Bucky looks over at Steve on the couch.
The sun is still shining, even though it's late, and the light falls into their apartment in a golden halo.
Parts of Steve's face is painted with the late sunshine, making his hair look even more golden than usual and his eyes bluer. The rest of his face falls into shadow, making a contrast so striking that Bucky's fingers ache for a paper and a pen to capture the scene, even though he's been bad at drawing his whole life. Bucky can't even draw a straight line if so the whole world depended on it, no matter how many afternoons Steve wastes trying to teach him.
Steve seems unaware of how much he looks like one of the paintings Bucky always sees in the museums Steve likes so much. He’s completely concentrated on what he’s drawing. The shadow of a smile lingers on his lips as he balances his sketchbook against his knees.
Bucky's heart clenches at how beautiful he is.
He could do this for hours, watch Steve draw, see how his expressions changes and distractedly wonder what happens on his paper when he grimaces or when he raises his eyebrows.
Steve never catches him looking either. He's always so caught in his world and what he creates that anything that won't come down on the paper in front of him doesn't matter. It's like parts of him shut off, like his whole body is fully concentrated on that one thing. All of his expressions are so colorful, so much unfiltered Steve that it almost hurts.
Bucky loves it.
He might be a bit biased, because he loves everything about Steve. He loves the way his hair never seems to stay in one place, how he smiles with his mouth closed, how fucking stubborn he is, how pink his lips always get when they go outside, how bad he is at dancing, how he always tries so hard, even after he’s fucked up, the way he can stand and stare at the same painting for what seems like hours to Bucky, how he never can keep his mouth shut, even though it always gets him into trouble.
He loves the way Steve licks his lips after drinking something, the way he stretches like a cat on the couch after drawing, the way his spine makes itself visible against his shirt when he bends over, so protruding that Bucky can count every vertebra. How he sleeps either curled into himself or stretches out on the bed to take up as much place as possible, like he wants to make himself bigger.
Who he wants to fool, Bucky has no idea. He knows Steve better than he knows that the sky is blue and that grass is green. He knows exactly how much place Steve’s body takes up, how warm he feels against Bucky, even though Steve’s hands are always cold. He knows how Steve's jaw feel under his fingers, he knows how his ribs stick out from his body, he knows how small he always feels whenever Bucky touches him.
He knows everything he is supposed to know, and a little more, as a friend and nothing else.
Bucky wishes to know Steve as his lover.
He wishes he knew how soft the skin on the inside of his thighs are, if he bruises easily and if he would like it if Bucky marked him up. If he would moan Bucky’s name or if he would whisper it or if he would say nothing at all. How his hips would feel under his hands, or how his neck would feel under his lips.
He wishes he could know without it being wrong.
He wishes he could be in love with Steve without dying for it. He wishes he could tell all the pretty girls “sorry ladies, I already have a boy waiting for me at home.”
But, most of all, he wishes that Steve would love him back.
Steve doesn’t know this, of course.
Bucky resigns to watch Steve drawing on the couch and only daydream about how soft his lips are, because that means he won’t lose him. That means he can keep him as his friend and get away with standing a little too close sometimes or being a little too intimate, instead of living a life which Steve wouldn’t be a part of.
Steve shifts on the couch. It's a sign he's going to come back to reality soon, Bucky knows, so he tears his eyes away from Steve to the book he's been pretending to read. And, sure enough, Bucky hears Steve's sketchbook being put down on the table.
Bucky looks at Steve again, pretending like that isn't what he's been doing the entire time.
Steve stretches and yawns, and then looks over at Bucky and smiles. Bucky really tries to ignore how fucking enticing Steve looks when his hair is all muzzled and his eyes are all happy and tired and when none of his usual walls are up yet. It’s just Steve, vulnerable and disoriented and real.
Bucky has to look away from Steve to even be able to talk. He stares down at the pages of the book without reading.
“Back in the real world now?” Bucky asks, and he is relieved to hear that he sounds perfectly normal. Bucky is an expert in hiding how he really feels around Steve. He has had years to practice, after all.
“You bet,” Steve says and Bucky can hear him get up and walk away, but Bucky doesn’t dare look up. He rereads a sentence over and over again, until it doesn't make any sense and his head spins.
And then Bucky remembers that he still has to put up a facade and has to look up anyway.
“Hey, by the way, you remember the girl from last week?” he asks, a little louder than usual. Steve hums back from where Bucky can’t see him. “I kinda promised her we would go on a double date with her and her friend.” Bucky already knows the effect this will have on Steve, but grimaces slightly anyway when Steve groans and comes back into Bucky’s view range, just to glare at him.
Bucky aches at how pretty Steve is, even when he's pissed and glaring daggers at Bucky.
“Really? When?”
“Uh, today.”
“ Bucky. ”
“I know, I know. But we’re free from work and I thought it would be fun.”
“Why is it that you always fail to ask me before you promise? Oh, right, because you know I’ll say no.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. It’ll be fun.” Bucky cringes at himself. His voice is too giddy to sound sincere. He actually doesn’t want to go today, either.
Usually, he’s all for it. Girls are good distraction from Steve. They’re soft, smell good, he loves the way they say his name and how they taste on his lips. They take his mind off of things and he doesn’t have to worry that someone will beat him or the girl to death in an dark alley because they hold hands in public. They’re uncomplicated and they want him and it’s so easy to just give himself to them and it feels so goddamn good.
But if Bucky got to choose, which he doesn't get to, ever, he would choose Steve every time.
So Bucky grits his teeth and forces a smile as he looks up at Steve and tries to convince him with the hollow promise that it’ll be fun a third time and Steve huffs and says fine and Bucky has to continue smiling and pretend like his heart isn’t dying.
