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I hope you enjoy this chapter. Spelling makes are mine and one or two may have slipped through.
XX
Chapter 3
Holly watched the other children in the schoolyard over the top of her book. Their laughter and enthusiastic squeals of excitement were a sharp reminder of how lonely she was.
Nobody wanted to invite Holly to play with them. Nobody wanted the odd, awkward girl, with the broken glasses and the wild hair. The freak that wasn't quite the same as them. Though Holly was certain, nobody wanted to incur the wrath of Dudley and his gang by inviting her to play. Despite not being the smartest student in the class, Dudley ruled their class year with fear and his gang, and the rest fell in line.
The other children weren't openly mean to her, not in the same way that Dudley was, but they ignored her very existence unless forced to do otherwise. Usually when a teacher paired them up with her, though that was rare considering the odd number in their class. Though some of them did openly laugh when Dudley and his gang finally caught up with her.
Holly Hunting appeared to be an entertaining game to the unobservant or oblivious. Children being children chasing each other. Everyone had failed to notice it was always her that was being chased. They failed to notice it was always her that was knocked down, bloodied or bruised.
Thankfully, today she had tucked herself into the small gap between the school wall and the perimeter fence around the school. Dudley had no hope of trying to squeeze himself through the gap. It gave her somewhere safe to sit quietly and enjoy the book that Miss Evans had given her to read, while also keeping one eye on the rest of the playground and watch where Dudley and his friends were.
After another quick sweep of the yard to ensure everyone was where they were supposed to be, Holly returned her attention back to her book.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It wasn't the type of book her aunt and uncle would let her read at home. It's a story too close to the word she wasn't allowed to utter - Magic. Something her aunt and uncle were insistent didn't exist and even reading stories about such things made her a freak. Except Holly couldn't ignore her own dream adventure, where she had stepped through her cupboard door and found Steve and Bucky on the other side. Even though it had been a dream, it didn't matter. It had felt real, and it had made her want to read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe again. It made her want to step through her cupboard again tonight and see Steve and Bucky. Dream or not.
Nobody believed Lucy to begin with, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind, and they hadn't. Not that Holly had any intention of telling anybody anything. It would only incur her aunt and uncles' anger if she did, and that was the last thing that she wanted to do.
Lucy had still believed Narnia was real, even when her siblings didn't believe her. It was only when Edmund had stepped through the wardrobe himself; he believed. The voice whispered again, adding fuel to the flickering flame of hope inside her chest.
Not that Holly wanted to share Steve and Bucky with Dudley, or anyone, really. It had been her dream, after all. They were just hers.
Maybe all I need to do is believe and I will have the dream again.
The thought offered her a slight comfort, and one she would desperately grip tightly to, not ready to extinguish the hope she had hidden within her heart. Even though the smart thing would be to forget, the smart thing would be to pretend she had never had the dream. Never even heard the names of Steve and Bucky. Because uttering them just once in front of her aunt and uncle was likely to get her in more trouble than her hair growing back did.
Or just as much trouble, she mused.
Holly pushed the thought aside as she turned the page in her book, slowly soaking up the words on the page. Lunch was almost over and they would soon return to the classroom, and whatever activities the afternoon would bring them. She just wanted to finish this chapter before the bell rang.
XX
Steve eyed the cupboard.
It had been two days since Holly had appeared in his room by stepping out of it, only for her to return to wherever she had come from hours later, by stepping back through the door.
Had it not been because Bucky had seen her as well, he would still been convinced that he had imagined the whole thing. Except Bucky had seen her and had talked to her. It offered him small comfort to know that he hadn't lost his mind. Though Steve couldn't ignore that the whole thing raised questions he had no way of answering, at least not right now.
He glanced at the cupboard again.
For the last two days, he had done nothing but jump at every creak and squeak and stare at the cupboard, as though he was trying to work out what had happened in the first place and will it to happen again. The creak of the floorboards when his mom crossed the hallway to her room had him eyeing the cupboard, expecting Holly to step out at any second. The tiniest flicker of light through his window that landed on the door had him blinking to capture a glimpse of that strange light again that had filled his room, in case it was Holly returning.
