mixing in the with the many voices inside the little bakery.
It was obvious it was getting more hectic than you could all handle, the line now doubling in size and zig-zagging around some of the tables.
"I need one caramel mocha latte," you threw over your shoulder to one of the girls. Next, you placed another mug on the station next to yours and poured some milk, "extra caramel."
"One caramel mocha latte coming up!" Sammy yelled over the sound of Katie's register closing and the hot chocolate machine, as she prepared her station and her ingredients.
"Extra caramel!" You shouted one more time.
Katie stood at the register yelling out different names and drinks and then charged the customers. It was obvious she was getting a bit overwhelmed at that she needed a hand.
Katie never really liked ringing people up, she was always best in the kitchen making the goodies that made Brooklyn's Delight what it was.
"Y/N, I got an additional order of three hot cocoas, mediums."
You sighed softly as you grabbed two cup caps from under the counter where you were working and put them on both of the drinks you had just finished preparing.
You signed the names appropriate on both cups before walking over to the small counter.
"I have a Sean and a Cindy?" You said loudly as your eyes scanned the crowd. You watched as people shimmied around and then two individuals passed in through the crowd to where you were standing. A tall blonde and a tall brunette took their drinks and thanked you before heading back over to the window to admire the storm.
You looked over at Katie and smiled sadly as she clenched and unclenched her hand while a customer prepared to give her another order.
"Katie, it's okay I'll take over the front. You can work station one."
The thankful brown eyes she gave you were sincere.
"Thanks, Y/N."
You let her pass you before you spun back around to take the order. A little boy stood in front of you, his hands gripping onto the counter.
A warmth filled your heart as you leaned down to rest your chin on your hand until you were eye level with him.
"And what can I get ya?"
"Hiya, I want a chocolate cookie, please."
You frowned playfully.
"You sure that's all you want?"
He nodded simply with a shy glance at you.
You smiled sweetly as you bent down to grab a wax tissue paper and then a cookie that was still warm. You knew that when he bit into it that the chocolate would still be melted and yummy. You put it in the little white paper bag and handed it to him.
You looked up at his mom that was standing right behind him, her hands on his tiny shoulders.
She smiled at you.
"That's all for us. We're just warming up a bit." She motioned slightly with her head towards the street.
"Not a problem." You told the nice lady the price of the cookie and she paid you.
The little boy dropped a dollar bill into the tip jar as he walked away, practically inhaling the cookie into his mouth. You thanked him enthusiastically and you smiled wide at him.
He smiled back - well as much as he could with a mouth full of a cookie crumbles.
You raised your head back up to ring up your next customer when you saw the last thing you were expecting.
Your breath seemed to have caught in your throat and a sense of fear entered your heart. You were caught off guard and not prepared in any way.
The eyes that looked back at you were questioning at first, a hint of surprise and a tickle of sadness in them.
You swallow nervously, involuntarily backing away a little from the register.
He wasn't supposed to find you, granted none of them were.
You had escaped, you had run away.
You should have felt horrified and like you had failed, but with him standing in front of you right now the way he was, you didn't realize how much you actually needed it.
You cursed yourself.
You should've known that Brooklyn wasn't far enough if anything it was a lot closer to Manhattan than your old home. But you had grown a liking to the city and you wanted to be as close as you could afford and without having to live anywhere near them.
The part of Brooklyn that you liked was still pricey, but you had settled on a small studio with a small balcony and a bathroom that almost never had running hot water. Sometimes you would have to wait a day or two just to have enough for a long enough shower. On normal days you would have to settle for lukewarm.
It was just over fifteen hundred a month, which wasn't bad for the area, but given the amount of space you had and the cost, after a little over a year, you were quickly regretting letting go of your own home.
But there was just something about New York that you loved, even if it was Williamsburg.
But you had taken all your extra measures you possibly could to cut that other piece of your life out - to forget him.
You had hoped that it would never find you ever again.
And yet here was a part of that old life, staring you dead in the eye.
"What would you like?" You said so simply, yet it held so much meaning. Your voice wavered and he took note of it as he raised a brow.
His mouth slowly went from a harsh line to a softer frown.
"A blueberry muffin and a small hot chocolate, please."
That voice.
"For here or to go?"
You had forgotten that voice.
At that moment, when you're opening the register to give him change, your face gets insanely hot. You feel like someone had just poured a bucket of hot water all over you.
It's hot because you remember the last time he saw you and the last time you saw him. It was shameful. And you had run.
You both knew you had run away.