--
"It's cold."
"It's always cold."
"If I get sick and die now, it'll be your fault."
Bucky and Steve are waiting for Kathy and Mary, and the sun has gone down some time ago now.
And Steve’s right, it’s cold. When they breathe, the air comes out white, and they stomp their feet and rub their hands to keep their warmth. Steve is adorable, his hair sticking out every way under his hat, his cheeks and lips red from the cold, and Bucky has to tear his eyes away from him all the time.
Bucky lit a cigarette some time ago, and he just lifted it to his mouth to take a drag, but he pauses with it mid-air, because Steve’s words makes his heart stop beating for a second.
“Don’t say that.” The words fall out Bucky’s mouth before he can stop them. Bucky’s voice comes out desperate and sad and he grimaces at himself.
Bucky doesn’t turn his head to look at Steve, but he can still see Steve looking at him, surprised, from the corner of his eye.
He takes a drag from his cigarette and holds back tears he has no idea where they came from.
What's wrong with him?
Bucky doesn't know what's going on with him today. He doesn't usually react like this.
“I was just kidding.” Steve sounds a little concerned. Bucky doesn't blame him. The two of them joke about all sorts of things, all the time, and Bucky has since long figured out that it's a coping mechanism for both of them. So even when the joke hurts, they laugh, knowing that the other needs it.
They never talk about it.
But Bucky just broke their rule and he knows he's close to messing up.
“Don’t kid about you dying,” he says and looks at Steve who huffs, shakes his head, and then smiles. Bucky swallows back the tears and tries a shaky smile that Steve doesn’t see.
“I’ll never figure you out, Barnes,” he says and Bucky smiles again, less shaky now, and they stand in silence again, but now it feels tense, and Bucky feels unsure of what he’s supposed to do. His heart is still beating too hard, because he was so close to fucking up, and he’s pretty sure Steve is looking at him, and Bucky is beginning to sweat, despite the cold, and he tries to ignore how weird he’s acting and hopes Steve does the same.
Then Steve opens his mouth to say something and something like adrenaline hits Bucky, but then Bucky spots the girls coming in their direction. When he waves at them, the tension between the two boys dies and Steve closes his mouth.
Bucky hasn't been more relieved in his entire life, but, at the same time, something that's suspiciously close to disappointment is filling his chest.
He drops the last of his cigarette to the ground with a spinning head and shaky hands and stomps it out.
“There are the girls. The red head must be Kathy. She’s yours.”
“You know how that usually works out,” Steve mutters, referring to how both girls always only has eyes for Bucky, even though one of them is meant to be on a date with Steve.
Bucky doesn’t say anything. He knows. He’s relieved every time.
“Hey, Mary, how’s it goin'?” Bucky shouts out a greeting and grins. Mary, a pretty blonde, waves back. She and Kathy are walking with hooked elbows.
“Hey, Barnes!” She shouts back. As they quickly come closer, Bucky starts walking towards them and Steve follows him slowly, dragging his feet.
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” he mutters.
“Be nice,” Bucky hisses back. Steve mumbles something too low for Bucky to hear, and he decides not to ask what because now they’re right in front of the girls.
Greetings are exchanged.
"How are you? It's good to see you!"
"I'm good, you too!"
"This is Steve."
“Hi, you must be Kathy, I’m Steve.”
Steve reaches out his hand for her to shake, and turns on his million-dollar-smile that makes Bucky's breath stutter a little in his throat every time he sees it.
He watches Kathy watch Steve and sees that she appreciates that Steve shook her hand and treated her like someone to count on, instead of just a girl he'll forget as soon as the date is over.
And Bucky knows something is different, can feel it in the way his stomach sinks, and the way that a cold feeling washes over him, the way his heart beats harder, even though his brain is trying to convince him that everything is fine.
So Bucky still waits, with a kind of hopeless hope, that Kathy will nod politely at Steve, or smile a little bleakly, and then turn to Bucky, like all the other girls do, but she doesn’t.
Instead, her bright eyes focus on Steve and and she smiles warmly and she keeps looking at him.
Bucky can see a blush creeping up Steve's neck as he smiles back.
There's a ringing in his ears, and he can see Kathy's and Steve's lips moving, but he can't hear them talking.
And something black and cold hits Bucky and suddenly he’s sure that this was a bad, bad, idea, and most of all he wants to drag Steve out of there and go home, or maybe tell Kathy to back off, which doesn’t make sense, because Steve isn’t his in any way that matters.
He knew this would happen, in theory, but he’s not ready. Not already. Not so soon. He needs, he wants more time.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Mary's talking, he realises.
He turns his head to her without hearing. She's smiling, so he smiles back and she can't see the panic in his eyes.
It seems like the right thing to do, because she laughs and hooks elbows with him.
He's not sure he's breathing anymore.
--
Bucky often thinks about how stupid the girls who doesn't cling on tight to Steve and then refuse to let go are.
He thinks all the girls must be the stupidest girls on the planet, because they had Steve right in front of them and still they didn’t take the opportunity and Bucky doesn’t understand why, he really doesn’t. They could go through all the guys in Brooklyn and wouldn't be able to find anyone better than Steve. Hell, all of New York, and they still wouldn't find anyone.
And he should like Kathy, because, finally, someone sees Steve the way he does, but damn it, he doesn’t. He hates her.
(And somewhere deep, deep, inside him, he knows he hates her because she can have what he never can.)
But he's not jealous, he tells himself. He's happy for Steve. A girl likes Steve, and Steve seems to like her back.
But the way his heart dies a little every time he hears Kathy's laughter and knows Steve must have been the one to do that, or when he sees Steve blushing, and the way his head hurts when he sees the two sitting close together, chatting and laughing, betrays the lie he's telling himself.
