Steve Rogers lost so much.
First, he lost his childhood friend, his everything. The moment Bucky fell from that train, part of Captain America died. Bucky who was always by his side, who always protected him, noticed him when nobody did. When he was a nobody. When James Barnes fell, Steve wondered if it was wrong to keep living, something his friend couldn't do now. Hell, he should've jumped with him that day. He should've told him to go back in Brooklyn and live his life. God, he was so young. Steve remembered how small and lost Bucky looked when he saved him from HYDRA after he was captured. How his blue eyes looked so dull. Steve just wanted him to be safe, safe with him.
Next, he lost Peggy. His beautiful Peggy he never got a chance to dance with. Peggy who loved him before Captain America. But saying she was the only person he loved was wrong. He loved Bucky with everything he had. And when Bucky kissed him for the first and last time, he should've kissed him back. If he could go back in time and tell Bucky how he really felt, if he only knew that was the last day they had together, he would've told him how much he loved Bucky. How much he craved for his soft touches, how much he missed him every time they weren't together. Steve wanted to move on. Live for Bucky, like he promised him. Marry Peggy, have a family and a happy ever after. But the more he thought of it, the more guilt he felt. No, he couldn't. No matter how many times he heard it wasn't his fault. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself it'll be okay with time. He couldn't bring himself to. And so a week later Bucky Barnes died, Captain America crashed down his plane. He only wished he had his last dance with the most beautiful woman that he left in 20th century.
70 years later he woke up.
Everything was going great, until it wasn't.
Bucky was alive. Very much alive. But HYDRA got to him before Steve. He couldn't even remember him. In fact, Steve was his mission. Eventually, Bucky started remembering, healing. Steve could even see life in his eyes. Like back in 40s when things were still normal.
But once again, he lost him.
He was simply too frail and weak to really carry him, especially since he was now dead weight.
Bucky couldn’t even grasp the strength to breathe, much less support his own weight. He was
left in Steve's care, coughing weakly as he dragged him into the alleyway. Smoke rose in thick
clouds around them, yet the alley provides some privacy.
Enough that he could let himself panic.
“Holy fuck, you’re-you’re fine! You’ll be just fine, Buck. Always have been, right? Just another
little burn to patch up, shouldn’t be too bad, right?!”
But oh, it was.
His skin was bubbling with blisters, red patches sitting underneath charred skin. Bright blue eyes
were hazy and bloodshot. His lungs wheezed in choked bursts; no amount of air could clear out the
smoke lingering in his respiratory system. And his hands.
His hands weren’t even hands anymore. They were ash. His skin was practically peeling off from
the heat, revealing deep burns that sunk all the way down to the bone. The back of his hands
looked like too-realistic tattoos.
And Steve was in pure denial.
“Come on, just breathe with me. Like we always do, remember? Like-like that time in 40s I puked
everywhere and you sat with me on the floor? Or when we were in the bar and you puked
everywhere? We really tend to do that a lot, didn't we-but you know what I mean, right? Deep
breaths.”
His words were rushed and frantic, insults wedging their way in as he cursed himself periodically.
Bucky was left to gasp for air that wouldn’t come, only getting enough to keep him awake.
It wouldn’t last.
And he could still see his eyes. They were just like Steve's, but they were too different to be his.
Dark, hateful blue eyes now full of rage and destruction. Those eyes that always looked at the world with pure love and bravery looked terrified.
But he wasn’t afraid, not anymore. The chaos had been enacted. He’d lost.
And now, Steve was losing too.
“Come on Bucky, stop messing around. You’re starting to scare me, jerk. Wake up, like the old times, remember? When.. when you used to save me from all those street fights, shit, remember, huh? And..and you would always get beaten up, fuck, and you'd still smile at me and bring us home. ”
A soft hum came from his throat as Bucky reached up to touch Steve's cheek. It
was such a soft contrast to the rough pain he’d felt only moments ago.
He seemed to smile.