And yet nothing.
His cupboard stayed a cupboard when he and Bucky opened it, and the door remained shut after they closed it.
Steve let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. Two days wasn't a very long time when he thought about it, even though being stuck in bed made it feel like an incredibly long time. His strength was returning, his cough easing, and his breathing was a lot clearer. It no longer felt as though a weight pressed down on him every time he inhaled.
Should he continue to improve, he hoped he could return to school by the middle of next week at the latest. Earlier if he could convince his mom he was better sooner. He hated how easily his body betrayed him. Hated how frail he was. Steve knew he shouldn't complain too much, but there were days when he felt as though he would never really live up to his full potential because of his ailments.
He opened his eyes, determined not to feel sorry for himself any more than he had allowed himself to already do so. Steve knew that despite everything, he was still one of the lucky ones, and he would continue to keep fighting every day if he had to prove he was just as good as everyone else, despite how the world perceived him to be.
Tired of the fact that he had been bedridden for the last five days, he slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his desk and switched on the small lamp his mother had saved for him. Steve turned to a blank page in his sketchbook and started sketching.
Art had always been something he enjoyed, a way for him to escape into his imagination and not hindered by his limitations when he was ill. He lost track of how long he sat there, lost in his drawing, as he brought the memory of Bucky and Holly playing cards on his bed to life on the paper.
Bucky's carefree expression as he laughed, the smile that had crossed Holly's lips as she relaxed with them and did not look worried that they were going to hurt her.
"Steve, sweetie, don't stay up too late," his mother called through his bedroom door.
"I won't." He promised, turning around in his chair as he called back, only to freeze as he caught sight of the cupboard door glowing.
His heart raced against his chest and his breath seemed to get stuck in his throat as he waited with bated breath.
Was this it? Was Holly going to step through any second?
The cupboard door opened by itself, just a fraction, the white light blinding him for a second before fading to nothing. Seconds later, Holly stepped through, eyes wide in surprise, uncertainty across her face as her gaze swept across the room and landed on him.
"This isn't a dream."
Softly, he chuckled. "No, I don't think it's a dream. Whatever this is, it's very real."
Holly blinked at him, before a small smile crept across her lips. "I wanted it to be real, but my aunt and uncle always tell me things like this couldn't possibly be real. I thought I was dreaming. But I wasn't asleep. I was awake, and the light appeared again."
Her words tumbled out one after the other, fast and barely pausing for breath. As though she was afraid if she didn't speak them now, she wouldn't ever be able to speak them.
"Well, we would all be dreaming the same dream if that was the case, and I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be dreaming about being ill in bed," he said, giving a small smile.
Steve watched as Holly moved cautiously closer to him, peering over his shoulder to look at what he was drawing.
"That's me and Bucky," she said, though he could hear the surprise in her voice. "That's good. Do you like drawing?"
"It helps me pass the time and doesn't take much energy." He admitted. "I find it relaxing."
He still had room to improve, to get better, but Art was his best subject, and didn't require him to do much to catch up when he missed school.
"I'm not very good at drawing. Neither is my cousin, but my aunt always tells him his drawings are amazing. They are nowhere near as good as yours."
Steve chewed on his bottom lip before reaching for another piece of paper and pencil and pushed it closer to Holly.
"I can show you how to draw. If you want me to?" He glanced at Holly, before his gaze darted back to the paper, and back again.
Holly beamed at him, her smile bright and excitement danced in her eyes. Steve smiled back at her just as wide, no longer afraid that she wouldn't want to spend time with just him.
"Will I be able to draw as good as you?"
"Even better if you practise." He promised. It wasn't a lie. Holly could very well end up drawing as good, if not better, than him if she wanted to put the work in.
Holly shook her head. "I don't need to be better; it would be nice though if my drawings looked like they were supposed to."
