Chapter 15
His once-thriving career was in ruins, a casualty of a fractured personal relationship. Bucky didn’t want to talk to him anymore, and had gone so far as to go back abroad, leaving only silence behind him and an unspoken break-up. Even his circle of friends, once a source of support, had turned their backs, not even responding to a simple text message. Tony Fucking Stark was responsible for everything.
Their relationship had been consensual, an agreement between two adults fully aware of what to expect from the other. Tony could go about pretending to be that philanthropist with a big heart and a deep appreciation for art. He also had a charming companion to accompany him to society events, a nice piece of eye candy, improving his public image and sending Stark Industries stocks soaring. In return, Steve could have a thriving career.
It was a simple trade. Both parties were happy with it. However, the reality was significantly more complicated. Steve had been personally and professionally damaged by the aftermath from their breakup. On the other hand, Tony had walked away unscathed.
Although Stark had the better end of the bargain, Steve knew that occasionally sacrifices had to be made. Dealing with Tony could be exasperating. He constantly wanted to get noticed and to go out. While this benefited Steve to some extent, allowing him to leverage Stark's influence, he also needed the time to pursue his true passion, painting. Various prestigious art galleries wanted to showcase Steve’s work, and to do that, he needed time to paint, to create.
Steve was gifted. It was a simple fact, not his ego speaking.
He believed in his craft, confident that he would have succeeded independently of Tony's involvement. Stark had failed to keep his end of the bargain. Those rich guys never really care about anybody but themselves. They would never fully understand what it was to start from the bottom of the ladder and work his way to the top, ascending that particular mountain with bare hands. Steve might be a little guy from Brooklyn, he would make it one way or another.
"Bucky." I apologise for all of it. Tell me what I can do to make things right between us, and I'll do whatever it takes," Steve pleaded over the phone.
"If you don't know what you need to do then you don't understand what you have done wrong." Bucky responded, his voice as tired as he was with the situation.
Steve couldn't truly apologise because he hadn't done anything wrong. Why could they not understand that? It was a personal matter between him and Bucky. Perhaps, in retrospect, he should have attended the gala alone, keeping their personal affairs out of the public domain. That portion of his life should never have been revealed to the media. In Steve's mind, Tony Stark was to blame for not attending the event in the first place. There was no way his workload could have been so heavy that he was unable to take a break.
The storm around that story had finally subsided. All those journalists were nasty people who had no loyalty to anyone. With the turmoil settling, Sam, Natasha, and Clint could now return. He had missed the old gang, their time together and the shenanigans that came with it. Tony couldn't stop at wrecking Steve's existence, he had to go after everyone in his life.
“Anyway, I don’t really want to return to New York. there are too many dark stories there, my mom, my sisters… I need some time with the new family I found, you know.” Bucky confided.
“But I’m your family Bucky. Till the end of the line.”
"You prioritise your career above all else. We're just not at the same point in our lives. But you could always come over here for a while. Nobody is holding you captive in New York."
"I can't just leave Bucky. And my painting..." Steve began, his voice trailing off.
Bucky, perceptive as ever, interjected, “Art does not exist only in America. You said that Stark had ended your possibilities for the time being."
Steve didn't have a good answer to that. Or, maybe, not one that would please Bucky. The truth was, the family that Bucky had discovered didn't really matter to him. They seemed distant, distant cousins living too far away. After all, he had no family of his own, and surprisingly, he didn't feel any worse for it. Bucky waited for an answer, forcing Steve to hesitantly say something, anything that would keep them together a little bit longer.
“I’ll think about it.”
They both understood that it meant no. The conversation stopped fairly quickly after that. Bucky made fewer calls, and when Steve attempted to reach out, the responses were few and far between. Perhaps it was for the best, given that the artist was misunderstood by the one person who should always have his back, no matter what. Steve would have burned the world for Bucky Barnes, but obviously the opposite was not true.
Bucky was going to return to Steve anyway. The artist was sure of it. Bucky would eventually understand the truth beneath the sensationalised story. The media had this way to twist everything, confusing even the wisest men. Steve promised himself that he wouldn’t hold grudges. The past would be water under the bridge. He would welcome the other man back without reservation, simply with an open heart and the knowledge that their love would prevail over the momentary agitation that had been around them. Steve was a decent man. They would weather the storm and emerge stronger in the end.
A year had passed since the events, and Steve was getting his life back on track, slowly making his way back into the art world. Just as he felt he was regaining his footing, the press once again began to hound him. Their inquiries revolved around Stark, and Steve had no idea why. He would rather avoid anything slightly related to Stark, not after the ordeal he had endured.
