I kinda came up with this a few months ago. Might leave this as a one-shot or do a one-shot series. Please review. I want your opinionsssssssssssssssssss. Leave a like, anything is appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANTHING EXCEPT FOR PLOT.
.
.
They say life is 'not easy'.
'Not easy' was an understatement.
The life of Steve Rogers was excruciatingly painful.
They say try, you'll get through it eventually.
Steve tried and tried and tried.
Steve was tired of trying.
If nobody wanted Steve Rogers, then why bother changing their minds.
'I'll be Captain America,' he said to himself.
A mask of strategies, debriefings and battles.
He'll be Cap, Capsicle, Old Man.
It shouldn't be that hard, right?
Well, what if he found out that missions could be gone well without Captain America?
If nobody wanted Steve Rogers AND Captain America, then why bother living.
He was worn out, mentally and physically.
He was sinking and too tired to swim up again, this time.
So he asked himself.
'What if I let go?'
So here he was, on a rooftop, leaning against the ledge. He stared below at the concrete street.
There was going to be a lot of blood splattered there.
"Hey, you okay?" A voice asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Steve flinched in surprise and turned around. He saw a guy in red and blue, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling in the air. Steve recognized him. Spider-kid or something.
"What are you doing here?" Steve grumbled.
"Oh-uh I always come here. To- I get a better view of the area."
Steve nodded his head and stared out into the sky when Spider-man suddenly blurted.
"Wait! Oh my god! You're Captain Rogers! I did an essay on you, last year."
Steve lifted an eyebrow, amused, as the kid kept rambling.
"−have to do a lot of research on the 1940s this week but since you're here, could I ask you a few questions?"
Steve chuckled, "Sure, kid."
"Did you guys really call girls 'doll'? Were donuts invented at your time? I wouldn't know what to do without them in my life. Do you like donuts?"
Steve lips curled upwards at the boy's goofy antics. "Yeah, we did call them 'doll'. Donuts existed at my time, but I never really tried one before. Never actually had the time."
'Or the money,' he added mentally.
"WHAT! Oh my god! You're missing out a lot in your life. You know what? Let's go buy you one now."
Steve thought about it for a second. What does he have to lose?
They went and bought some. Steve just found out what his new favorite dessert is.
But most importantly, he found some hope.
.
.
.
.
.
.
However, hope does not simply stick with you at all times. It lingers, then eventually fades until you find it again. It's easy for some people; they'll find hope within a grasping distance. Others struggle; they search and search, returning empty-handed, but eventually they will find it.
Because even in the hardest times, hope can still be found.
It is never lost.
Just hidden and waiting.
But some people get tired of looking for hope and eventually retire from the search. Those can barely sustain a healthy life before giving up entirely on everything, anything, and nothing. But sometimes, in the last second, hope decides to come out of her hiding place and offers her help. She might come in the shape of words, or in a person, or just a memory.
Steve was at that point in his life, except there were no words, no person, no memory. He was stranded and all alone. Teammates keeping their relationship professional, fans only wanting a picture or an autograph, old veteran friends so damaged they can't go to the bathroom alone.
He truly was on his own.
Loneliness terrified him.
He wants friends. His old friends. And there was only one way to see them again.
He, this time, picked a much higher tower just….in case.
A light breeze danced around him, the moonlight shone right at him, and the streets were surprisingly almost empty. It was a Sunday night. Everybody was busy and tucked in their houses doing last-minute work.
Perfect.
Steve took a deep breath and stepped onto the ledge.
He's doing this to see his friends again.
He's doing this to stop bothering others.
He's doing this.
He will do this.
Captain America will be missed.
Steve Rogers will be forgotten.
1
2−
"Steve?"
Steve's breath hitched. No. No, not now. He recognized that voice.
"S-steve? Wha- what are you doing?" Spider-man's voice cracked.
The soldier burned his gaze into the concrete street.
"What are you doing here? Go," Steve gritted through his teeth.
"No." Spider-man replied, voice shaking but firm.
"You don't understand any of this," Steve snarled.
"I do. Please Steve, I- I know we barely talk, but I'm− I know it's not worth it. Don't give up." Spider-man begged, slowly inching towards him.
Steve sighed in frustration, "You don't fucking understand. I tried a million times. I did."
A heavy load landed on his chest as a lump formed in his throat, "I swear I did."
Hot tears stung the corner of his eyes. "I tried," Steve quivered in a small voice.
He reverted his gaze back on the street, then back to the vigilante.
Spider-man grabbed his mask and peeled it off his face, revealing a young 15 year-old.
The kid's disheveled curls, blood-shot eyes, trembling lips, shaking shoulders. It was too much to take in. Steve froze for a moment before slowly backing away from the ledge and closer to the boy.
"I-I…Fu−" Steve started, before falling onto his knees. He pulled at his hair as his body wracked with silent tears.
Spider-man knelt beside him, and crushed him into a hug. The teen was probably doing more of the sobbing part than Steve, but the man still held onto him.
"You're s-so young," Steve whispered, detaching himself from the boy. Not even in college, and he was just about to jump from a fucking tower.
Steve drew in a shaky breath and shoved his face into his hands as Peter placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I-I should've known…Last month, wh−when you were on the rooftop. W-were you going to…." Peter mumbled.
"W− honestly, yeah. If you hadn't swung over that night, I wouldn't be alive. And now, too." Steve murmured.
"Why?" Peter asked, his eyes still brimmed with tears.
Steve avoided his glance, "It's…complicated."
Peter lay on his back and stared at the stars, "We've got all night. I'm Peter, by the way."
Steve stared at the boy for a second, then lay next to him.
Hope came to help him.
Peter was his hope.