Whenever he comes home he has to stop for a minute or two, just to take it in.
The way the sunlight washes over everything like it’s trying to fill a hole in the universe and the way the wind washes over him is the main reason Steve always likes to come back. Even if it’ll never be like it was again when he was young, at least it feels right.
Steve was never quite able to get a handle of the whole “smell” thing, though. Everyone else claims that other ‘verses smell differently than home, but for Steve it’s more of a sensation.
(that difference, inevitably, may have something to do with the fact that Steve can’t smell)
When someone comes back home, they know it and feel it instantly. It’s what they always knew before anything big happened, and it’s the only thing they knew existed at that time. It was their entire world.
(and also the only world, actually. No other world in their ‘verse can sustain life. It’s how they were able to stay hidden for so long)
Home is the way the fabric of space presses up against your skin to say hello when you come back. Home is the quiet wilderness and the way you could walk for miles and see only dilapidated houses overcome with plant life. Home is the way your stomach growls when you finally come into distance of Base.
Home is also the way your friends greet you as a mangy and bullet fast dog leaps into your arms, flooring you in the process.
Steve could probably do without that, just for a few times, maybe.
(during winter, he secretly enjoys it, however. During that time, he’s always eager to start a snowball fight)
As cheesy as if sounds, home is also where his friends are. It doesn’t matter if Steve has to go to Rui’s old house, or to the boarding house they all stow away in during winter, or even to the Costco that a few other kids had moved into when no one else was looking.
As long as he can feel the sunlight on his face and take a deep breath to know that he’s back, Steve is fine in the moment.