Chapter 8
Steve stayed by Bucky’s side for a long time. He clutched his hand, traced the curve of his cheek down to his jaw, listened to the familiar sounds of his breathing as it finally started evening out. A few times, Bucky opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he was so worn down with pain and stress that he didn’t seem able to find the words. Every time it happened, Steve just shook his head, imploring Bucky to get some rest. Eventually he did, his exhausted eyes falling closed a little longer with each blink until they finally slipped shut.
Once he was certain that Bucky was sleeping soundly, Steve took a long look at his face, all the lines and shapes he knew by heart, before forcing his eyes away, pulling his hand from Bucky’s loosened grip. He climbed carefully to his feet, extinguishing the dying light of the candle before slipping out of the room.
The storm outside was still raging full-force. Steve stood in the hallway and listened as it battered the walls, all that wind and rain and thunder, just letting the sounds wash over him.
It was late, he knew. He should go to bed. Or clean up the mess in the kitchen. Or pick up his sketchbook again, force himself to draw something new for once instead of just staring at the book’s blank pages. But he couldn’t bring himself to do any of that. He couldn’t just keep going as though nothing had changed, not now that his world had been knocked completely off its axis.
Another long, low peal of thunder sounded, and when it let up, everything was quiet. Steve could no longer hear the soft sounds of the radio playing in the other room or the buzz of the kitchen’s dim electric lights. He moved to investigate and found their living area dark, the power finally having fizzled out in deference to the storm. Even the light from outside that usually filtered in through their window at night was dimmer than usual, a soft grey color unlike that of New York’s orange streetlights.
Still trancelike, Steve drifted to the window, prying it open in an attempt to see past the rainwater running down the glass. Without a barrier between him and the city beyond, Steve realized the rain wasn’t the only thing obscuring his vision - the whole block had gone dark, the power outage evidently having wiped out more than just their apartment. As far as he could see, the city looked shadowed, hollow.
He’d lived his entire life in New York, and somehow he’d never seen it look so empty. He had to get a better view. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was moving out of the shelter of the apartment and onto the fire escape, sinking to his knees in the exact spot where Bucky spent his days sitting, looking at the sky.
Bucky. Even as the storm raged on around him, rain flattening his hair and soaking through his clothes, all Steve could think about was Bucky.
The thing was, Steve was used to losing people. He’d lost his dad before he’d even really known him. He’d lost his mom when he was barely eighteen. The Barnes family had welcomed him with open arms, but when they’d all packed up and headed to Indiana, Steve had felt like he’d lost them, too. The only person who’d been there through it all, whose absences were only ever temporary, who’d promised to come back to him no matter where he went, was Bucky. And now Bucky was leaving too. Without him, Steve truly didn’t know what he’d have left.
He wanted to cry, wanted to clench his fists and fight over the sheer unfairness of it all, but he was too empty to do anything at all. He settled for tilting his head back and letting the rain wash over him, looking up at the heavy cover of clouds and trying like Bucky always did to find even the smallest sliver of open sky.
Steve didn’t know how long he sat there in the rain. He knew it was a long time - knew it was probably too long, knew he was risking ruining his clothes or catching a cold or something else equally trivial. But all the possible consequences paled in comparison with the gaping hole that seemed to have opened up in his chest.
He should have seen this coming. He should have known. Of course he couldn’t keep living this life with Bucky forever, not when Bucky needed more than he was able to give. No matter how much Steve tried to make things better, he wouldn’t be enough.
Time was hard to keep track of, but Steve at least knew he stayed sitting there long enough for the storm to start petering out, for the rain to slow to a trickle and for some of the lights on the far edge of the city to blink back on. The wall of the building at his back had at least shielded him from the worst of the slanted downpour, but his hair was wet, plastered to his forehead, and his shirt was damp against his arms. He was just beginning to consider going inside to dry off when he heard the distant sound of a voice behind him.
“Steve?”
It was Bucky. Steve clambered to his feet and peered inside to find him standing in the kitchen. He looked like he’d just woken up, clothes rumpled and hair mussed out of place. He stared blankly at the open window, like he wasn’t sure if the image was real or if he might still be dreaming.
“What the hell? It’s pouring out there. You’re gonna catch a cold.” His voice sounded foggy, half-asleep or maybe lost in memory.
“Sorry,” was all Steve could think to say.
“You left the window open.”
“Sorry.”
“I woke up and I thought you were… I didn’t know where you went.”
Steve remembered the desperate look on Bucky’s face when he’d begged for company just a few hours before, and he felt himself deflating. “I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t keep looking at Bucky, standing there in the space they’d always shared, staring at him with concern shining in his eyes, the same way he did every single time Steve got into something over his head and Bucky had to pull him out. Steve bit his lip to keep it from trembling as he turned away, sinking back to his knees and returning his focus to the cloudy sky.
