The muffled noise of laughter, music, and clinking glasses fades as Steve steps out of the bar. He pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders, the warmth of the night air doing little to soothe the tension he feels in his chest. Inside, Bucky’s laughter rings out, his drunken smile lighting up the room as he twirls some girl on the dance floor, completely lost in the moment. Steve watches from the doorway for a brief second, wishing he could feel the same sense of freedom. But instead, he feels like a stranger in the crowd, too heavy with the weight of his own thoughts.

Without a word, he turns and walks away, the sounds of the bar closing off behind him. His boots echo softly against the pavement as he heads down the quiet street, seeking solitude before the next mission pulls him back into the storm. His mind is a battlefield, a constant pull between wanting to forget and being forced to remember.

He reaches the park, the faint glow of the streetlights casting long, cold shadows along the path. His feet carry him to a bench, where he settles down, drawing in a breath of the cool air. The stars above are barely visible, but the moon hangs low, offering some small comfort amidst the darkness. His gaze falls on a figure in the distance—a man standing alone, smoke drifting lazily from his cigarette. There’s something about him that tugs at Steve’s chest, a strange, inexplicable feeling that makes his fingers itch. It’s almost as if he needs to remember him, to commit him to memory. He reaches into his coat and pulls out an old, worn notebook, his pencil already in hand.

He begins to sketch, tracing the outline of the man’s silhouette, the smoke curling around him in delicate tendrils. But then, his heart skips when he realizes the man has noticed—his eyes flicking to the sketchbook in Steve’s hand. A wave of heat rushes to his face, his mind racing in embarrassment.

For a moment, Steve freezes, caught between wanting to retreat and the ingrained responsibility of his own sense of decency. He closes the notebook quickly with a soft snap, taking a deep breath before standing up. His movements slow, deliberate, as he approaches the man. His voice comes out steady, though there’s a slight tremble beneath it as he speaks, words laced with quiet apology.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I tend to get lost in my thoughts... Sometimes I draw to clear my mind. Hope I didn’t bother you.”