Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

34

Exhaling, I bunch the sheets up in my hands nervously, going over scenarios in my head. I didn't want to tell Steve-I couldn't tell Steve. But he deserved to know and I should be the one to tell him.

"Steve," I mumbled to myself, rehearsing, a fake and practiced smile on my face. "I'm dying."

I wince. Nope. "Steve," I try again. "I am leaving. To a better place."

"Yo, Steve," I say finally, annoyed. "Peace out fam! Catch ya later, my brotha!"

Okay, I shake my head in bewilderment. Where did that one even come from?

I sigh, trying to clear my thoughts. I'd just have to be straight up with him and tell him that I don't have much time left.

I glanced over at the door, biting my lip. A nurse came in to give me medicine a few minutes ago and I asked her to send Steve in. After a lot of thought, I knew I had to get this done and over with before I was done and over with.

The strong, purposeful knock at the door sent a shiver down my back. I immediately recognized the knock as his, and if it weren't for my condition, I would've smiled at the fact that I could recognize him even if we were on polar opposites of the world.

"It's open," I say, and once I do, he opens the door and walks in.

I weakly smile at him. "Hi."

He strides across the room, pulling me into a sudden hug. I close my eyes against his neck, missing him being so close.

"Hi," he whispers next to my ear.

He doesn't pull away until minutes later, but I don't mind. I wanted the embrace to last just as much as he did. Maybe even more than he did, all things considered...

Steve releases me to sit next to my bed, keeping a hold on my hand. "How do you feel?" he asks, looking at me with wide, concerned eyes.

"I'm fine," I reply.

"Stop that," he says, somewhat stressed. "I hate it when you do that. Please, tell me how you really feel."

I exhale. "Dead," I mumble.

"What?"

"Steve," I say, sitting up despite my headache. "I have to tell you something."

Steve raises his eyebrows, scooting to the edge of his chair and sitting up straight in full alert. He grips one of my hands in both of his, massaging it with his thumbs as he says, "Anything."

I sigh, the breath bringing tears into my eyes. The way he was looking at me, so full of worry and eagerness and adoration, made my heart soften. I seemed to loose my ability to speak, my tongue feeling fat in mouth. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't. Not like this.

But you have to, my inner voice fought, and the conflict wanted to make me scream and sob in frustration. I couldn't do this to him. He had so much faith in the world, in me.

But then again, I would just be doing him more pain if I didn't tell him. And he was alive in the forties-everyone he's ever loved from his early life (with the exception of a few) was dead.

I close my eyes, my confidence building at an incredibly low pace. An extremely low pace.

"Ave," Steve says softly. "What is it?"

His tone forces me to open my eyes. And I don't know if it was the scared and curious look in his eyes or his caring voice, but the words just fell from my lips before I could even think about it.

"I'm dying."

Steve's head reeled back a little in shock. "What?"

I bite my lip. "I got my test results in. My sickness is a cancer-like state that they can't cure because they don't know anything about my ability."

And the room falls silent. Steve doesn't say a word. He just stares at me, his face completely blank, his whole body seemingly unresponsive. It was like he was unconscious, only his eyes were wide open.

My throat tightens up, the tears so close to spilling over. "Steve?" I squeeze out, sounding strained.

He doesn't do anything. Just continues to stare, which scared me more than anything.

"Steve," I say again, sounding more choked up as one tear manages to escape. It rolls down my cheek and I let it fall. "Steve?"

He finally snaps out of it, blinking hard for good measure. "Uh-um," he sputters, his lips acting numb. "I-uh-you-um-"

"Am dying," I say. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't meet my eyes, and I don't blame him. Instead, he focuses his gaze on my blanket, frozen as he fully processed everything.

"We'll do something," He says suddenly, his head finally whipping up to look at me. "I'll do something."

"Steve, there's nothing-" I try to say.

"There has to be something!" he exclaims desperately. I furrow my brows worriedly. I was right. He was taking the news a lot worse than I was.

I shake my head, reaching up to dust away another fallen tear. "I don't think so."

He exhales, breathing out through his nose before looking around determinedly. "Where's Banner? Maybe I can talk to him."

I rest my hand on top of his. "He's doing everything he can, Steve."

He throws in shoulders forward in a shrug. "Then we'll figure this out. We can think of something!"

"We aren't doctors Steve," I say with a light chuckle. Then, becoming more serious, "I've made my peace with it, you should too."

Oh, how much it pained me to say that. He's already made his peace with so much in the past. Asking him to forgive and forget one more thing was like asking a person with a broken leg to kick a ball.

He looks down at our entwined hands, his thumbs running over my skin in thought. "You're too young for this," he mumbles. "You shouldn't have to go through it."

I can't help but shrug, even though this probably wouldn't help. "Why not? My great grandma did. She was thirty when she passed."

"Runs in the family, huh," Steve tries to joke, but there is no humor in his voice.

"I guess so," I reply, watching his bowed head.

But his head perks up, only an inch, like one would do if they just think of something. He acts so suddenly it startles me.

"What is it?" I ask, watching his blue eyes glaze over as he sinks deep into thought.

"Steve?" I ask meekly, wanting to know what he was thinking.

He lifts his head fully, his eyes bright with an idea, as I had suspected. "It runs in the family," he says, a smile growing on his face.

"What?"

He doesn't listen to me, just stands abruptly and leans over to peck me on the forehead.

"I'll be right back," he says, striding towards the door with a small hop in his steps.

I watch him go, my eyes squinted in confusion. What the hell was that all about?

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Update!

What do you think his idea is?

Lol I was at a water park today and this guy had sunscreen on his back not completely rubbed in, so in the lotion somebody drew a penis.

So he walked around with a penis on his back all day with no clue. I would've said something but I was laughing too hard.

And it made my day knowing that he would end up with indescribable tan lines.

-Fandoms_Is_Bae