And yet here he was.
You turn around to give Katie the order and you give the name along with it, without having to ask him for it.
You grab another wax tissue and a small paper bag. Bending down to your knees, you grab the muffin.
Making as little eye contact as possible, you hand him his bag and then politely tell him to wait on the side until it's finished. When you take your next customer's order, your gaze continues to drift over to him, only to find him already staring at you, confused.
You swallow harshly and you wonder if he was here alone or if any more of his friends came with him. Your eyes briefly go to the growing line of customers, trying to find any more family faces.
You wouldn't be able to handle it if they did.
You take their money, give money back, and then you do the same for the next customer.
Eventually, you hear:
"One small hot chocolate for here!" Katie shouts as she spins around, followed by the name.
You clear your throat as you watch him grab the steaming porcelain white cup.
You get a feeling in your stomach as he's spinning around and you don't know what it means or why it happens, but you follow it. Maybe it's the guilt, or maybe it's because underneath it all you knew you were secretly waiting for this.
You quickly run over to Sammy, a small hand on the back of her shoulder.
"I need you to cover the register for me."
"What?" She asks with helpless eyes.
"Just for a second. I'll have Kev come back here to help make the drinks between clearing tables." You say quickly as you untie the apron from around your waist.
You don't wait for her answer as you drop the apron on one of the dirty dish gurneys in the corner by the kitchen. Quickly, you eye out the head of hair you are looking for and you run after him.
You make sure to grab the arm that isn't holding the hot cocoa.
He turns around slightly startled until his eyes meet yours.
His brows furrow and his mouth opens slightly but no words escape them.
You take in a deep breath.
"Steve."
You don't give him time to respond before you're pulling him to a more private corner, closer to where you dropped your apron.
Sammy eyes you curiously from her work station.
You narrow your eyes up at him.
"What are you doing here?"
He furrows his own eyes at you before tilting his head to the side. He looks down at the steaming mug and then back at you.
"I'm having something warm. What does it look like?"
You nod, realizing how dumb your question was. But you both knew this was more than what you meant. He notices the nervous shuffling of your legs and when you look once more behind him.
"Is it just you?"
Your voice is small and timid.
He looks at you curiously.
"Yes, it's just me. Who else would be with me?" His voice is low, taunting.
You don't answer as you bite the inside of your cheek.
Steve sets his cup on the small table that luckily happens to be empty, probably because it was the one closest to the kitchen and he sighs as he looks down at it.
Your heart falls as you watch his face go from serious to visibly upset.
You knew it was coming.
He licks his lips briefly before looking back down at you with those sad eyes, those eyes that knew you broke his heart.
"What happened, Y/N?"
You breathe in sharply through your nose as you cross your arms across your chest. You have to look away from his blue/green eyes for a second or you would have lost it.
It reminded you of home, of what you had left behind.
His question is agonizing, and the answer to it fogs your mind. The answer was horrid. He couldn't know, no one could. It would die with you.
With you and...
You feel your face getting hot.
"One day you were there, and then the next," his voice is soft as if he's recollecting the story in his mind's eye. He sees the smallest of tears in the corner of your eye as your breathing becomes shallow, "You left."
You take a deep breath before making direct eye contact with him.
"I had to," you hope he doesn't catch the fear in your eyes as you watch him bring his brows together in genuine concern, "I needed a change. It was too much for me."
You add sharply.
"Too much for you? We were your friends. Your sister-"
"Look, Steve, I don't want to talk about that right now."
"I looked for you, Y/N. After you left; after you changed your number."
"Steve, please-"
"It just confuses me because I thought we had something special. You told me you weren't leading me on."
Suddenly your bottom lip is trembling.
"Look, I know what I did was messed up, I just, can we meet up somewhere to talk? Somewhere preferably that isn't my job. I live down the street."
He looks at you for an extra beat before nodding slowly. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket.
"When do you get off tonight?"
"Nine PM. I'll give you my number and address."
It had started out timidly and incredibly innocent. Neither of you was really sure of what kind of friendship foundation you wanted to build on, especially without any of your other friends involved anymore.
When you hung out with Steve, it would usually be the three of you. You, Bucky, and Steve. With Bucky now out of the way, it felt different and very tense.
Neither of you really touched the subject the first few weeks, not wanting to bring up that part yet. Steve wanted the intention of finding out from you that night why you had left, but it was just something about the way you looked sitting against the window sill of your balcony, the moons' light creating a gracious silhouette of your body that made him not want to know yet.
