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“Please answer with the honesty of Steve Rogers,” Chris chuckled.
“Shot it,”
“Have you ever been to Coney Island? After the first movie?” Chris’ raised one eyebrow.
“Now that you questioned that… No, not yet. But I will,”
“With Bucky?” This time Chris’ thrown his head’s back laughing. Not forgetting his trademark gesture: left-boob-grab.
“People always blurred the lines between a movie and reality nowadays, and I should warned Sebastian about this—Oh yeah, with Bucky? No, not with Bucky, but with the person who’s personified him. I’m going with Sebastian Stan. Is this airing nationwide? Yes? Okay. Seb, I’ll take you to Coney Island on a weekend, buddy. We’re going to ride The Cyclone.”
Yes, the interview’s aired nationwide—the video’s been watched nearly by a billion viewers on YouTube, it means it’s no longer nationwide but worldwide. And even though Chris Evans never tell when he’ll took Sebastian Stan to Coney Island, that said recreational park’s—and its visitors—waiting in glee, can’t wait to see the legendary couple—what—of Brooklyn to come and ride The Cyclone. And who’d be sick at the end of the ride.
And Sebastian. The poor Sebastian’s could only shakes his head and smiling every time one or two interviewer’s asked him about Coney Island and The Cyclone. And is he really dating Chris Evans. And is he ever called Chris Evans’ Steve or Cap.
“You all should asked Chris. Are we dating? What do you think? And NO. I never ever called him Steve. Or Cap. For God’s sake. Both of them are very different personality!”
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It’s 2016, another Captain America’s movie had been released. And somehow, deep in Sebastian’s mind which he labeled ‘silly crush over Chris’—how that’s rhymes—still had this lingering thought of when will Chris Fucking Evans dragged him willingly to that damned Coney Island. Not that he’s gonna asking the man in his face; even though after this, what, four years sharing the same screen in this superhero slash drama movie, he and Chris had this tight bonding situation. It’s only an interview. Not a proclamation of something. Not important.
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“Hey, Seb.” Chris sat beside him, slouched and crossing his ankles. Relax position.
“Hey, Chris. You good?”
“Never been better. And you? Had those blueberries you’ve been craving?” Sebastian chuckled; there’s a Tupperware at his porch with a Post-It note at the lid when Sebastian opened his front door to go for his morning run. Sebastian already recognized the scribbles, it’s Chris’. It still had some condensation on its lid so Chris’ve been here not long ago.
“Yeah, yeah. Magic happens, right?”
“Damn right. We’re in Disney after all,” Sebastian cannot help but to guffawed at Chris’ words.
“So I kinda had this fairy god father, am I right?”
“Fairy god fath—Okay, okay, I admitted it. It’s me. Jesus, Seb, fairy god father,”
“You donned those tutu skirt and magic wand—“
“God, I must’ve looked HORRIBLE!”
“But I prefer my fairy god father in Captain America’s suit. The Stealth one. Looks good on him.” Chris had his cheeks flushed at that compliment. Smooth move, Sexy Seabass.
“Are you free this Saturday?”
“Wait a moment.” Sebastian reach out for his cell phone and pushing its screen for a few minutes, and when he looked up at Chris he’s smiling so big that crinkled his eyes.
“Free as a Willy,” Chris snorted.
“I’ll pick you at 10 in the morning. Is that okay?”
“It’s okay. What should I wear? Any dress code?”
“Just your usual clothes. It’s an outdoor activity, bring your cap and sunglasses with you. And your water bottle.”
“Yessir!!”
They both can’t sleep at all that night.
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Chris knocking on his front door at 10 AM sharp. And Sebastian—who’s been awake since 05:00, not been able to decided what’s to wear—picking his to-be-wearing clothes which now scattering around his bedroom’s floor just like some teenage nervous and excited on a date. And to hear his door’s knocked by his-not-so-much-a-date overwhelmed him. Blindly, he grabbed his grey hoodie after wearing a nondescript black T-Shirt and his tight black jeans—but before he wears it, he had to sniffed the jeans first to make sure it’s at least fresh. His backpack which consist two bottled water and apples sat on the couch along with his sneakers and cap—he’d already prepared those first.
“Hi!”
“You’re sweating.”
“Nice to see you too.”
“I can’t sleep. At all.” Sebastian muttered ‘Oh, God’ and suddenly two strong arms engulfed his body, pressured and weighing him but diminished his nervousness and imaginary burden on his shoulders.
