Chapter 23
He didn't show
That wouldn't have happened. That couldn't have happened.
Bucky doesn't hesitate to write Steve back as soon as he rereads the letter a few times.
That wouldn't have happened. Bucky would've been there. He wouldn't have forgotten. Something had to have happened. Maybe he got the wrong restaurant. Got the wrong day. And what did he mean like he did with Sam? What wasn't Steve telling him.
Steve! This can't be it. It has to be a mistake. I wouldn't have missed it. You know me by now, I'm not a liar. Despite what you for some reason are suddenly thinking, I'm as much myself on paper as I am in person. Please, Steve. You have to believe me. Something must've happened. Maybe I got the wrong restaurant. Or I had to go out of town suddenly? Maybe we didn't recognize each other or ...no i would've given my name to the host but... maybe I went to the wrong place or had the wrong day. I marked it in my phone I swear but who knows if I get an upgrade it'll wipe that out? And what about Sam? What happened with Sam? Please Steve write me back. This can't be the end of it.
Love you still and always,
Bucky
This has to be a bad dream. Bucky will wake up and in the mailbox will be the letter he was supposed to get. The letter perfectly describing their magical first day together and Bucky will wait till the day it happens for him. He'll make a 24 month calendar and slowly mark down the days and then Steve and him can be together like they've dreamed about.
Bucky wouldn't have not shown up. He would have done everything in his power to be there. Maybe he should send another letter confirming the day, the place, the time? He'll wait for Steve to answer to this one first, if Steve was already angry about Bucky not showing up he didn't want to further bother him by sending him several letters.
God, please Steve. Write me back Bucky silently begs.
Steve doesn't.
Bucky waits days. He doesn't.
Waits weeks. He still doesn't.
Steve rolls over in his bed, the cursed sun attacking him from the windows in this stupid house. After another half hour of trying to use his pillow to block out the brightness he decides to finally get up. He almost trips over his clothes on the floor. He'd have to clean some of this up if he was going to be allowing possible renters in here to look around. He makes his way downstairs after checking the time on his phone.
10:30.
Unfortunately, he was off today. He had been picking up shifts to occupy his time and not think about- him.
He makes himself breakfast and is about to go sit on the couch he's lived on and pick something to watch all day when he hears crying by his front door. He ignores it at first thinking he was just hearing things. He hears it again and goes to open his phone thinking maybe it was an ad on there. Nothing. It stops and puts his coffee and cereal on the coffee table in front of the couch. He picks up the remote and hears it again. This time paired with scratching.
He puts the remote down and slowly walks to the front door, wishing he had a bat or something. Not exactly to hurt whatever was on the other side but more so to scare it away, especially if it was something that could be rabid. He hears more crying as apparently he wasn't moving fast enough.
"I'm coming..." he says and then shakes his head in embarrassment. Yeah I'm sure it'll understand that. He peaks through the eye hole on the door and tries to peer down. His eyes squint in confusion, only seeing a pile of hair. He opens the door slowly and the noise maker lifts his head as he does so.
It's a dog. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. A medium sized. Golden. Retriever.
"Wait a minute," Steve says, thinking. He bends down to pet the dog. Moves some fur in every which way. He looks at the bandanna on his neck, something a dog like this, that he once knew about, would wear. He checks his paws, finds his birthmarks that were described. He doesn't even need to look at the collar under his bandanna to know.
"Jack?" Steve asks. The dog perks up more and his tail starts wagging. "You can't be serious." And Steve does in fact grab the dog's blue collar and turn the tag over in his hand to read the name.
My name is Jack.
If found please return:
Underneath reads the address, to the place Steve's feet were standing on. "You got to be kidding me..." Steve sighs. "He left you too, buddy?" He asks the dog.
Jack whines almost as a confirmation. Steve pets Jack's head as he looks past him to the mailbox. The flag is up like it has been plenty of times this past month, Steve usually walked over there and slammed it down again. He's not sure if that means Bucky is getting his returned letters or if they're still piled up in his but he doesn't care. He opens the front door of the house and lets the dog in. He closes it behind him and makes his way to the box that was once so special to him. He opens it to find a few letters in there. He pockets them and slams the flag down once again.
He makes his way inside and watches the dog get comfortable in the living room as if he never left. As he watches Jack he pens one last letter.
It's short. It's not sweet.
You want to hear something crazy? Just when I didn't think it could get worse it does. It's painful to even think about you, painful to even look at the mailbox and see the flag up. Something that once gave me so much joy is just nothing. Meaningless. A joke. But I though hell you hurt me, you hurt Sam. That has to be the worst of it huh? But Jack? You loved that dog? And he loved you and you just white fang-ed him. Told him to go? Bet you told him he was a bad dog or some shit so he wouldn't follow you. Did you leave him on the side of the road and just take off?