And Bucky suddenly understands the drunks in the street corners, because suddenly he's hit with the desire to drink so much he can't remember his name, nor think and then fall asleep in a ditch and never wake up again.
But he's not jealous.
He's happy for Steve.
He's happy, he's happy, he's happy, he's happy.
Of course he is.
His eyes go to Kathy and Steve sitting opposite him and Mary all the time, and he gets lost in regarding them.
He tries not to, he tries to talk to Mary, and not make himself too obvious, but his insides feels like they're being slashed with a knife.
So when Mary stands up and proposes that they go dancing, clearly growing tired over Bucky being so distracted, Bucky declines, for maybe the first time.
He loves dancing, has his whole life.
One cool afternoon a couple of years ago, Bucky dedicated the rest of the day to teach Steve how to dance.
Steve sucked at it, and Bucky was too distracted by Steve's waist under his hands to be a good teacher.
They laughed and laughed, and Steve stepped on Bucky's toes all the time and tripped on his own feet and Bucky couldn't stop smiling the whole time. He felt drunk on Steve's smiles and the way he kept falling into Bucky, and he's pretty sure that he at some point pressed his lips to the top of Steve's head.
But now, the last thing he wants to do is dance.
He feels like smoking a thousand cigarettes and getting drunk and lying on the couch, laughing at everything and he wants everything to be easy and he wants to forget for a while.
He wants to tell Steve how pretty he is, and he wants to kiss him on his beautiful mouth and then he wants to blame it on the booze.
He wants to go down to the docks and listen to the waves thrashing against concrete walls and listen to Steve talking about what he dreams about for maybe the thousandth time, because Bucky never grows tired of Steve's voice.
He wants to go home and forget for a little longer that he's going to lose Steve.
There's a thousand things he wants to do, and still, dancing isn't even in the top five hundred.
So, when Kathy stands up and says she needs to go to the bathroom first, and Mary offers to go with her, Bucky almost passes out with relief.
But then Kathy leans down to whisper something in Steve's ear and Steve blushes scarlett and the two girls leave hand in hand, giggling to themselves and blood starts rushing in Bucky's ears.
Steve looks at Bucky and smiles a little self-consciously.
Bucky feels sick.
"Let's get out of here." The words are out of Bucky's mouth before he can stop them, but as soon as they've fallen on his lips, he realises how much he wants Steve to say yes.
Steve stares at him and then opens his mouth slowly to speak. Bucky looks back, clenching his jaw, and refusing to let himself break.
"What?" Steve asks, confusion evident in his voice.
"Let's leave." Bucky smiles a little, but it doesn't reach his eyes and Steve gestures to the bathroom where the girls just disappeared into, confused.
"But--"
"Please." Bucky makes a face, and looks down, trying to hide how desperate he really is.
"C'mon. Please." Bucky doesn't say please, ever, and that's already twice in one night, but that's not what convinces Steve.
It's the look in his eyes.
It's desperate and sad and broken and fragile and something about it makes Steve's heart beat harder.
It leaves him breathless. The good kind, not the kind that makes his chest hurt and his throat close up and that makes Bucky frantic every time, even when Steve tries to convince him that he's fine.
"Steve", Bucky says again, misunderstanding Steve's silence.
Steve, for not the first time in his life, swears that Bucky Barnes will be the ruin of him.
But he wants nothing more than to make the empty look in Bucky's eyes to go away.
So Steve takes a deep breath and it feels like half an eternity has passed since Bucky last spoke.
"Yeah, okay."
--
Bucky has smoked through more cigarettes in one night than he usually does in a week. He blames Steve for it. Not because it's Steve's fault, per se, but he blames Steve.
After Steve said yes, they hurried out of the bar, and left without telling the girls like a couple of jackasses, but, honestly, Bucky doesn't give a shit. He couldn't care less.
He feels like he's silently burning up and he's angry. He's pissed as hell and he has no one to blame but himself. He was the one to go fall in love with Steve and now he's also the one who has to have his heart broken.
The night air is even cooler now and the stars are clear in the sky. Usually, Bucky would stop and point out all the constellations to Steve. His sister taught him before she left without saying goodbye.
But tonight, instead of making Steve's eyes brighter, he keeps quiet and smokes his cigarettes like he can't do anything else.
Steve doesn't say anything either. Bucky can see Steve looking at him from the corner of his eye and he knows Steve wants to ask what the hell is wrong with Bucky, but for some reason he doesn't.
And Bucky knows that it's inevitable, that they'll have to talk about it. But for now, they get to have a moment where they don't have to deal with everything.
For now, the two boys keep their silence. They walk home with cold hands and red ears under a clear night sky, both lost in thoughts about each other.
For now, they wait until they come home.
--
The worry is evident on Steve's face as soon as they step inside their apartment.
Bucky isn't ready to have this talk. He doesn't think he'll ever be. He feels unsteady and hurt and tired. He's not even angry anymore, he's just tired.
A dull kind of tired. He just--
He has no idea in hell how he'll lie his way out of this one.
He wants to go to bed and forget tonight ever happened, but Bucky knows Steve won't forget, because that son of a bitch never does.
Bucky takes of his jacket and his shoes and he goes to sit down in the couch and tips his head back, closing his eyes. His throat feels sore from the chain smoking, but he still wishes he had a cigarette right now.
"So, wanna tell me what's going on?" Steve's voice is sharp and cuts right through Bucky's foggy state of mind.
"Whaddya mean?" Bucky murmurs, then sighs and runs his hands through his hair, and opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling.
It has a couple of cracks and it's dirty and has yellow stains and, frankly, Bucky can't think of anything more disgusting right now.