“Thanks, Chris.”
“Thanks, Seb.”
“Tighter. Please.” They hugged for another moments and when they’re separate Sebastian had his usual smile on his face. Chris trying hard for not reach out his hand and cupped Sebastian’s stubble-covered jaw and--
“Come on, Seb. We’re going to Coney Island!!”
“GOD HAVE MERCY”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M DOING THIS!!” Sebastian had his cell phone on video mode since he sat his ass on The Cyclone’s seat. Chris beside him can’t stop laughing; ‘I’M NERVOUS TOO, YOU BASTARD! I’M SO GONNA PEE RIGHT THIS FUCKING SECOND!’ FYI when Chris Evans’ nervous as fuck he’ll starts swearing, damned his Steve Rogers’ inner self. And Sebastian, the little shit, keep on recording with his cell phone even the thing’s shook every time he’s roared with laughter.
In the end, they both bend over a trash can, throwing nearly all of their stomach’s content and helped each other to sit on a bench after what’s been like between-life-and-death-experience.
“We survive, Seb.”
“Damn right, Evans. Lord, I’d never ever gonna stepped on that traumatize kind of thing for the rest of my life.”
“Amen.”
“And can you believe that I’m still able to records that horrifying ride?!” Sebastian exclaimed when his still trembling hand holding his cell phone which now playing the video of their ride. The 1min and 50sec video is filled with Chris and Sebastian’s petrified screams. Pathetic. A weak laughter escaping Chris’ lips, he can’t even construct a word. He left his brain on that ride, probably.
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Sebastian shared his apple with Chris, they’re munching the sweet-sour fruit slowly while looking at the view in front of them; people walking to and fro totally ignoring them and busy with themselves, maybe thinking those two guys who sat on the bench are just another visitor, some citizen who’s spend this weekend on this island, not Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan.
“Strong enough to take some walk?” Chris looked at Sebastian, now gulped his water till its empty.
“Yeah. And I think I’d be able to have a lunch,”
“Okay. I know a place with great burger,”
Done with lunch, they took some walks around the island; both aren’t Brooklyn native so they acted like a true tourist; took some pictures, selfies, and Chris had a video of Sebastian talking to a dog. And it’s almost twilight when they’re arrived at the pier. Lights are still out, the sky is slowly turns to a spreads of golden as the sun descent from its usual place to be replaced by moon. Sebastian’s barely a silhouette with a background of a last sparks of the sun between The Cyclone’s wooden rails and Chris cannot not take that piece of art with his cell phone. Sebastian’s smiling but unseen because of the low light but Chris knows.
They stay until 8 PM; they both wants to ride the ferris wheel for their closing event of the day, and that’s the moment when other visitors recognized them. Five security guards helped them escaped from the crowds, after Chris and Sebastian gave some time to signing and took some pictures with the visitors. It’s the part of their job, after all. And Sebastian often said that fans are everything to him. Chris totally agree with him.
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“Today’s one of the greatest moment in my life.” Sebastian said when they stopped at an empty park and sat down. Chris had bought them coffee and now they sipped the scalding hot beverage little by little.
“Yeah? I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Thanks, Chris. Today’s superb.”
“I’m not forgetting my statement. Never forget it.” Chris half-whispered after a moment of peaceful silence.
“You took me to Coney Island, Chris. You’ve proved your word. And because you’d never lied.” Said Sebastian. Chris never said which statement, but then Sebastian--
“You never forget it either…” Chris’ just dropped his paper cup to the ground, some of the coffee’s splashed on his shoes and his jeans but he ignored it because Sebastian always remembers. Sebastian’s took hold of Chris’ promise and keeps it in his mind. All this fucking time.
“Chris, I—“
“I’m sorry, Seb. So sorry—“
“Hey, hey! You aren’t doing wrong, Chris! Maybe it takes a little while but—“
“You’ve been waiting for 4 years?! 4 fucking years??!! OH MY GOD, SEBASTIAN STAN.”
“Oh, fuck—“ and then Sebastian’s kiss him. On the lips. They’re kissing. No, for a two second Chris’ like freeze, short-circuited, hang, but after his brain’s recovered, he kiss Sebastian’s back. Full force. The kiss which is meant to stop Chris Evans from shouting now turns out to be its pure meaning: to shows affection, to share what can’t be shared with words, to tell someone that you care for them. To say:
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“It’s been a long long time,”
“I hate your Steve Rogers’ inner self.”
“Punk.”
“Jerk.”