2

DOOR

𝕆ne of the persistent concerns that troubled Luna every daybreak, when she rose up to the aroma of the same old toast and eggs, was that this cycle was never going to change. It was the same monotonous routine - wake up, get some food, go to work, blend in, come home and repeat. Three years had gone by, she couldn't say it was a blur since she had toiled hard to find herself a home, a new identity for both of them and start a new life. She feared her days more than the last, as Kit grew older and that he would be more conspicuous to the world outside. 

Recurrently, she accomplished her job as a lounge waitstaff. The humans were no different from her when she started to observe their basic instincts. She was the first species from which they had evolved but the Inhuman gene was lost in some and those personages were humans on this planet. Shi'arians were born with resourceful talents, ranging from anything a creative mind to conjure. 

Luna herself was gifted with the art of gravity manipulation, able to change and shape gravity however she had liked it. It was an essential combat skill but she had never thought of it as such, it was just an instinctual gene engineered to show her as a higher power. It was a status on her planet whereas here, she would be a superhero. But the point was to lay low. She couldn't give a damn about the world until her son was truly safe from it.

Speaking of, she had caught Kit watching the local news channel on the television as she was ready to walk out the door to start her day. He was on the bed, flipping the volume high up so he could listen, but she was quick enough to grab it out of his hands. He groaned out of tune, his hands stretched out to throw a fit.

'What did we talk about, huh?' She asked in a stern voice. 'No news channels.'

He was quick to reason. 'But, that's the only place they show - '

'I don't care, Kit,' she said in finality. 'You can watch cartoons. Or the cooking or sports channel.'

'I don't want to watch the stupid cartoons! I don't want to! '

It wasn't the screaming that terrified Luna. It was the effect of his outcry, the way it built it up like a sneeze wanting to be let out and the atmosphere turning electric. Her eyes snapped to the night lamp by the bed that started to flicker alight, growing in fervor as Kit's fist grew tighter. She clambered to him, seizing his downcast face in her hands and making him meet her. She gasped when she saw the brilliance of a star in his eyes, molten golden and furiously glaring down at the ground.

'Look at me,' she said breathlessly, kneeling in front of him. 'Ka'rier, you need to let go.'

Kit's breathing calmed by a fraction as he gleaned his mother's voice, the glow in his amber eyes dimming to his natural ocher state. The emotion that settled in his eyes was terror, afraid of what he could do. The way he looked at her was pleading, seeking any sort of comfort from Luna.

'Mother,' he panted, looping his arms around her neck. 'Don't leave me, please, don't leave me here alone.'

It was a stupid strategy she had illustrated to keep him unknown. Every moment she left the house she couldn't help but think she was holding her own son prisoner in the apartment. Confined and hidden from sight, she had been so secretive about his existence that no one knew about him except the old landlord who lived three floors down. Little Kit loved when Tuesdays came, the only day Luna got off work earlier than usual to take him to the lonesome park a few blocks away from the neighborhood. It was the only time he got to see the world he resided on.

The home was meager, too. On the topmost level, hindered flat with a single room which always remained shut. She had pushed the bed to a corner to manage as a makeshift couch and the TV installed a few feet away. The kitchen was adjacent to the bed, a tiny dining table and small restroom near the empty bedroom. There was not much to do for Kit after she had left for work. She tried to keep him engaged in colorful ways - books, color pencils, puzzles, second-hand toys or anything that kept his mind occupied until she returned from work. With the slim financial accounts not in her favor, she had no choice but to let him fall into the same routine as hers however boring it was for Kit.

'My heart, you know I have to go to work,' she murmured into his hair. 'I'll be back home as soon as possible.'

He shook his head. 'Take me with you, please? We - we can go to the park.'

'Day after,' she promised, running her hand into the fluffy hair on his crown and lifting a side of her lips to coerce him. 'I have to leave now.'

'Mom - '

She cut in with a cocked brow. 'What are the rules you have to follow?'

Kit rolled his lips into his teeth, looking away for a beat and answering with a sigh. His voice was still and robotic, it was something Luna made him do every day. 'Don't open the door ever, no making noises, eat when the short hand hits one and nap at three.'

'...and?'

He leaned closer to whisper it into her ears. 'Bathroom before naptime.'

'Great,' she complimented. It felt wrong to leave after what she saw with Kit but her job was just as important as the roof over their heads. She had learned that having a job was the only way to do anything around this planet, money played a big role in everything she did.

She tutted with a faux pout, holding his tiny chin and cradling it lightly. 'I'm going to miss you.'

'Don't go then.'

'Nice try,' she snickered. Pressing a long kiss on his cheek, Luna swayed him as if in a trance and pulled back with a grin. She spotted his wrinkled nose, disgusted with her warm kisses. She prodded him further, stealing another kiss from his other cheek and he giggled this time. She continued this on his forehead, nose, and eyes until he splayed his hands to cover his face from his mother.

'Mom!'

'Okay, okay,' she let go hesitantly and reaching the door in a reluctant gait. She peeked from behind the door to look at him one last time. The rest of the backdrop was lost when she watched him walk over to the window, palms flat over the glass to peer past the reflection. He was waiting for his mother to appear on the sidewalk. Luna left the door with her heart full, a complacent smile on her lips and a skip to her step.