"I mean, why the hell did you drag me out of a date with a girl who actually paid attention to me?”
"I don't know," Bucky says slowly.
Steve huffs, disbelieving. "You mean you don't have a reason."
A pause.
No answer.
Bucky closes his eyes again, waits for Steve to talk again.
"Seriously, Buck?" Bucky can almost feel Steve shaking his head. "You're such a jackass, you know that?"
"So what if I am?" Bucky suddenly snaps, having no idea where the anger blossomed from. "Huh? So what if I fucking am?"
" You don't get to be mad! I haven't done anything to you."
And Bucky wants to laugh, because Steve doesn't even know, and it's so ironic, it's so fucking ironic.
It hits him all at once.
Steve doesn't know. Steve will leave him. Steve can fall in love with whoever he wants. It's none of Bucky's business.
He can't fucking breathe.
"You don't even know, oh my god, " Bucky says, his voice raspy, desperate and closed off at the same time.
He wants to scream. He opts for standing up and gripping his hair at the roots and clench his jaw so hard he thinks he can feel a few teeth crack.
"Bucky, what the fuck is going on ?" Steve sounds panicky and scared and Bucky immediately opens his eyes and drops his hands from his hair, because that is how Steve usually sounds right before an asthma attack.
And, sure enough, Steve's breathing is becoming laboured.
Bucky's mind goes blank. He sees nothing but Steve.
He walks up to Steve in two long steps, coaxes him on down on the couch.
They manage to lure away the attack and Bucky hates himself.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry, I was just overreacting, it's nothing to worry about, all right? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. It's nothing, I swear, nothing."
"Bullshit," Steve gasps as soon as he gets enough air down.
"Steve--"
" Bullshit. I know you. Something's going on with you and it's cool if you don't wanna tell me, ( "Steve--" "It is "), but do not not tell me just because you think I can't take it. Don't baby me."
"You almost had an attack and I didn't even tell you. You can't take it."
"No, that was because you were behaving all weird and I got worried so I forgot to breathe for a minute, but I'm good, allright?"
"But--"
"Bucky, stop. You all of people know--"
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry." And Bucky feels even more like a jerk, because he knows how small it makes Steve feel when people don't listen to him. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Sorry."
"Stop saying sorry. It's not your fault. Alright? Let's just go to bed and… take care of it tomorrow."
Bucky smiles bitterly, tears pressing against the corner of his eyes. He doesn't want to take care of it tomorrow. He wants them to forget it, because it's too close to the truth, and he can't lie about it to Steve like usual. He can't keep up the walls when it's about this.
"Yeah, sure."
--
Their bedroom is on the right side on the building for moonlight to filter into the room in stripes. There's two narrow beds with flat pillows and thin blankets on either side of the room, though the boys usually manage to squeeze in one when it's cold, or when one of them just feels like it, even though they would never admit it out loud, always makes up excuses instead. It's easier that way.
Tonight, it's cold outside, but they still sleep in each bed by themselves, their almost-fight still looming over them.
Bucky is lying with his back to Steve, staring at the wall. He waits until Steve's breathing becomes deep and slow, and then Bucky closes his eyes and allows himself to cry.
He never cries in front of Steve. Not anymore. He used to. When they were younger, and he cried, he prefered it when Steve comforted him.
That was long ago now. He can't remember the last time Steve saw him cry. He always waits until Steve falls asleep before he lets the tears run down his cheeks and drench his pillow.
He doesn't know why. Not really. On good days, he tells himself it's because he doesn't want to bother Steve with insignificant problems, because Steve already has so many. On bad days, however, he tells himself that he doesn't want Steve to see how weak he really is.
Bucky doesn't hear that Steve's breathing suddenly becomes normal, that he turns in his bed and sees Bucky's shoulders shake. At first, Steve is confused, because he doesn't understand, but then he hears Bucky sniffle and Steve breaks a little inside.
Steve swallows. "Hey, Buck," he says, his voice so low he at first worries Bucky won't hear him. Bucky freezes.
"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and a little wobbly.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, sure." A pause. It seems like the whole world pauses with them. "Sorry for waking you."
"It's alright."
Silence falls again. Bucky hears Steve's sheets ruffle and Bucky turns around to look at him. The damage is already done. Bucky can't bother himself to care.
Steve's face is a light oval in the dark. It's too dark for him to see the look on Steve's face, but if he had to guess, he would think it was the one he always gets before he does something stupid, because suddenly Steve gets up from his bed with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He walks up to Bucky's bed and Bucky still can't see the look on his face and he wants to, he really, really wants to and he thinks his heart is about to rip itself from his ribcage with how hard it's beating.
Bucky raises himself onto his elbows. Steve's eyes gleam in the dark and Bucky thinks he can see butterflies slipping out of his own mouth and fluttering around in the room.
Neither of them say anything and suddenly Bucky is grateful of the dark, because he's pretty sure he's looking at Steve like he hung the moon, and he can't stop himself.
"Scoot over." The words are soft and Steve's voice is so low that Bucky can't think of anything else for a while. Then he remembers that Steve said something.
"What?"
"I said, scoot over, you jackass."
"Alright, alright." Bucky's voice still sounds vulnerable and raspy and that's what Steve repeats to himself as he nervously wraps his arms around Bucky's middle instead of lying down with his back to Bucky, like he usually does.
Bucky doesn't move and his voice sounds even more raspy when he talks again.
"What are you doing?"
"Shut up, I'm comforting you."
And Steve prays to god that Bucky won't laugh or push him away, because if Bucky rejected him now, Steve wouldn't be able to take it.
