Authors Note
I've wanted to write a short fic about Steve for a while now, I don't think there are enough fics out there about his artistic talent. I've only written this short chapter, if people like it I will continue writing it so don't forget to leave feedback and let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy it.
Paint Away The Sadness
(Chapter 1)
Steve lay alone on a bed in his apartment, gazing up at the ceiling in deep thought. The room around him seemed almost completely empty, filled with only the few belongings he owned, all of which could fit into one small suitcase. There were no fancy gadgets or gizmos; of course Stark had insisted when the room was being built that the latest devices in modern technology were a must have if the captain wanted to keep up to speed with the modern world; but Steve disagreed entirely.
He didn't want a room filled with contraptions he had no use for or couldn't understand, technology had moved on so much in the past 70 years he wasn't sure if he would ever catch up with the latest development's and discoveries. Rogers liked to keep things simple, so Stark finally gave in with trying to 'pimp' Steve's room and settled with providing a few basic pieces of equipment.
A small radio and television (which he still hadn't touched), and a few furnishings, a bed and sofa- nothing fancy. At first everyone seemed adamant with the idea of creating a 40's style room to make him feel more at ease, he politely declined the suggestion. He didn't want to live a lie, living in a fantasy world where he tried to convince himself that nothing had changed and everything was just as he remembered. Just like the fake hospital created by shield he remembered when he woke up.
It was painful to accept the future, forget the past and move on, but it was something he needed to do.
He just wasn't quite sure how.
Moving into the newly built Avengers tower after the Chitari attack a few months ago was the first step Steve took in trying to move forward with his life. Everyone seemed surprised that he had accepted the billionaire's offer of a place to stay, after all it was no secret that the two of them didn't exactly see eye to eye. But he didn't really have anywhere else to go and the thought of heading back to a small, shield issued apart alone didn't seem very appealing. He needed time to settle down and try to get use to his new environment, and Steve couldn't think of a better alternative.
The captain spent most of his time in the gym, punching away his frustrations. He'd tried to get outside and explore the sites of New York on more than one occasion, but each time found himself feeling lost and overwhelmed by the noisy chaos. The sheer volume of people was enough to make him feel dizzy and uncomfortable. Perhaps one of the busiest capitals in the world had not been the best place to start.
He spent nearly every hour of the day exercising; he had nothing else to do, not like the others.
Stark and Bruce had science to keep them busy, their minds were always buzzing with new thoughts and ideas that they could bounce off one another. The two rarely ever surfaced from the labs they were working in because they were so caught up in their latest project. Undeniably they made a great pair. Agents Barton and Romanoff were also rarely seen. Shield supplied them with an endless line of work that kept them engaged, and when they were around they spent each moment in the other's company, they had a history and clearly a strong bond between them that was impossible to break. Thor was many worlds away, no doubt concerned with Loki's punishment for his actions.
And Steve?
He had nothing.
He'd fulfilled his actions as team leader during the invasion and now Shield had no use for him, not that it surprised him. After all what use was a man out of time to anyone else?
He often questioned his decision to stay with the other Avengers at the tower. He was grateful for Starks generosity, but sometimes he felt unbelievably lonely and isolated.
The few times the Avengers socialised together, mostly watching a movie or getting dinner, Steve felt like a gate crasher at a party. It frustrated him that he was unable to join in on conversations about even the most trivial things like movies, books or even the news, so he stayed quiet, trying to take in as much information as he could. He longed for knowledge and answers but was reluctant to do so, afraid that the others would become irritated by his endless questions.
He learned that Bruce was the most approachable, calm and all too happy to explain things to him in great detail, in a simple way he could understand easily. Rogers found himself grateful for the man's patience. Clint and Natasha graced him only with quick, short answers. That only left Stark, who was of no help at all. The man joked at teased Steve to no end about his lack of education on the modern world and cracked jokes about his age and lack of intelligence compared to his own. The few times he did answer the captain could never tell if he was joking or being serious, leaving him confused and puzzled.
He felt like a nuisance.
He really wished Thor was still around. They may have nothing in common, but they both shared the same bewilderment and uncertainty for the world around them. But now Thor was gone, leaving Steve to solve the mysteries of Asgard on his own.
Everyone else was busy and Steve was just hanging around like a lost sheep, which is why he currently found himself lying motionless in his room, thinking about his new life in the modern world. After spending endless amounts of time exercising and wondering the city Steve had concluded that he had reached an empty point in his life.
He felt tired and he didn't know what to do.
Steve was fed up with feeling disorientated every morning when he awoke from a dream. Sometimes he forgot where he was, waking in a blinding panic, unaware if he was in a dream or reality.
He lay still for hours on end, thinking about the friends he left behind all those years ago. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't think of Bucky or Peggy, wishing that next time he opened his eyes he would be back in the 1940's and this would all be a dream.
It wasn't healthy to think about it so much- he knew it, but he didn't know what else to do.
Steve needed something to do; something to occupy his mind, a hobby of some sort.
As he continued to gaze up at the ceiling, a strange feeling began to flow within him. He pictured his friends in his mind, remembering happy memories when they looked so peaceful and content. Steve was thankful for having a good memory that allowed him to remember their faces so well and every small detail.
It was at that moment when a strange sensation flowed through him, making him body tingle. As he pictured the bright, vivid colours in his mind his hand began to twitch, the feeling made his fingers itch to hold something and it grew stronger as he pictured the memories in his mind like still photographs.
Steve suddenly had the urge to do something that he hadn't thought about in over 70 years, a strong passion that had lived within him since he was a small child. He was swiftly yearning and itching to be creative, to recapture the thoughts in his mind and transfer them onto a canvas; where they would be safe forever and inerasable.
Steve Rogers had the desire to draw.