Wanna know how I know? Because they poor thing showed up here, as if he'd find you here. He was sitting on MY porch crying. Dog's may be a small part of our life but we're all of theirs and you just got rid of him? I didn't think I could be more wrong about someone. Maybe me and Sam are better off. And Jack too. Don't worry. I'll be sure to take care of him.
Don't write me back. I'm putting the place on the market and hopefully that will be the end of it all. Maybe you can bother them instead.
-Steven Rogers
It's cruel, unnecessarily so, and Steve regrets it as soon as he closes the lid on the mailbox. He regrets it so much he opens it up again to retrieve it, something him and Bucky swore not to do in case it messed with the magic. That magic reveals itself when Steve opens it and finds the letter gone.
Huh...Guess it was real. Is all he thinks. But a few minutes later says to himself Or there's a hidden slot that leads to an even more hidden compartment.
As much as he regrets sending the letter, he doesn't regret it enough to write another one back.
He turns back to the house, walking up the walkway and notices Jack watching him through the front door window. He makes his way inside and the dog follows him at his heels until he gets to the couch where he lays down next to Steve's feet.
Bucky reads Steve's letter. The pain of being excited and hopeful only to end up completely devastated once again is enough to fill the home that rested on this lake, that once felt so magical. It's enough to make him go to his...dark place but determination is enough to overcome it. He won't give up on this, won't give up on them. Many times he's wanted to give up on himself but this was too big, too special.
It hurt, too, that Jack managed to get away from him but the fact he found Steve has to mean something? I mean sure he went to the place that was his home for however long but he didn't attack Steve as he would a stranger. Jack was only quiet when it was someone he knew.
There was something Bucky had to do. Someway he could get to Steve.
The months pass and it doesn't get any easier without Bucky. He wants nothing more than to write him again, maybe even apologize but he knows in the end it'll hurt more. He'll only be disappointed yet again. He keeps his anger up, anger helped him.
Christmas was hard, once again not having the holiday to share it with and he remembers Bucky loved Christmas and so did Steve, which then of course means this year Steve hated it. And as Christmas passes a certain anniversary quickly approaches. Steve tries to bury that too but he can't because everything reminds him of it. Valentines decorations come out as soon as Christmas is over.
He still hasn't been able to sell the place and he tells himself it would be a waste of money if he didn't stay there at least a few times a month (or week). He does notice the flag isn't up as much since he sent the letter about Jack. He hates the sigh of relief he breathes when he goes outside and it is up. He still doesn't read them though, just gathers them up and puts it with the others.
The weekend before the...day that should not be named... his friends (sans Sam) decided to take him out, noticing he's been "down in the dumps". They know he hasn't talked about the "pen pal" he had anymore nor does he mention the gorgeous bartender he had once inquired about (they don't know they're the same person). They convince him to go out. The usual- drinks, bar hopping. He agrees without much hesitation. Might as well take his mind off of everything at least for a little while.
It doesn't take much to get Steve tipsy anymore.
Doesn't take much to get him drunk.
By the time they move on to the fourth bar they're all linked in arms, laughing and singing, pulling each other along the street. They find their way to a familiar line of bars, familiar to his friends not to Steve, he's never been out this way. They stop in front of a bar, thanks to the leader of the arm link...Steve doesn't remember but it was probably Montgomery.
His friends all "Ooo" and "Ahhh" at the front of the bar and looks at Steve with a knowing look. Steve doesn't understand though, he's never been here.
Then he looks at the sign. His stomach is in his throat, the beers he's chugged all night threaten to come up. In bright white lights read "WINTER BELLE", Bucky's bar. He wants to protest but can't get the words out. He's not sure what he'll do if Bucky is there. He was a much more confrontational person on paper not so much in person. He wonders if Bucky would be the same. Then again it would've been 2 years ago for this Bucky so maybe he was over it, long forgotten.
He still wants to stay put, if Bucky was actually in there he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him. He would've successfully stayed put too if it hadn't been for the fact that he couldn't move his legs on his own, so therefore it was pretty easy for his friends to drag him in.
"No, guys. Come on," he finally gets out as they move further in the place towards the bar. "Guys."
"Steve... We know you got a thing for the guy..." Montgomery says.
"I don't-"
"We know about the picture," Dum Dum stops him. Steve gives Montgomery a stare that if Steve's eyes were lasers would've taken Montgomery's head clean off.
Montgomery just shrugs.
Before Steve can pull away Dum Dum grabs him again and pulls him towards the bar. The rest follow, Montgomery the guilty caboose.