So when Bucky sniffles and Steve can feel Bucky press his face against his hair, he ignores the jolt it sends up his spine when Bucky presses him closer, because it's Bucky and it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.
Bucky doesn't cry again, but his breathing stutters all the time, and sometimes he'll tighten the arm he has around Steve's waist and Steve doesn't dare move in fear that Bucky will push him away.
At last, Steve begins to drowse away, surprised by how safe and warm he feels in Bucky's embrace, when Bucky whispers against the soft skin on his neck.
"I'm so sorry."
"For what?" Steve mumbles, already half-asleep, but Bucky doesn't answer.
Soon, Steve falls asleep anyway and Bucky lies awake, wondering what he sin he committed for God to be so cruel to make him fall in love with Steve.
And he promises himself all night, that tonight was just a small bump and that tomorrow, he'll be back to himself and when Steve asks how he's doing, he'll laugh and pretend like he doesn't know what he's talking about. He'll make Steve go on a walk with him, and he'll tell a story about his sisters, because Steve loves when he talks about his sisters. He'll buy some bread or milk they can't afford and lie when Steve asks about the money. He'll go out dancing and then convince the prettiest girl in the club to let him lure her into an alleyway where he'll forget all about Steve for a couple of minutes. He'll come home late with messy hair, smelling like booze and then Steve will know that Bucky is fine and that everything is back to normal. And after a couple of weeks, it'll be like it never happened.
What Bucky refuses to admit to himself as he makes all those promises, is that he isn't sure if he's going to be trying to convince Steve, or himself.
--
Steve wakes up first.
They've tangled their legs together under the night, and Bucky's hasn't let go of Steve's waist.
When Steve looks at Bucky's sleeping face, he can't help but notice how blissful and peaceful he looks, and how much younger than the night before, when the gaze of a thousand year old man had rested in his eyes. In the way he had clenched his jaw and kept furrowing his forehead, Bucky had seemed tired and desperate, so unlike the light-hearted boy Steve usually meets.
He doesn't mind desperate and broken Bucky. In fact, Steve misses him. Often these days Bucky puts up walls around Steve too, the walls that before had been for everyone except Steve. It hurts more than he likes to admit, and damn him if he doesn't take the opportunity to force the truth of Bucky when he finally has the chance, when the walls have come down just a little, and Steve can almost peek over the top.
Steve untangles his legs carefully, not wanting to wake the other boy. To his relief, Bucky sighs in his sleep and rolls over on his stomach.
He quietly gets dressed and leaves Bucky in their bedroom that still smells like tears and sleep.
--
When Bucky wakes up, the first thing he notices is that Steve is gone.
Then yesterday comes flooding back to him, and that feels like the least of his problems.
He sits up in the bed and scrubs a hand through his hair.
Fuck .
He gets up from the bed and gets dressed slowly, drags it out until he has no choice but to go out and face Steve.
As he enters the living room, the first thing he sees is Steve on the couch, a book open on his lap, but it seems to be forgotten as Steve’s staring out the window.
Bucky coughs and Steve looks up and when he moves, the book falls onto the floor with a loud bang. They both start lightly and stare at the book for a while before looking up at each other.
They’ve avoided it for so long, looked the other way, but as the sun slowly comes up and the two still sleepy and messy brooklyn boys stare at each other, and their heart starts beating harder, reality finally catches up with them and they know it’s time.
It’s long overdue, truly.
Bucky opens his mouth first.
“Steve, I--”
“Wait, I have something to say first,” Steve interrupts quickly. He begs Bucky with his eyes to let him speak, because he’s prepared a whole speech and it’s important that Bucky hears it, and Steve isn’t sure if he would be able to get it out if he lets Bucky talk first.
“Alright,” Bucky says slowly.
“Look, you don’t have to explain yesterday. Alright? Let’s forget that. I just… Bucky, I gotta know what’s going on with you. I need to know what’s wrong. And I know this has been going for pretty long, and I figured you’d tell me eventually, when you felt ready, but you... haven’t." Steve pauses and looks up at Bucky from under his lashes before continuing. "And I thought, alright, it’s fine, he doesn’t have to tell me everything. But it’s just, that now, I can’t pretend like I don’t see it. Whatever it is, it’s destroying you. And if I can, I wanna help. And if you still don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine too, I guess. But I know you. And I know that sometimes you don’t tell me things because you want to make life easier for me, and if you aren’t telling me this because you think it’s easier for me, then forget that. Let me help you for once.”
Steve takes a deep, shaking breath and then looks at Bucky, who isn’t looking at Steve anymore, instead staring down at his feet.
“I do wanna tell you.” Bucky’s voice is so low Steve almost can’t hear it.
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? Because I can take it.”
Bucky looks up again and the look on his face is so desperate that Steve finds himself furrowing his eyebrows.
“I don’t know-- I don’t know, Steve.”
“For me?"
Bucky sighs and closes his eyes.
Bucky is so fucking tired. He’s exhausted. It's so hard to care, he just can't anymore. And Steve is sitting all pretty and concerned on their couch, sleep still evident in his eyes and his hair still a mess, wanting Bucky to tell him, and it’s so fucking hard to resist and frankly, Bucky doesn’t want to anymore.
He’s so tired.
So he looks at Steve and his eyes and the soft skin on his neck and memorises the colour of his lips, and there's an empty hole in his chest that makes it hard to breathe.
Bucky looks away before looking back at Steve again, his blue eyes so soft and caring and with a sudden, burning singelmindely intensity, Bucky hates himself.
He opens his mouth, and it feels like stitches rips open between his lips, and he regrets it as soon as the words have tumbled out of his mouth.
“I love you.”
Bucky watches with a increasing panic as Steve doesn’t react like Bucky thought he would. He just smiles a little and continues looking worried.