He wanted to take in these moments with you. For a short time, he wanted to just forget the bad and the ugly.
At the end of the day, he missed you.
You silently thanked him for this, thankful that he was able to see that even though you had run, it didn't mean you weren't somewhat grateful to had run into him today.
You both spent that night closed in, just talking about the last three years. You told him about how you decided to leave your old job because you felt like you wanted a different way of life, and how you sold your parent's home and kept the money in a savings account, untouched.
You told him the story of how you found this super small studio, but yet how it taught you that simplicity also brought you happiness.
He had looked at your little pull out bed in the middle of the room, a small plant next to it. On the wall was a bike, a few books were piled on the floor next to the plant, and next to the heater coils was the tiny kitchen.
"It's not the best, but," Steve looked up at you, brows perked and waiting. You smiled slightly as you took his hand in yours, "Come on, let me show you."
Steve let you drag him out of your front door. You took him to a dingy door down the hall and let it slam close behind you both. It was dark in the stairway and it smelled faintly of wet carpet. You both walked about five more flight of stairs until you opened the last door, it was metal and a little heavier than the first one.
The cold air hit the both of you and a gust blew the speckles of snow off the ground into your face.
Steve looked over at you and saw that you cared less as a bright smile came on your face. You walked forward, not caring that the snow was now up to almost your knees. You tugged on Steve's hand until he followed your gaze to where you were looking.
There, across the river, was the city. You could see the Brooklyn Bridge, the trade center, and the Empire State Building beautifully from where they were.
Steve's heart warmed at this. As he looked over at you, he could see that you really had tried to stay as happy as you possibly could with what you could. He was proud of you.
You both stood there for a little bit longer until the snow started to give you both the initial feeling of frostbites on your legs.
You were both walking back to your apartment when he said it.
"I don't work for him anymore. I left around the same time you did."
He doesn't know why he tells you that and you don't know what to make of it except that you're kind of thankful that that means fewer chances of running into him.
Over time, you two became great friends again. Steve ends up spending more and more time at your place. He'd watch you as you water your little plants, as you'd wipe down your kitchen, and when he would spend some time out on your fire escape. He would look over at you and you would be petting Pebbles as you read yet another new book that year. It was obvious you were running out of places to put them and Steve made a joke about how he'd have to buy you a bookshelf.
His favorite days were when he'd help you do your laundry. You didn't have one in your building, so you would go to the little laundromat about four blocks away. He'd help you take your clothes, he'd sit with you and tell you silly jokes as you waited for the clothes to wash, and then he'd help you fold them.
You had missed this. You were happy that you were finally able to talk to someone again.
Part of you regretted leaving them all behind so suddenly, but at the time, you knew that it was the correct thing to do.
You missed your friends dearly. You're in the middle of folding one of your T-shirts when you feel that feeling that you had been harboring down for a while come up your throat.
You remember that time in the car when the plastic straw had been stuck in Bucky's car. You remember his laughter, his hand on your wrist...
You didn't realize you had started crying until Steve's hand was on your forearm. You sniff hard and tell him you're fine, giving him a weak smile.
He hated moments like this- when you were both reminded that the past still existed and that something had happened.
You both forget it, and he helps you take your clothes to your apartment.
You're glad Steve never pried on why you left when you did. At least not yet.
This is why about two months into your newly built friendship with Steve again, you messaged your sister on a Sunday morning. You had remembered her number by heart ever since you were kids.
She had returned your message with a tearful phone call, where she claimed how much she loved and missed you and if you were doing alright.
Steve watched from afar on your little chair with a raised brow, curious as to how you would react to any mention of Bucky.
"We just started having holidays with his family now. Y/N, I would've invited you, but you just left."
"I know, Ash. I'm sorry, things got hard. But I made a living for myself for a bit which was nice."
"I missed you."
You always had strong dislikes for her attitude and for what she did to...him. But you always focused on your sisterly relationship. Once again, you hated having bad blood.
"I miss you, too." You say, your mouth in a tight line.
"As long as you're okay."
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."
"You should come to visit us. I know Buck's been weird, but maybe you can get by this."
"Look, Ash, I gotta go." You say quickly at the mention of his name.
Steve looks at you curiously and you avoid his eyes as you push a strand of hair behind your ear.
You knew he was staring into your back as you distracted yourself with making some ramen. And he knew that you knew.
The last three years for Ashlyn and Bucky had been a rollercoaster of emotions and changes. Eventually, Bucky had no choice but to stay at Ashlyn's side and take it all in the long run.