After a moment he heard a rustle at the window, felt the platform beneath him creak under another body’s weight. Bucky had let himself out, supporting himself against the wall as he crouched to sit, mirroring Steve’s posture beside him. He smelled like warmth and sleep and home, and the familiarity of it all was almost more than Steve could handle.
“I’m sorry I left,” Steve said quietly as Bucky settled, feeling the need to voice it again. “Are you feeling any better?”
Bucky nodded. “I-I think so. Doesn’t hurt so bad anymore. Things just get so… mixed-up, sometimes.”
He was putting on a brave face, Steve could tell, but beneath it he still looked lost. The sight somehow hurt worse than all of Steve’s own heartbreak, and he knew. He still loved Bucky. He was sure he always would.
“Stevie?”
“Huh?” Steve reached up a hand to wipe away the tears he hadn’t realized were slipping down his face. He looked away from Bucky, hoping against hope that he wouldn't see, hoping he might think the tears were a few latent drops of rain. Steve Rogers never cried. Steve Rogers didn’t need anyone. Steve would be just fine here on his own.
“Hey.” Bucky moved closer, wrapping his arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders, pulling him in. It felt so right, which only made the tears want to come faster. Steve gritted his teeth against them, refusing to let them through.
“Steve. Stevie, you’re fine, it’s okay,” Bucky was saying. “What’s going on?”
Steve didn’t trust himself to speak. He hardly even knew what he’d say. He pulled away from Bucky’s warm touch, still trying to hide his face.
“It’s just -” Steve’s voice came out strangled, and he cleared his throat to force the words out. “I know you need to go. I know that.”
He took a deep breath, staring out toward the lights at the edge of the city, hazy in the aftermath of the storm.
“But I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to leave.”
Bucky was quiet. All Steve could hear was water dripping from the fire escape, draining down from the rooftops. Guilt rolled over him in waves.
Bucky was the one who needed help, not him. Bucky needed safety, and comfort, and space. Whatever Steve wanted should have come second to all that.
Bucky finally broke the silence with a sigh. He tilted his head back against the wall, closed his eyes.
“God, Steve, I don’t either. And it’s killing me. I just - I can’t stay. I can’t keep doing this. But I also can’t…” his voice trailed off into a whisper. “I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do without you.”
“I’d go with you.” The words just slipped out, too desperate for Steve to even feel ashamed for them. “I’d go wherever you wanted me to. Just say the word and I would.”
Bucky was already shaking his head. “Steve, you can’t…”
“I can’t? I can’t what?”
“You can’t just - I don’t know, drop everything to pack up and follow me. It’s not fair. You have a life here, Stevie. And I don’t. Not anymore.” Bucky grimaced, self-loathing written all across his face. “Maybe with me gone you’ll finally get a chance to live yours.”
“No.” Steve firmly shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. I don’t have anything other than you. I -”
I love you, he thought. He couldn’t say it.
“That’s not true,” Bucky sighed. “Steve, you’re - you’re so much more than that. You’re so much more than me. All I’m doing here is holding you back.”
Steve scoffed. As though, between the two of them, Bucky had ever been the one holding him back.
“Even if that were true, which it’s not ,” he argued, “don’t I still get a choice? What about what I want? What if - what if I don’t want to stay here without you?”
“Hell, Steve, you think that’s what I want?” Bucky’s voice was shaking. “Of course I want you with me. Always. That’s the whole reason I didn’t wanna go. Had nothing to do with leaving New York. I just didn’t wanna leave you. But to ask you to come with me…” He took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s selfish. I can’t make you give your whole life up for me, not when I…” His voice died in his throat.
“When you what, Buck?” Steve asked, maybe a little too sharply.
He turned so he was facing Bucky. He could see Bucky’s lips twitching, like he had something he desperately needed to say, but the words wouldn’t come. He looked to Steve, wild-eyed.
“I…”
Steve stared at him expectantly.
“I… dammit, Steve, I can’t. You’d never… I can’t.”
It was clear he’d given up. Steve did his best to swallow his frustration, his anger. Bucky had been through enough tonight. Over the past three years, really, he’d been through enough. It was Steve’s turn to be the brave one. Bucky had said so, hadn’t he? It was time Steve learned how to lead.
“Okay. Hey.” Steve reached out, steadied Bucky’s chin so that their eyes were locked on each other. He felt his hand drift to Bucky’s cheek, tracing his cheekbone, trailing against stubble. It was a gesture he’d repeated often enough since Bucky’s return, so much so that it felt like second nature now. But something inside him was compelling him to push it further. He moved his fingers towards Bucky’s ear, tucking a few stray curls behind it before following the line of his jaw with his thumb, tenderly mapping the curves of his face.