“I know, I love you too,” Steve says and his voice sounds normal.
Cold realisation hits Bucky. Steve doesn’t get it.
He’s going to have say it again, maybe even explain it and Bucky didn't want this to be dragged out. He wanted to say "I love you" and he wanted Steve to say "get out, I never want to see you again" and he wanted to leave, and he wanted for it to happen in less than thirty seconds.
This, this is torture. Making it slow and dragged out is the cruelest thing Bucky can think of.
He wants to shatter in a million pieces like a window that hits the ground, fast. And sure, it would take him long to gather up all the pieces, but it would be a thousand times better than this dull knife that keeps carving patterns inside his chest, than the claws that are splitting his chest wide open.
“No, not like that. I love you.” The words burn like acid on his lips, his tongue. It hurts, it burns and he’s paralyzed.
And.
Then.
Bucky sees it in the way Steve’s eyes widen, in the way his whole face goes soft, that he understands.
“Oh,” he exhales.
Bucky is still standing in front of Steve, clenching and unclenching his fists, sweat breaking out in his hairline and he keeps swallowing, and Steve still doesn’t say anything, and then Steve seems to snap out of his daze, and he looks at Bucky who’s shaking.
The room is spinning.
“I--” Steve says.
“I need to go,” Bucky says suddenly and then he’s disappeared out of the room and Steve blinks and then stands up.
“Wait, Bu--” he begins and is met with the sound of their front door slamming shut.
Steve sits down again and runs his hands through his hair.
--
Bucky didn’t even put his shoes on, he only grabbed them by autopilot and he only has one arm in his jacket.
He stops only for a second to step into his shoes and manages to put on his jacket properly in the process and he almost falls down the stairs and his head is spinning and then he’s at the bottom plane and pushes up the door with more force than he needs to and he gulps down the cold air as if he has been underwater.
There’s not a lot of people outside, but those who are don’t bother even looking at him as he runs past them. He doesn’t know where he’s going, and the fog inside his head makes it impossible to think.
His heart is beating so hard, and he's shaking even though it feels like he's on fire, and the cold wind whips against his face until it hurts and his breathing echoes in his head.
He runs until he can't anymore, until his lungs are burning and he can’t feel his legs, until he has to stop and he stumbles into an alleyway and falls against the wall.
He gasps after air and throws up against the trash cans but he doesn’t cry he doesn’t cry he doesn’t cry.
His throat burns and he’s sitting on the ground and the pavement is wet and cold beneath him and he can’t remember when he sat and he looks up and there’s dark clouds and it’s probably going to rain and he doesn't cry doesn't cry doesn't cry.
He just shakes and shakes and his breathing is still too fast and he just sits there until he doesn't.
--
Bucky has been gone for hours now. It's dark outside.
Steve is kinda pissed.
First, as shock had ravaged through his body, he hadn’t moved an inch from the couch and every time he had closed his eyes, he had seen nothing but Bucky.
Bucky, happy and laughing, splayed out on the floor beside the couch, telling Steve something, his hands flying everywhere, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed and his hair tangled.
Bucky, sad and smiling, pointing to the night sky, telling Steve all about the stars, unaware that Steve wasn’t looking where Bucky was. Instead, his gaze rested upon Bucky, the only star Steve has ever cared about.
Bucky, with red rimmed eyes at his ma’s funeral, but not crying.
Bucky, with a clenched jaw and burning eyes, quietly cleaning up blood from Steve’s nose, not reacting when Steve winces. Then, afterwards, pretending like he doesn’t care. Smiling all stiff and wrong and says that it’s Steve’s life, he’s allowed to do whatever he wants with it.
Bucky, just before he stormed out the door, vulnerable and scared in a way Steve has never seen before.
Steve thought he knew Bucky inside out, thought he knew everything and it almost hurts that Bucky kept this from him, even though Steve understands why. Still, the best friend in him feels left out.
When Steve finally had gotten up from the couch on shaky legs, he had walked around the apartment in a haze, just thinking.
And he had thought and thought and thought.
He had taken out all of his sketchbooks, the only place where he doesn't lie to himself, and laid them out on the dinner table, and had just sat and turned the pages and looked for hours.
And his sketches were full of Bucky. His hands, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his jaw, his shoulders, his back.
Usually, Steve could lie.
He could lie and pretend and ignore.
But his art screamed at him, stared at him in the eye with the truth. And as the evidence piled up, Steve had to give up.
Steve hadn't known Bucky was in love with him.
But what if he had loved him back this entire time?
When Steve looks out the window, and sees that it’s dark out, he starts to worry, because Bucky didn’t tell him where he was going, and what if he gets hurt, and then anger replaces the worry.
Steve’s always the one to pick up the pieces of them, and Bucky just dropped this on him and then left and when he comes back, if he comes back, he’s probably going to try and apologise or pretend like it was a joke, but Steve will not pretend along with it.
He won't.
The decision makes his heart beat faster, but Steve just raises his chin in the empty apartment and thinks of his mom.
--
When Steve can finally hear the front door open, he’s almost fallen asleep, but he jumps up from the bed and walks into the dark hall, where he sees Bucky leaning against the wall, fumbling with his jacket.
Bucky hasn’t seen him yet, so Steve allows himself a minute to will his heart to stop beating so hard.
He swallows before opening his mouth.
"Where the fuck have you been?" he says, thankful that his voice comes out pissed instead of breathless.
Bucky turns around at the sound of Steve's voice, and when he grins, his teeth glint in the dark.
"Hi, Steve, hi--hi sweetheart." Bucky's voice is wobbly and a little hoarse, and he stumbles a little as he tries to take a step towards Steve, and he reeks of booze, Steve can smell it from where he stands.