He fooling himself and being a damn idiot; it ended up going better than he had hoped.
Six months after they started speaking to doctor Banner, they had gone on a small road trip up to Vermont where they would spend a long weekend at an air BnB lake house.
The car ride there had been dead silent and tense, but for some reason, as the rain pellets began to hit the windshield and as Bucky sped of the winds-wipers, a feeling of longing hit him.
He began to remember the first few months that he and Ashlyn had dated, and he realized that no matter what she might've done to hurt him, that she had been doing nothing but trying to make it work ever since the wedding.
She really had, and he had been nothing but cold to her. Here she was attempting to make something out of nothing, and he was making it even more difficult.
He could divorce her, leave her behind with his money, he could say screw it and find someone new, but would it really kill him to just give it another try and see past the bad that she had done?
Banner had taught him that much the last few months if anything at all.
He had reached down for her hand, and she was momentarily stunned at first. He hadn't touched her in so long.
He intertwined their hands together and then brought the back of her hand to his mouth, kissing her softly there.
It didn't feel right to him, but he knew he had to make it feel right. He had to give it another chance.
He swallowed the knot in his throat as Ashlyn began to cry, her head leaning on the glass of the passenger seat window.
Bucky looked out into the dark highway as the rain continued, mixed in with her little sniffles. Her hand tightened in his.
"Ash."
"That's the first time you've touched me in five months," she sniffs loudly now, "I am sorry, Bucky, for everything I've done to ever hurt you. But we need to move on from it. We need to do better, be better. We need to try."
She pleads, tears running down her cheeks.
Bucky swallows hard as his left-hand wraps tightly around the steering wheel of his Audi.
Bucky wasn't fully convinced that you had betrayed him, he still loved you very deeply, but he honestly didn't see a reason anymore to try for something that was now so out of reach. When Wanda had found him in his kitchen, he had admitted to himself that even though you could've done all these bad things to him, that he still loved you. But he had to move on.
So, of course, he had to convince himself that you wanted nothing but bad for him and focus on that.
He had to lie to himself that maybe Ashlyn was telling the truth. Maybe they could try again.
"I can see that things between you and Ashlyn have gotten better."
Bruce had said.
"It's as best as things can get. You know I don't trust her, but I no longer have a choice either."
"You do have a choice, you don't have to be with someone just because you feel like you need to be. I know I'm you're marriage counselor, but do you in any way see any of this working out for the best? Forcing something out of trying to make things complicated?"
"We can try. You've opened my eyes to a lot of things I hadn't seen before. Maybe Y/N was trying to steal my money, maybe she fooled me into loving her so she could take it all, maybe she did this because she has something against Ashlyn-"
"Bucky, you know very well that that's not what I said. I told you to do what you felt was the best decision with all the facts that you have available to you, to come to your own conclusion about what you should do-"
"I loved her with all my heart and you know what she did to me-"
"I do, but-"
"She betrayed me, she did this on purpose. She's evil. Not one text, not one phone call. She's just gone."
"-You and I both know you had an emotional affair, that might've or might've not blocked your judgment, but it was for you to conclude-"
"-And I've concluded that she tricked me. I was a fool for thinking she ever loved me. I'm a changed man now, Banner. Now I know that I can't be as careless as I used to be."
"I think it's the guilt."
"Excuse me?"
"I think the reason you are trying to find these excuses, to make something work that clearly won't is because you know you messed up, and it's hurting you. You're hurting your marriage by keeping what you did a secret. Don't you ever think that maybe it would help if you just told Ashlyn the truth-"
"There's nothing to tell, Banner."
"You had sex with her sister."
Bucky sat there still as he breathed in harshly through his nose.
"You have to tell her."
He helped Ashlyn cook at the lake house. She had been reaching up to grab something off the top shelf when he saw the little bit of skin peek out from just under her t-shirt. He had walked up behind her, hands on her waist, and kissed the side of her neck.
They stood like that for a bit as they took in what was happening.
Like a silent mutual agreement, they had decided to give it another chance.
So what if Ashlyn wanted his money too, she didn't fuck him and leave. She wanted what he had but she also wanted him . She would never hurt him the way you had.
He had learned to become an ass, too.
By being too lenient, he had allowed himself to be fooled by you and he couldn't allow that to happen again.
After their trip, he quickly got rid of his Honda. He would deny the feeling of heartbreak in his chest as he saw it being driven away, he would refuse to replay the memories in his head that that car held - the memories of you.