*

It wasn't ordinary for Bucky to get disturbed for such petty purposes. But he had his reasons. Fresh out of cryostasis, with a temporarily engineered metal arm and stranded in the middle of nowhere by a sixteen-year-old could be something to start on. The paper-slip in his hand read out the exact address he was standing at, his eyes cast upward and assessing the old, rundown apartment building on the street. It was quiet for a town near a bustling city, he had to get here by feet from the bus stop that was a few blocks away. However sweltering it was, he seized himself immobile and gritted out to the girl on the phone.

'Your brother wasn't kidding when he said you were a handful.'

'I only did what Captain told me,' said Shuri, the genius who bagged the brain just as intellectual as Stark and his AI combined. She was known for her snide remarks and how she could make a king, her brother T'Challa, feel like a lowlife in mere words. 'It's for recuperative purposes. And it's not that far off from Wakanda.'

Steve.

Not that Bucky was complaining, Steve was just being a bit overbearing. He had crossed all evasiveness, yet he was being treated like he was some kid-agent on a recon mission. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the stupidity. He could - Shuri wouldn't be able to see it given he was on the phone with her. But he couldn't trust the child prodigy and what tricks she had up her techy sleeves. 'That's not the point.'

'Sergeant Barnes, this is what laying low is called,' Shuri said, enunciating every syllable. Like talking to an infant and in her thick dialect, it sounded like she was teasing him. 'You should know. It's your lifestyle.'

'Was,' he corrected, slamming a warning label over the wrecking thoughts that pounded back to him. 'And it's Bucky.'

'It isn't hardwired into my brain to call you that, Sergeant - '

'Okay, princess,' he sighed in a mocking tone, hefting the backpack higher as it weighed him down. An aging stranger walked by, tossing him a scrutinizing glance and ducked his head down low. 'So I just stay here and smell the roses?'

'What roses?'

He bit the insides of cheek from groaning out loud. 'It's a phrase. It means to stay calm.' Which he was not nearly as close.

'Whatever, old white boy,' she said in an irritated voice. 'Captain and I will take turns checking up on you. Besides, it's just for a while.'

'I don't like this one bit,' he mumbled, releasing the tension from his neck and sauntering in quick steps. The teak-looking door gave off a noisy screech with his push. 'But this is for the best...'

'Exactly. See you soon, Sergeant.'

The call cut abruptly and he slipped the handphone into one of the pockets in his trousers. His eyes were pensive to his surroundings, his steps stealthy as he grasped the set of keys in his hands like it was his lifeline. He kept his gaze trained on his footsteps, focused on maintaining the rhythm up the stairs. Left foot, leap, right foot. Repeating it like a mantra and not letting his thoughts dwell on anything else, he reached the last floor of the apartment and looked to his left where the floor started. 

The hallway was the mere definition of lonely. The last level was where his apartment was at, the number 303 flashing like lights all of a sudden. He located the door nearby, just as he turned from the staircase and relieved at the competence of exit. There was only a total of three doors on the floor, one being his and another opposite to his and the other adjoining the both. From effective gleaning, he knew only one was occupied as of now out of the three. Sticking the key into the keyhole, he felt the heat drain from the metal fast as he struggled to turn the gold knob and get the door open. He grumbled under his breath as he jiggled it again, the door was willed shut.  

'Dumb hunk of shi - '

'You have to t-turn them together.'

Like Bucky's brain had suffered a massive short-circuit, he struggled to conjure a precise reply. When he turned his neck to glance at the voice of his savior, his eyes were guarded and aware. His eyes widened when he spotted a child, no older than five, watching him from beneath his lashes and mirroring his expression. The boy had long, straight hair that hung down on his forehead and strange colored eyes. It was as if someone had tipped a bowl on his hair and cut around the edges - it was funny. With his height, how the hell did he reach the knob?

'Uh,' he managed to say, still startled from the fact that such a tiny person could talk. He swallowed hard. 'What?'

'You have to put the key in and twist the knob together,' the boy murmured, his eyes still glued on Bucky's alarmed trance. Forcing himself to snap out of it, he followed the method and he heard the soft click of the latch unlocking. He looked back at the boy who sent him a smile.

'No one comes up here,' he shared, his hands still braced on the door. The boy had a glint in his eyes - curiosity maybe - and happy to help out a stranger. 'I get the hall all to myself after Mother leaves.'

Bucky struggled to muster up a response. It was rare to see such a young child, all alone in a house and with no one to watch over him. His dark eyes were still skeptical as he assessed the boy again, looking behind him to see a well-kept living room - and a bed?

'I'm moving in,' he said swiftly before the boy caught him staring. He wasn't acquired with the skillset to communicate to a child, not knowing whether or not to crouch to his height or if that were disrespectful. 

'I'm um, Bucky.'

'My name is Kit,' the boy said automatically as if he were programmed to give that response. Everything about this place was ominous. The halls, the silence, the boy - like straight out of some classic horror movie. 'I'm four and I live here.'

'Kit,' he repeated to engrave the name in his memory. A beat later, he said. 'Nice name.'

'My mother gave it to me.'

He fought off the urge to scoff so he responded with a tight-lipped smile. Kit moved closer, in a motion to prolong the conversation and smiled largely when he saw the silver on his cybernetic limb gleam in the minimal lights of the hallway. A low click sounded from behind the boy, both of them snapping their gazes to the locked door.

Kit sprang up to the knob, his little hands twisting the ball but in vain. He reached up on tip-toes and grunting as he struggled to twist it back open.

'Oh no.'

*