Steve sighs and closes his eyes, suddenly feeling a thousand years old, his anger gone, tiredness taking its place.
"Are you drunk?" He already knows the answer, and he knows Bucky will lie, because he always does.
"Of course not,” Bucky huffs.
"Alright, let's get you into bed, come on." Steve takes a step forward and grabs onto Bucky’s arm a little harder than he needs to.
Bucky feels unsteady under his hand as they walk and Steve carefully steers him through the kitchen, trying not to bump into anything.
"Why don't you come with me?" Bucky says as they reach the bedroom. Steve looks at him, confused.
"What?” he asks and pushes Bucky down on his bed. He starts untying Bucky’s tie, when Bucky suddenly grabs onto Steve’s hands and doesn’t let go.
"Why don't you lay down in bed with me, huh, baby? I'll make you feel good, so good,” Bucky mumbles, his eyelids heavy. Steve stops dead in his tracks and just stares him.
It’s in the middle of the night and their room is dark and everything feels heavy and Steve wants to cry.
"Bucky, you're drunk, you don't know what you're saying." Steve retrieves his hands and finally gets Bucky’s tie off, so he doesn’t choke himself to death in his sleep.
"Come on, Stevie, babydoll, honey." Steve has to pause for a minute to will his head to stop spinning.
Bucky runs his hands through Steve's hair, and when his fingers touch Steve's scalp, it sends shivers down his spine.
"So sweet, you're so sweet."
Steve, despite himself, leans into Bucky's touch, and doesn't pull away when Bucky pulls him closer. When Steve feels Bucky's lips against his cheek, he sighs and closes his eyes, even though he knows it will break him a little, even though he knows it's not supposed to mean anything, even though Steve knows Bucky will blame this on the booze in the morning.
Steve allows himself a moment to mend himself a little before prying himself out of Bucky’s hands.
He puts a hand on Bucky’s chest and he can feel his heart beating under his fingers as he pushes Bucky down on the mattress.
“Come on, lay down.” Bucky obeys and then stretches out like a cat, his long limbs taking up all the space on the bed. Steve begins to untie his shoes and drags them off and puts them neatly side by side by Bucky’s bed.
He leaves Bucky on the bed to get him a glass of water, but when he comes back, he stops in the doorway and looks at Bucky, curled up, with disheveled hair and his hands under the side of his face, his eyes wide and shining in the faint moonlight.
“Will you leave me, Stevie?” Bucky’s voice sounds so young and he looks so young, and Bucky hasn’t called Steve Stevie since they were ten and Steve stands in the dark with a glass of water that he clutches desperately with both hands and suddenly he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because they’ve loved each other their entire lives, and the way they love each other now doesn’t change that.
“No,” Steve says and then he walks forward and puts the glass of water on Bucky’s nightstand. He sits down on his own bed and looks down at his hands, tries to see pass how they shake.
“I thought you-- I thought you would.”
“I know you did, Buck.” It hurts to say the words, and it surprises Steve, that it still hurts him how Bucky could ever even think that.
They fall silent. Steve knows Bucky hasn’t fallen asleep by how his breathing is still uneven and light.
“You remember when we were younger,” Bucky starts, “and your mom used to call me her kid, too?”
“Yeah.” Steve’s voice breaks. Bucky never talks about Sarah unless he’s drunk. Steve knows he misses her too. She was like a mother to Bucky, too, every time his own failed.
“You miss her?” Bucky asks, quiet.
“Yeah,” Steve answers. “You?”
“Yeah,” Bucky says, even quieter. "I'm sorry I never-- never talk about her."
Steve knows this isn't Bucky talking, because he would never say this if he was sober, and so Steve's answer doesn't matter. Now is not the time to tell Bucky how he really feels about that. He can’t be mad at his Buck when he’s vulnerable like this.
"It's alright," he lies. Bucky frowns, because even drunk, he knows just how Steve works.
“You’re lying.” Tears well up in Steve’s eyes. It was so long ago Bucky called him out on his bullshit, even like this.
“Go to sleep, Buck,” he says instead. Bucky doesn't say anything. Steve hears sheets rustling, and when he looks up from his hands, Bucky has turned his back to him.
Soon, light snores fill the air. Steve lies down in his bed, too, and just as his eyelids begins to drop, he hears Bucky whisper "I'm sorry", but just a second later, Steve is fast asleep.
By the morning, the small words are long forgotten.
--
Bucky wakes up with a headache and memories he would rather forget.
He sits up in his bed and hopes that Steve isn’t there and then feels bad about it a second later, and then it doesn’t matter, because Steve’s sitting on his bed with crossed legs.
He raises his eyebrows at Bucky.
“You look terrible,” Steve says. Bucky grimaces.
“Thanks,” he mutters and then scrubs his hand through his hair.
Steve lied. He doesn’t think Bucky looks bad. Sure, his is shirt wrinkled and the buttons of his shirt are buttoned in the wrong holes, and his hair is tangled and messy and there’s bags under his eyes and his eyes are red and Steve still thinks Bucky looks like an angel.
A really hung over angel.
Silence falls over the room like a blanket.
Steve breaks it first, words on his lips impatient.
“You know when we were younger," he starts, "you once said that when you die, you hoped you'd become star and I said, stupid, you'll never die, and I never said why. You wanna know why?" Steve smiles and swallows past the lump in his throat. Bucky smiles a little, confused. "Because you were already a star. And stars don’t die. Or they do, but I thought they didn’t, because you said so, and that was obviously a lie, but, anyways, that’s not the point.”
Bucky looks at Steve, waiting. Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to crawl up his throat and run away.