He wouldn't admit that he missed you, that he still loved you.
He had picked up a new Audi R8 on his way home.
It was obnoxiously clean, fancy, and held no memory of you. It was empty, and it was exactly what he needed.
He had become the CEO asshole at work, too. One little slip and he was firing people left and right, even interns.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You don't know how to do anything, do you?"
The young intern looked up at Bucky in shock, his little hand wrapped tightly around the coffee cup.
"I asked for a small coffee, three sugars, and cream. Is it really that fucking hard?"
"No, sir, I'm sorry they only had two left-" The boy's voice shook as he attempted to defend himself.
"I don't give a shit. Get out of my office. And my building."
Wanda stood in the corner as she watched it all go down, watching as the young boy left trembling in fear and embarrassment.
All over a stupid cup of coffee.
"Can you please make sure he finds his way out? I don't want to see his face ever again."
"Yes, sir."
Wanda had her hand wrapped around the doorknob before she turned to look back at Bucky. He had an angry brow raised at her as he waited impatiently for her to do what he asked, and she took the courage she definitely didn't know she had to speak up.
"Can I ask something, sir?"
"Make it quick."
"What if I told you you weren't the only one looking for her."
The silence is unsettling and she watches as his entire act changes.
Bucky's eyes narrow at her.
He feels something deep in his stomach at Wanda's words.
"Are you trying to pry into my personal life, Maximoff?"
"No, sir-"
He can't breathe. Don't fall for it.
"Then get the hell out."
She feels hot tears behind her eyelids.
"I'm just trying to help you." She croaks before she turns around to leave.
You. Memories of you return to him in a flash. He feels that feeling again deep inside his chest.
His heart feels heavy again.
He feels it.
"Wanda, wait."
Wanda is trying to blink away heavy tears.
"Yes, sir." Her voice shakes.
Bucky sighs as he walks up to the door and closes it.
"Look, I know I've been a dick. You're my friend. Especially after that day," he takes a deep breath, "What do you know?" He whispers.
"I overheard Steve talking to Sam a while back," Bucky's face becomes concerned at this, "They know that you were acting weird on your wedding day because of her. It's not a secret. I just don't want this to blow up in your face later. Sooner or later it will all come out."
It was after the incident at the laundromat and after your phone call with your sister that Steve's mind started to clear a bit after seeing you for the first time in three years.
He'd made his way to your apartment around the time he knew your shift had ended, about a quarter to ten. He had texted you to let you know he was bringing some pizza over, that way you'd know to expect him.
He had run by the little Italian place around the corner you both learned not too long ago was pretty damn good. After living there for almost three years, you didn't once step foot into there, not really paying it much attention. After the first time you went with Steve, it was your go-to weekly.
Steve carried the plane pie in his right hand as he made his way into your building, glad that you left it unlocked. He closed it tight behind him and made his up to your studio.
The wooden stairs up to your floor were always creaky and constantly falling apart. Steve climbed them in surprise and a little bit of fear, worrying if one of the steps would collapse beneath his feet. He hoped the pizza would at least survive.
You had opened the door with a huge smile that lit up his heart and the both of you quickly dug into the pie as Gossip Girl played in the background. After arguing with Steve over what you both should watch, you eventually won and told him that he would love the show after he gave it chance.
Not even ten minutes in and he was already making fun of your choice of entertainment.
"Shut up! You haven't even given it a chance yet."
"It's giving me weird vibes. Something about the people in this show, doesn't it freak you out and they look exactly like our friends?"
You burst out laughing as a strip of the cheese dangled off the pizza and then off your chin as it slid down.
Steve smiled wide as he picked the dangling piece of cheese off your chin.
Your laughing dialed down as you both made eye contact.
Steve's gaze became serious as his smile slowly fell away. He let his hand fall into his lap, wiping it on the side of his jeans.
You watched as he placed his paper plate down between his feet and then clearing his throat.
"Steve?"
He looked over at you, his face now slightly fallen as he took in your pretty features.
But he knew he couldn't let that fog up his mind.
"Y/N, we need to talk."
"'bout what?"
He searched your eyes for any indication that you might've been bluffing, that you didn't know what he was talking about, but he saw none.
"About what happened three years ago."
At that moment, the atmosphere in the room completely changed. Your eyes became dark and he saw a look overcome your face that he hadn't before, not since that one day many years ago.
He knew he had reached a nerve, but he had to know.
"Look," he took your hand in his after you put your pizza down on the table, "I get that you wanted a change of pace, and I understand some of your motives, but I still don't understand why you left."