"Barkeep!" Dum Dum slaps the table. "I have an inquiry"
Whoever was at the bar, definitely not Bucky, rolls his eyes towards Dum Dum and then puts on the fakest smile. "What can I get you?"
"Oh no drinks yet," Dum Dum says. "The owner of this nice establishment...is he here tonight?"
The man looks at him, hesitating. "Umm that's kind of up in the air still but I can get you the manager?" Poor guy probably thought Dum Dum had a complaint.
"Manager....owner...what's the difference?"
"Right...Well he's just in the back," the bartender points to the back room with his thumb. "Do you...need me to get him?"
"Please," Dum Dum says and offers the man a smile letting him know he's not in trouble.
Good. At least let the innocent bartender breathe if I'm not able to, Steve thinks. He can feel his heart pounding faster and faster as he waits for the two of them to emerge from the back office.
"Guys we should reall-" Steve starts to say until he sees the men coming out from the office and into the bar.
There's the bartender from earlier and then a short, middle aged, slightly heavyset man behind him. Steve's eyes squint, confused. Did Bucky sell the bar too? He really got rid of everything that meant anything to him in just a few short years? Jesus. Steve almost doesn't feel as bad that Bucky forgot about him since he clearly forgot about everything else! He feels himself grow angry again.
He watches as the man now in front of them holds out his hand to Dum Dum to shake for an introduction. The man seems nervous, like all of this was above his head and Steve is mad at Bucky for him.
"I'm Alfie," The man says. "What can I do for you?"
"No, no," He turns to the bartender from earlier. "Where's the other one?"
"I'm sorry?" Alfie asks.
"You know? Tall, blue eyes, long hair....well sometimes?" He turns to Steve remembering the picture Mongtomery described. "Sometimes."
Both workers still look confused and the bartender excuses himself to get back to behind the bar.
"Like really gorgeous with a hint of darkness?" Dum Dum tries to further explain as if that description would help.
"I uh..."
"Jesus what was his name?" He turns to Steve. "Come on, Steve."
Steve crosses his arms and mumbles something.
"Steve...man" He nudges his friend in the rib cage.
"Bucky," Steve says more clearly. "Bucky!"
Steve can see stranger's eyes in front of him go wide. "Oh...I...it's been a while since..." the man trails off.
"So what he sell or something?" Dum Dum asks.
"No...no he," Alfie clears his throat.
They should already know what he's about to say with the look he's giving and the hesitating. But it still shocks Steve when he hears it. He blood runs cold and suddenly everything makes sense and nothing make sense all at once. And even if it made sense it wouldn't matter because Bucky was-
"Dead," Alfie says. "He died."
"When?" Someone gets out after a long silence. Steve is unaware who but it sounds so far away, so distant.
"It'll be 2 years," Alfie states.
They were all looking at Alfie, glued to his words but as they turn to Steve to offer their condolences he's gone.
Steve is running, running he knows not to where. He suddenly feels sober, too sober, too sober to be dealing with this.
Bucky is dead. He's dead and Steve did nothing but yell at him about it.
He, stops at some point, paces back and forth. He doesn't realize he's dialed a number, let alone put his phone to his ear until hears a dial tone ringing.
"Hello?" Steve hears on the other end. It's Sam. He called Sam.
"He's dead," Steve says quietly. Not sure if it was too quiet to hear.
"What?" He hears the phone move. Probably Sam checking who the caller was. "Steve?" Yup "Steve, It’s 3 in the morn-"
"He’s dead," Steve says more clearly now. "He's dead, he's dead, oh god."
"Who?" Sam asks, still groggy. "Who’s dead? Steve I-"
"Bucky! Bucky is dead." It comes out rushed. Steve didn't think, didn't prepare Sam for what he was about to say.
Sam's voice turns quickly from concern to anger "The fuck...Steve."
"Tell me it's not true?"
"You’re calling me at 3 in the FUCKING morning taunting me about my dead best friend AGAIN?"
"I didn’t know. OH god. I didn’t know… It can’t be true. I loved him...Sam."
"Love? You didn’t even know him, Steve!" Steve never heard Sam so angry. "You met him once at a party he for some reason didn’t want me reminding you of!"
"I can explain. I can explain all that just tell me-tell me when?"
"What?"
"When did he die? I need to know when?" Steve pleads.
"Enough." Sam sounds defeated. "I don’t want you calling me anymore."
"Wait don't," Steve has to stop him, has to give him something now or he won't be able to do this.
"Don't what?" Sam yells.
"Don't hang up."
"Give me one reason why I shouldn’t?"
And just before Same decides to anyways without hearing Steve, Steve says it.
"I can save him."