Good isn't perfect [c.e] | 18+ a Chris Evans fanfic

26 | Good Isn't Perfect

Thursday May 7th, a month later

It had been a month since I had started to open up to Chris. It felt weird to talk about it to him, but he had been nothing but supportive. I had opened up completely to Amalia, and it felt so good.

It was also so fun to shoot the movie, when I wasn't having a bad day. Today wasn't one of the good days.

"That was good," Chris said looking at the screen. "You were good, Caroline." We were rewatching the scene we had just shot, his arm on my lower back rubbing small circles. He knew good wasn't enough for me. I needed it to be perfect. "Yes, you were good," I cringed looking at myself on the screen. I noticed how my nose scrunched up when it shouldn't. How my head was held. How I said each word. It wasn't perfect. It was exhausting, I was tired of not having it perfect the first time. Chris was perfect, me on the other hand - I couldn't bear to see myself on the screen. "But I wasn't perfect. We are shooting the scene again. I need to be perfect. Good isn't good enough. It isn't perfect."

"And action!" I looked into Chris' eyes. "You don't seem to care, Steve Rogers, that you aren't my world. Not anymore." Chris was stepping closer towards me. "Then we might have a problem." I got lost in his eyes for a moment. Like he could read me. I knew at that moment that I had messed up, again. "That we do." I answered him in my acting voice, but it was all wrong. We needed to shoot this scene at least one more time. He stepped even closer before his next line rolled off his tongue.

"The problem is...that you are my world, and I would do anything to keep you safe." The words having more meaning to them, than just being his lines. He kissed me, like it said in the script. "Cut!" The director said. "That was perfect, Caroline and Chris. Thank you. That is a wrap for today." I shook my head. "No, it wasn't even close to perfect. I need to do it again." I started to feel anxious, and Chris noticed, placing his hands on each side of my face. "You were perfect the first time, Caroline."

"But you," I started. "You said it was good." I wanted his hands off me. "Forget that. You were perfect, okay? C'mere." He pulled me into his chest. Holding me tight. A silent tear fell down my cheek, my fathers words in my head. Telling me I would never become anything. Even though he was still in prison, I had a bad feeling about him. Something wasn't right.

*

Back at my apartment I was sat on the floor in my living room, my old notes from my time as a pharmacy student scattered around me. With Emma on FaceTime. We weren't talking, just enjoying each other's company through the screen. I was reading my old cell biology notes, reminding me that I had control over my own life. After I had read them I started to organise the notes by colours. Last time I did it it was the order of date that I had written them in. A soft knock on the door had me snapped back to reality.

"The door is open!" I shouted through the apartment. I knew who it was before the person even opened the door. I looked up and I could see Chris stepping into my apartment, before I went back to organising. "You should really consider locking the door, sweetheart," He closed the door behind him, and then kicked off his shoes. He knew that I hated the whole walking with your shoes in the house-thing.

"I need to go. I will talk to you later." Emma nodded and I hung up the phone. He hung his jacket on the knobs beside mine, before he came walking over to me. "You never know what might happen to you if you don't." I didn't look up to him when I answered. "I like living on the edge, Evans," He sat down on the floor, facing me. "What do you want?"

"You are organising." It wasn't a question, more like a statement. He knew why I was doing it. It had been a hard day for me. He could read me like an open book. "Yup." I was conflicting between two colours that stood out from the rest of my notes, not sure where in the colour scheme it would fit. Cursing myself for using those two colours back when I was studying. A tear came down my cheek.

"Why did I use these colours? They don't even match anything else. Stupid, stupid Caroline." I mumbled and stood up, ready to find some paper and my stationery to make these notes again so they would fit the rest of my notes. I sat down at my table and started writing the header. Chapter Four; Protein Structure a- before the marker was ripped out of my hand.

Chris Evans

The moment Chris noticed what Caroline was doing he stood up and ripped the marker out of her hand, the header getting ruined in the process. This was their agreement with Amalia. Nothing of what they had tried earlier had worked, and this was the last resort. Caroline wanted to get better, she really did, and Chris knew that. When she was spiralling into her old habits Chris was supposed to stop her. He could most likely have done it another way, but they were both trying to figure it all out as they went.

She had been doing that lately. It hadn't been easy for her to open up to either him or her therapist. But he was so proud of his princess. He wanted to ask her to move in with him, but he didn't know how to break that news to her. There had been so many changes in her life recently, and she wasn't good with those.

It was an act of love and she knew it, she needed to cry. And this was enough to make Caroline do just that. She just let it all out. Chris held her tight and let her cry it all out. "Shhh...it's okay, sweetheart." He carried her to the sofa and sat down with Caroline in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down her back, just like he had done in the car when he had told her that she got raped, by her ex.

He wanted to hunt this Simon down and kill him, for doing such a thing to his future wife.

He sat with her on his lap until her crying had stilled and she fell asleep. He laid her down on the sofa and wrapped a blanket around her, before sitting down on the floor and looked at her notes. He quickly figured out how she was organising her notes - by colours. He started sorting them. Sometimes he stopped and read them, on one side she had written them in English, which he assumed was because her textbooks were in English. On the other side she had translated them into Norwegian.

They were neat and organised. This was her way to have control over her life back then. Her drawings were amazing as well. When he finished sorting through them and putting them back into her binders. He figured that he would make her some dinner. He also knew that her OCD would kick in once again and she would organise her notes back to how they originally were. She liked it that way. Everything should be the way it has always been.

"Hi," Her weak voice sounded and Chris turned his head towards her. "Hi, sunshine," Chris gestured to the plate of food. "Come eat. Afterwards, you can rewrite your notes and organise them back to how they were originally."