You looked down at your hands in his as you fidgeted with them.
"Y/N, I'm going to ask you, and I want you to be completely honest with me, please."
"How can I trust you?" It came out pathetically quiet, strands of your hair falling around the sides of your face in shame.
"What do you mean? After all we've been through and after all, I've told you about how I feel, you still think I'm not worth trusting? I would never hurt you."
"It's not that. I mean, because of them. I know they're you're friends, and I also don't want to hurt you."
"No matter what is true and what isn't, you can and you should trust me. Yes, it might hurt me deeply, but I'll still help you get through it."
You took a deep breath as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Steve follows your move, doing the same to your hair behind your ear. Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet, his gaze intense.
"Did something happen between you and Bucky?"
The air between you both become thick, palpable.
You don't respond as you continue to look down at your lap, afraid.
Steve's throat grows dry at the sadness he feels, the mere thought of you and his best friend together, but he needed to know.
"I know that you guys got close. I remember the way you guys interacted, and I know that he did care about you. But that's all I know."
You nod, not saying yes, but agreeing to talk about this.
"Did you guys," he takes a deep breath, "Did you kiss? Did you hook up?"
The last part comes out strained like he didn't want to ask.
You contemplate telling him the truth but you don't. You take a deep breath before looking up to meet his eyes.
"We kissed before the wedding, but that's all."
He stares you for a second as he thinks about your answer.
"Before the wedding? Well, that sure does explain a lot. How did this happen? Do you have feelings for him?"
"As you said, Steve, I guess we got too close. And, no, just a small crush."
"But you literally left everything behind, because of a crush-"
"I didn't want to destroy anything. I didn't want to be that girl."
"You know how I felt about you - how I still feel about you - and I told you to tell me the truth."
"But you're just such a sweet guy, Steve, I couldn't do that to you."
"So, you felt pity for me? That's what it was?"
"No, I just wasn't sure what was going on inside my heart, I needed to breathe. I didn't want to leave you and then regret it."'
"You're telling me the truth?"
You feel the pain in your heart, you want to tell Steve the full truth but you couldn't. You couldn't lose him, not when he was the only person you had right now.
So you lie.
"Yes."
"Does Ashlyn know?"
You swallow hard, "What do you think?" Steve looks down, "Huh? Of course not, I would never do that to her."
"And you don't think Bucky will?"
You think about it for a second before taking a deep breath and removing your hands from his. You run them through your hair as you let out a long breath.
"I don't know."
Steve nods. He didn't like that Bucky acted on his feelings by kissing you, but you told him it was a small crush. He understood that things like this could happen sometimes, so he decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. Though, he knew that if he saw Bucky anytime soon, that he'd punch him in the face.
What was he thinking?
Steve clears his throat once as he tries his best to now change the subject.
"I left the company around the same time you did. I didn't like the atmosphere anymore. Something was wrong after you left."
"Missed me that much, huh? I still can't believe you left."
Steve smirks.
"You know, Williamsburg works for you. It's boujee but calm."
You smile.
"I like it, but I might have to leave. I can't afford it anymore."
His brows furrow together in shame.
"I'm sorry."
You shrug your shoulder nonchalantly.
"Eh. I guess not everyone is lucky sometimes."
Steve thinks about like really thinks about. He knows it's his feelings getting in the way, and because of that for only a split second he thinks it's a bad idea, but then he sees your living condition, how you're both watch tv with your right foot almost out the fire escape and your left foot almost out the front door.
Obviously an exaggeration, but he knew you deserved much better.
"How about you come live with me?"
You look at him for a small second with a weird smile on your face, because you thought it was a joke.
"What?" His face is serious and you shake your head in disbelief, "Steve, I couldn't disrupt your life like that, plus what if-"
"I live on the east side, all the way across the island from the royal couple. You won't see them. Hell, I haven't seen either of them in three years. I'll put a decent roof over your head, I'll make you happier than you are right now, I'll even maybe see if my boss can offer you something simple and we can ride the train together. It'll be fun-"
Before you realize it, you've got your arms wrapped around his neck and he's holding you tight against him.
"Thank you so much."
"Anytime, Y/N. So is that a yes?"
"Yes, I would love to!" You hold him back tightly as you feel a long sigh escape your lungs like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulder, "I just, I do like where I work. I've been there long enough where they've risen my salary a bit. I'd rather stay there. Plus I like the atmosphere."
"Anything you want. We'll make it work."