It was raining. He grew up in Seattle, and was used to the rain. Didn’t make him like it anymore. He was drenched from head to toe, hair plastered to his head. It was a heavy rain that the east coast didn’t get very often, and here it was.
And here he was, walking in the middle of Central Park. In the rain. Something about today upset him. Maybe it was the fact that Steve and Tony took Peter to school. Maybe it was the fact that he slept alone last night for the first time in the last few days. Or it could have just been the crappy weather.
Whatever it was, he decided he needed to walk out his frustrations. He had walked to the park from Stark Tower and was still overly frustrated. He was upset that he couldn’t figure it out, and he just needed a break from everything.
He sat down on one of the benches facing the lake, his clothes pretty much soaked through. He just needed some time alone to figure things out, but at the same time all he wanted was someone to talk to. With most of the other Avengers on missions, they weren’t available, so there was no one there, and Kris was on a hunt in Texas or something, so that was gone too.
He needed a friend. And there really wasn’t anyone available to him at the moment. And that’s when the first tear fell from his eye, hidden by the amount of water already on his face from the rain.
Sebastianne stumbled through the park, whipping out her cellphone as she drunk texted someone. She did that a lot when she drank. She was crying and cursing as she stumbled over her own two feet. She hated coming back here, hated her family. Hated everything about America and New York and her past. Yet here she was, stumbling through Central Park, an all too familiar landscape. Everything was blurry and her ears rang. She had gotten too drunk at the club and when she pulled a knife on a woman whom had shoved her on the dance floor, the guards had thrown her out before she could even use it.
She had been visiting her father, a man she used to admire and love. But after her mother’s death when she was 16, her father has never been the same. She screamed out at nothing, tears down her face, as she recalled the last two years in that horrible household. His drinking and beating and cursing. Locking her in the basement, or outside when it was freezing. After she had moved out (more like ran away) he had gotten help, but it wasn’t enough. He was still an asshole, one she despised. She finally fell to her knees in front of a stump, one that used to be a tall tree.
A tree she had sat beneath with her mother’s arms around her.
She sobbed into her hands, not even noticing the growing sound of footsteps crunching on gravel behind her.