It wasn’t just Bucky leaving things unspoken. There was something that Steve needed to say, too. And maybe he couldn't find the words either - but he could still show it, could show Bucky exactly what he meant to him. With time running out, he’d be damned if he didn't at least try.
Bucky’s skin was warm under Steve’s cool fingers. His pulse fluttered rapidly in his neck. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at Steve with wide eyes.
“You don’t have to say it,” Steve murmured. Everything inside him was on fire, every nerve screaming at their closeness, but his voice was detached, calm. “You don’t gotta say anything. Just… tell me to stop.”
Bucky didn’t.
In the end, Steve wasn’t sure who moved, him or Bucky. It was more like some shared force was tugging at them - like maybe it had been for a long time, but they’d only just stopped fighting against it. Steve’s vision tunneled, the darkened streets of Brooklyn falling away until all he could see was Bucky’s face, his eyes and cheeks and the perfect curve of his mouth, but still fleeting, still falling, until everything was dark. Suddenly the world was all feeling, dizzy adrenaline and the press of lips together.
It wasn’t quite the deep, easy kiss he’d been imagining. Instead it was soft, tentative, over all too quickly. Once the head rush abated and Steve came back to himself, realized the gravity of the line they’d just crossed, he broke away. He could feel Bucky doing the same, the warmth of his mouth disappearing as he leaned back. They sat for a moment face to face, staring at each other, like they were somehow suddenly strangers as well as friends.
For one terrifying moment, Steve thought they’d ruined it all. But then Bucky was smiling, and he felt himself smiling too, and all that fear was giving way to relief.
“Steve, that was…” Bucky was looking at Steve with something like disbelief, like he was a gift too good to be true. “Are you… is this really what you want?”
Steve couldn’t help but laugh, voice cracking with the pressure of emotion even as he smiled. “Can’t believe you gotta ask me that, Buck. This is all I want. I just - I just want you.”
Bucky shook his head. “God. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted... this. You.”
Steve grinned, the pressures of all their surrounding circumstances momentarily falling away. He had a thousand questions to ask, but for the moment they could wait. He was still lost in the revelation that Bucky wanted him, too. There was overwhelming relief in the knowledge that, throughout all this, he hadn’t been alone.
“What took us so long, then?” he asked, only half-jokingly.
“I dunno. Didn’t want to say anything. I just never wanted to ruin it, y’know?” Bucky’s smile was flattening into seriousness. “And maybe… maybe before, things would have been easier, but things are different now. I’m… different. And I just - I never wanted to drag you into all that.”
“Buck, it’s not like that,” Steve said softly. “Even if I didn’t owe you for the million times I’ve dragged you into my own fights, I’d still want to be with you, no matter what. And I’d want to help you out whenever you needed it. But…”
Steve forced himself to look into Bucky’s eyes. If they were going to do this, there was something else Bucky deserved to know. “You’re right. Things are different now. And I… I don’t know if I can be everything you need. I don’t know if I know how.”
Steve expected agreement, concern. It was all he’d been worried about since Bucky had come home broken in ways he was afraid he couldn’t fix - that he wasn’t enough, and that Bucky knew it. But all he got in response was a sideways smile.
“Thing is,” Bucky said, “you don’t have to. You don’t gotta make everything perfect. Don’t know if anyone can anymore. But as long as you’re with me, I think I’ll be alright.”
Steve searched Bucky’s face and found nothing but sincerity there.
“But… you’re still leaving?”
“Come with me.” Bucky said it without hesitation.
“I thought you didn't -”
“I didn’t want to ask you. Not when I thought it meant more to me than it’d mean to you. But now, if you still want to, I’d - of course I’d want you to come. Those three years were long enough. Don’t ever wanna be without you like that again.”
Steve was leaning in again, like there was a magnet drawing him, like he couldn’t move away even if he tried.
“Me neither,” he breathed, and Bucky moved to close the distance.
The second kiss was nothing like the first. It was deep and sure and felt like everything Steve had ever imagined it would. Maybe he was leaving New York, maybe he was leaving everything familiar behind, but it didn’t matter. He never wanted to pull away.
When it was over he leaned over to burrow against Bucky’s chest, let Bucky drape his arm around his shoulders and pull him close. Steve knew they ought to go in, knew Bucky knew it too, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. They sat holding each other until the clouds began to clear and the sky turned pink with the rising sun.
“I…” Steve whispered eventually into the long stretch of quiet.
“Hmm?” Bucky sounded peaceful, more so than he had in a long time.
“I missed you,” Steve finished. It wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted to say, but the morning calm still seemed too fragile for stronger words.
“I missed you too, pal,” Bucky said, and buried his nose in Steve’s hair.
I love you, Steve thought. He still couldn’t say it. But this time he was pretty sure Bucky understood.