Steve scooted over enough on the chair to give Holly enough room to slide on next to him. He couldn't help but notice that together the two of them easily fitted on the chair, nor could he ignore the deep dark bruises that decorated her left wrist, which she effortlessly hid underneath the large jumper she was wearing. He ground his teeth together hard, inhaling sharply as his body tensed. She had been cradling her left arm two nights ago, careful of moving it too much. Was this the result?
Questions whirled, and it took everything in him not to ask them. To not charge in first, like Bucky often said, he did.
He hated bullies. Hated people who thought they could hurt others, and nobody would say anything about it.
"Steve?"
He blinked, surprised to find Holly staring up at him, frowning, as she nibbled at her bottom lip.
"Sorry, Holly. Lost myself in my thoughts for a moment."
His voice sounded rougher than he liked, the words like sandpaper on his tongue. He wanted to ask, and he would, he would, because Steve needed to know who he had to keep her safe from. But not right now. Not when this was all so new, and he didn't want to make her afraid of him.
"Okay, what do you want to learn to draw?"
Holly looked at the blank piece of paper in front of her before glancing back at him.
"Could I learn how to draw people like you?"
"It will take time, more than just tonight, to get it right."
"I don't mind, that is -." Holly chewed on her bottom lip. "If you don't mind teaching me."
Steve smiled. "I don't mind. I just wasn't sure if you wanted to do something just for tonight."
"I can keep practising and when I come back, I can show you and you can keep teaching me."
His chest tightened. When I come back. She'd come back a second time, it was possible that she could come back again, and while neither of them was questioning how she had once again appeared in his bedroom, that it could happen again, brought a small smile to his face. Steve would like for it to happen again.
"I would like that." He mumbled.
Holly smiled.
"Where do I start?"
Steve lost track of how long he went through the basics with her. Starting small, showing her how to start with basic shapes that could be turned and changed into the angles and curves of a body. They didn't get too far, but with everything he drew, Holly copied several times before moving onto the next part. Soon, the piece of paper he had given her was filling with practised sections of a face, a shoulder, a body. None of them were perfect, none of them looked like a specific person, but Holly didn't seem to mind and instead pushed on with more determination than he had expected.
As they both focused on their sketches, they chatted.
Steve learned that Holly's favourite colour was green, her favourite animal was a lion, though a close second was a wolf and she enjoyed spending time in the school library reading. He shared his favourite colour was blue; he loved dogs and as a treat, if he was well enough to go out, he and Bucky would get an Ice Cream Sundae and Brooklyn Bridge was his favourite.
"I haven't ever had an Ice Cream Sundae before."
Steve's gaze widened as he stared at her. It wasn't often that he had them, but he couldn't imagine never having tasted one before.
"How?"
Holly shrugged. "My cousin gets them all the time, but I'm not allowed. I -." Her knee bounced under his desk; he could feel the movements every time it knocked into his. Holly eyed his cupboard with a twist of disappointment on her face. "I don't think my aunt and uncle like me very much."
His breath caught in his throat. He bit on the inside of his lips. Confirmation of his suspicions. Holly might not have said much more, but she'd said enough. Somebody was hurting her, somebody at home, and Steve wasn't sure how he could fix that, not when he didn't understand where home was for Holly or how she was getting here.
It made him feel useless, and Steve hated that.
But this isn't about me, he reminded himself. Until he knew how to help Holly at home, all he could do was make sure she had somewhere safe when she came back here. An idea teased at his mind, a plan forming.
"How about the next time you come here, we can get an Ice Cream Sundae?"
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
Steve nodded, smiling.
"I would like that."
"We will have to drag Bucky along. I will never hear the end of it otherwise," he teased.
Holly giggled. "He's your friend. It's nice to have friends."
"We're your friends too now, remember?"
Her gaze widened again as she looked at him, and she smiled shyly, before her gaze darted back to the cupboard door, and her smile dropped.