“Goddamnit Buck, how the hell am I gonna fix this? You’re…”
His hands shook as they hovered over the bruised body below him, eyes scanning for a solution.
This was too much. He was too hurt.
“Can you…can you breathe for me? That counting shit you do, I think it’s like five in and eight
out? No, that’s wrong. That’s wrong! I can’t…just t-try and breathe, okay? I’ll find us something,
just hang on. You’ve held off worse. You can't die like this, no, breathe, please..”
His heart rate jumped up once he heard a tiny, strained cry come from his partner’s throat. He was
trying to speak, probably a swear, but he couldn’t make any other noise. He couldn’t speak.
He wouldn’t have any last words to give him.
“Please Bucky, just breathe. You’ve gotta clear those lungs, you’ll suffocate if you don’t..”
He draped the jacket over his shaking body, still trying to search for help. Anything to get him out
alive. Anything to keep him.
But they were alone. Oh, so alone.
Bucky leaned into the hands that grasped his cheeks, not responding to his incessant shaking.
He was holding him too tight, and his hands were so cold, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Steve felt his body freeze when he looked down to see Bucky reach up, holding his hands in his
own.
“Buck, I-come on, you’re not just gonna leave me alone here, right? I mean, Sam is obnoxious
and Nat is a pain, and don’t even get me started on Tony-you can’t just leave me with those
idiots. You gotta be there. You’re the only one..”
Bucky only smiled. He looked nice when he smiled. Sweet.
Steve's eyes started to steam. His vision blurred as his lenses burned, smoke rising in thick streams
to replace tears he couldn’t release.
“Please Bucky. I’ve lost everything..”
He took one of his weak hands, pressing it to his scarred cheek. His fingertips felt rough.
“I don’t want to lose you again, please..”
He had grown to expect some kind of a joke or insulting reassurance from him. It was only
customary from Bucky.
So it only broke his heart when he saw him give another soft smile, tilting his head to kiss the palm
next to his cheek.
Steve felt his chest sink in. Muscle tore are shredded as it dwindled into the hole.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare do that sweet shit.. not now, Bucky, we'll.. we'll get thought this, okay? We- we always do. You know, just you and me, breathe. You're not gonna give up on me.. not when-“
He couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat. All he could really feel was Bucky's cold
cheek in his hand, and his fingers on his own face.
And he got an idea.
“Hey, Buck, you know I…I don’t really-fuck, I think I love you, if that makes sense.. I should've kissed you back then, do you remember.? I was stupid, so stupid, Bucky, please.. I..I really can’t see myself without you. You know that, right?”
He got a nod. He blinked away vapor to see those bright blue eyes. Gems glistened in his eye
sockets, tears leaving tracks on his dirty face.
Steve brought up one hand slowly, taking a slow, deep breath. This was it. His last moments with
him. All he had left was crashing in front of him.
And he wasn't ready.
He let his palm lay atop Bucky's.
He pulled the hand away and put it back, not receiving any resistance from its owner.
He let himself scream in frustration and anger.
Steve looked down to Bucky, trying to restrain the output of smoke.
“Just-just hang on, jerk. You’ll be okay, I’ll get you out of here..”
He was still smiling. His cheeks didn’t move, didn’t even twitch.
“Buck?B-bucky.?”
He nudged his cheek, bright blue eyes still set on his steaming face. But there was no life to those eyes. No, they were a freeze frame. A ghost of what had lived within them.
Steve dropped the body in his grasp, backing up to the wall. Thick brick foundation met his bare
shoulders, scraping the already bruised skin as he slid down to the ground. Even from here, he
could see Bucky's light skin glisten in the light of the fire roaring around them. He couldn’t seem
to notice the flames until now.
And his hair. His soft, beautiful hair that he would run his fingers through with grace while he talked.
And those blue eyes, still so full of adoration for someone who didn’t deserve it.
And the burns.
Those deep welts and oozing blisters that decorated the body he worshipped. The body he loved,
destroyed by the demon he hated most of all, the organisation that ruined his whole life. Twice.
And he just screamed.