After his experiences with sensationalist magazines, Steve had no desire to immerse himself in the world of tabloids once again. He was not the type to obsess over celebrity rumours, particularly when they related to his personal history. It felt like another unwanted intrusion into this carefully rebuilt haven.
Steve was well aware that responding with a simple ‘no comment’ would not get him really far. He hated being caught off guard. New York was a vast city where he could easily hide. Still, he went out of his way, away from his neighbourhood and workshop, to purchase a number of those tabloids. Those papers hardly ever told the truth, but he had no other way of knowing what was going on. It wasn’t like Steve could reach out to Stark for an update on his own life.
In an ironic turn of events, a photographer took advantage of Steve’s unintentional moment of vulnerability. The resulting picture, which took centre stage on the front page of the next edition. The magazine Steve was reading that day told the story of Tony Stark, the infamous playboy, finally getting engaged. The photograph showed Steve holding the tabloid, the image of Tony Stark in the same frame.
Although it had nothing to do with Steve on a personal level, it still stung. There were no romantic feelings toward Stark. The realisation that Tony had apparently moved on suggested that he didn’t care all that much about Steve in the first place. It reinforced the idea that Stark was, at his core, a showman, adept at crafting narratives that suited his public image. The past year could have been avoided.
“What did I expect from the likes of Tony Stark?” He said to himself, perhaps to remind himself of the other man's well-established reputation.
Steve struggled with his own thoughts. Tony was a selfish man, only doing things for himself. Steve should have known better.
Tony Stark never imagined such happiness could exist in his life. A mere year ago, he feared he would never be able to recover from his broken heart. Back then, the notion of moving on felt like an unreachable star, and the future was just a dark void. People often claimed that time would help, but it was difficult to believe in the middle of such misery. But as the days passed, it became clear that those statements were profoundly true.
Tony thought back on his past reactions and realised they were almost comical now. Sad too. Tony had never experienced what it was like to be loved for himself until meeting Logan. It was heartbreaking but also shed a light on the people that had shared his life so far. His Rhodey Bear was not included in that gloomy list. They might not always see eye to eye but they would be there for each other no matter what. Tony had no desire to wallow in self-pity any longer.
Miss Florence possessed an extraordinary assortment of wedding magazines, each brimming with ideas she eagerly shared with Tony and Logan. The entire town was continuously giving them their two cents on the subject and was determined to be active participants in the wedding preparations. Plans were made for the decoration of the town square and the organisation of a grand celebration to follow the ceremony.
The people adored Tony without a doubt, but they were mainly doing it for their café owner, who used to be a man of few words but great resilience. For years, the man had been raising his little girl alone, despite the difficulties with determination. In the eyes of the close knit community, this duo deserved nothing short of all the happiness the world could offer.
"Rhodey is going to be my best man of course." Tony declared, sat at Miss Florence's table, as close to Logan as possible.
"Laura insists on giving me away," Logan added with a smile.
This idea was adorable. The two boys would also need to have a part to play. Tony and Logan were content to delegate responsibility for the organisation to others. In all honesty, a quick ceremony in Las Vegas would have been enough. The townsfolk would most likely not have understood.
Those people surpassed all expectations in their efforts. The town square transformed into a magical wonderland, adorned with thousands of twinkling fairy lights and an abundance of various flowers, all bathed in a golden yellow glow. From the streets leading to the central gazebo, a white carpet wove its way,with white chairs on either side. The entire town planned to attend the ceremony. The gazebo was draped in elegant, flowing white silk and decorated everywhere with bouquets of resplendent yellow roses. The sheer beauty of the place brought a lump in Tony’s throat.
Logan, dressed in a crisp grey three-piece suit and a white shirt, awaited him at the altar. Just behind him stood Laura, her forest green dress gracefully swaying in the gentle breeze. She had chosen all of their outfits with the assistance of Miss Florence. Her tastes were impeccable. Tony absolutely loved the light grey, shiny suit she had chosen for him.
Tony took measured steps down the aisle to the music toward Logan. His emotions were running wild. There were moments when tears threatened to surface, and then, in the blink of an eye, he had the biggest smile on his face. Logan wasn't doing much better. Harley was filming the entire ceremony while Peter was capturing a thousand photos, eager to immortalise every moment of this extraordinary day.
As the minister was making a speech, Tony found himself lost in the depths of Logan’s blue eyes, their hands entwined. The world around them faded into insignificance. A squeeze from Logan served as an unspoken cue.
“I do.”
Peter and Harley were right. Tony felt as if he were in a dream and was aware that he was missing a lot of what was going on. They would make many more memories all together. This was his family. It was small, a little bit broken and reassembled but it was still good. More than good. It was perfect.