"You don't have to go back if you don't want to," he offered, "Mom won't mind when we tell her why." Steve was sure of that, even if he wasn't sure exactly how he was going to explain how Holly ended up in his bedroom.
Holly shook her head, but remained silent, as though she didn't want to voice the words, before turning back to look at him. A reassuring smile on her face, as though she were trying to make him feel better.
"It would just get me into more trouble. And I want to come back here again."
Steve nodded slowly, hating that she had to go when, clearly, she didn't want to. He looked down at his drawing before tearing it out of his sketchbook and passed it to her.
"Have this, so you know it wasn't a dream."
"But you aren't in the drawing. It needs to be all three of us."
He smiled; heat radiated from his chest. Rarely did other children want to include him in things.
"I'm still a part of the drawing, because you know it was me that has drawn it." He said, before turning over the piece of paper, and wrote his name on the back, followed by Bucky's and Holly's. "There, now it's the three of us."
Holly threw herself at him, arms wrapped around his waist as she engulfed him in a hug.
"Thank you. I love it."
Steve hugged her back, surprised at the ease he felt around her, or how easily she fitted in with him despite only having met her twice, and yet already he couldn't imagine not seeing her again. Couldn't imagine having not met her two days ago, regardless of the strangeness of how she'd appeared in his bedroom.
Holly pulled back first, picked up the drawing he had given her, and slipped off the chair. He watched, hoping that if he paid more attention this time, he could understand exactly how the cupboard worked and how she disappeared. But as quickly as he blinked, the golden light had disappeared, and Holly was gone.
He sighed. The silence filling his room seemed much more oppressing than it had before Holly had returned to him. Steve wasn't sure how long it would be until she would return, but he took comfort knowing that she had returned a second time, which meant she could at least return.
He looked down at the piece of paper with her practised sketches, a reminder that this was real, and that was all that mattered.
XX
Holly woke to silence; a small sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed at her eyes. Another dream of Steve, and stepping through her cupboard door, this one just as real as the first.
She turned on her bed, pausing as the sound of paper crinkled beneath her. Holly frowned and reached for her glasses on the shelf above her, before switching the light on.
It was still early enough that her aunt hadn't come downstairs yet and from the heavy snoring of both her uncle and cousin; they were still fast asleep.
Holly glanced at the bed with a frown, as she saw the piece of paper she had clearly fallen asleep with. Hands shaking, she picked it up, her pulse racing at her throat as her heartbeat roared in her ears.
It couldn't be possible, could it?
Mouth dry, she turned it over; her gaze widening as her breath caught in the back of her throat.
A drawing of Bucky and her.
A drawing she had dreamed Steve had given her last night.
Her heart pounded against her chest.
One beat, two beats, three.
It couldn't be possible, shouldn't be, and yet she was holding the drawing in her hands. There was a drawing of her with a boy she had never met outside of her dreams, given to her by another.
Steve, Bucky.
It was real. Holly flipped the piece of paper over and there in the right corner was Steve's name, followed by Bucky's and then hers.
Her heart skipped a beat.
It was real. It hadn't been a dream.
Her tongue darted out nervously as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
It must be magic. There is no other way. Which means her aunt and uncle were wrong.
Her heart skipped another beat, and a small smile crept across her face. It had been real both times. She had met Steve and Bucky. Nobody could take that away from her, but she couldn't risk telling anyone either. Not that anybody would believe her, but Holly wasn't prepared to risk it. This was just hers, and it was something she would keep safe.
Holly glanced at the drawing in her hands one more time, her fingers gently tracing across the lines as she committed it to memory, before she tucked it safely behind her bed and out of sight. Not wanting to risk Dudley finding it and taking it away from her.
Questions rose in her mind, that she didn't have answers for, but now that she knew she hadn't just been dreaming, Holly was more than determined to find the answers and find out exactly how she moved from her cupboard to Steve's bedroom. If she could work that out, then she could learn how to repeat the process and not just wait until night-time.
Hope flickered in her heart, sparking brightly, as determination fanned the flames and fuelled her soul.