“Where is all of this coming from?” Bucky asks, still half-asleep and Steve knows this is maybe not the best time, and maybe it’ll mess up everything more, but he clenches his jaw and keeps going.
“You're my star, you idiot. And maybe if you hadn’t been so fucking stuck in your head and let me talk, I could’ve told you I love you too.”
Bucky doesn’t move. Just blinks, once, with huge eyes.
“You do?”
“Yeah."
Bucky looks down at his hands and then looks up at Steve and there’s something in his eyes that looks like he’s stopping himself from something, and in that moment, there’s nothing Steve wants more than for Bucky to just give in and do what he wants for once.
"I swear to god, Steve, if you're messing with me--" he says with a raspy voice that cuts right through Steve’s chest.
"I'm not."
"God, Steve," Bucky says, his voice heavy with unsaid words. He drags his hands over his face and when he looks at Steve again, there's tears in his eyes.
"This-- this-- you know this can't change anything, right?" Bucky says and ice replaces Steve’s blood.
"What are you talking about?"
"Steve. You know that this is wrong and sinful and--"
Steve wants to hit Bucky in the head. "Bucky, no. No, it's not, stop."
"It's against the law--"
"The law have been wrong before--"
"God says it wrong--"
"Are you sure?"
"What?" Bucky looks legitimately confused. Steve rushes to explain.
"Are you sure God thinks it's wrong?"
"It says so in the bible, Steve."
"There's many things in the bible I can't imagine God has said, and the bible isn't the same as God's words. There’s a lot of different ways--” Steve cuts himself off, but, still desperate, doesn't stop when Bucky stands up from his bed and grabs Steve's arms. He rips himself out of Bucky's grip and stands up too.
"I, for once, believe that God could never hate love. I believe that God wants us to be happy, Bucky, can't you believe that, too?" Steve's voice breaks.
Without a word, Bucky drags Steve into his arms and it's not until then that Steve realises his hands are shaking really bad, and then that he's shaking all over.
He grabs onto Bucky's shirt with both hands until the fabric is bunched up in his fingers and as he clings onto Bucky, he tries to catch his breath.
"It's okay, just breathe, Steve," Bucky murmurs right into Steve's ear, and Steve can feel Bucky's lips against his jaw.
Steve let's go off Bucky's shirt and pushes him away.
"It's not okay ," Steve exclaims. "Stop lying to me, I swear to God, I'll fucking leave."
"Steve, just--"
"If you tell me to just breathe one more time--" Steve spits out the words as if they were poison.
"Alright, alright."
“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that?” Steve’s eyes are burning. “You say you love me, but you hate yourself for doing it--”
“Steve--”
“--and I love you, but--”
“ Steve.”
Everything goes quiet for two seconds before Steve speaks again, small.
“I just don’t get it.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s wrong anyway, because the world has already decided. It’s outright dangerous to be like us. You heard what happened to Toby?”
“Yeah.”
“You know why we can’t. You just don’t wanna accept it.”
Steve deflates immediately, knowing it’s true.
“I could never forgive myself if something happened to you ‘cause I wanted to be selfish.”
Red flashes before Steve's eyes.
“Our lives are shit, Bucky! We’re don't have any money and lucky as hell to have roof over our heads and, still, you work your ass off and I lose every goddamn job I manage to get, and then there’s the war, and it’s not like we have something else to live for than each other! And if I can’t have you, I’m sorry, Buck, but what do I got? It’s probably selfish as hell, but all I want is you. What else is there in this shit world for me?" Steve pauses, and raises his chin. "Or for you?"
And Bucky's heart breaks, it shatters, and he knows he's doing the right thing, even though it's the last thing he wants, but Steve is making it so damn hard for him. His stubborn look cuts right through his chest, to his heart, where he's tried so damn hard to hide how desperate he is.
His determination that was weak from the beginning is failing him and what Steve says makes so much sense, and he wants to give in, he wants it so much his throat clenches right up and he just wants things to be easy for once.
Why are they never easy?
Steve is flushed and pissed and furrowing his brows, unaware of the change in the air.
"What I’m trying to say, Buck, is, if we don’t live, what the hell else will we do?”
Bucky exhales and then he thinks fuck it.
"Okay."
"What do you mean okay?"
“Okay, I fucking love you.”
Bucky can see it, how Steve is taken by surprise, how it all melts away in less than a second, and Bucky clenches and unclenches his hands, the floor moving under his feet and he just took the step off the cliff, but he didn’t fall.
He’s flying.
He's dizzy, he feels drunk, and free and he can't think straight.
“You don’t know how much. You have no idea," he mumbles.
And Steve, Steve just looks at him, soft and in the early light he says;
“I have an idea.”
Bucky laughs, breathless and raspy, because what did he expect?
And suddenly, it isn’t enough, and Steve is just standing there, all pretty and happy, and, afterwards, Bucky will say that he was growing bored of the conversation and wanted some action and Steve hits him in the arm.
But in the moment, all he knows is that he has to be close to Steve, or so God help him, he’ll die.
And so, he takes the one step separating them and caresses Steve’s face with his hands and he leans in and kisses him.
And Bucky’s entire being is stricken with one word; finally.
Steve’s lips are chapped and soft at the same time, and he makes a sound of surprise before clutching Bucky’s arm.
It almost hurts, it’s so sweet, and it’s familiar and new at the same time, and Steve sighs against his mouth and Bucky wants to absolutely ruin him.
It’s all he ever wanted.
He puts his hands on his waist, trying so hard to be gentle and he gets lost in the soft presses of their lips, in Steve’s warm skin. It's open and hot and Steve huffs when he really likes it, and it drives Bucky up the goddamn wall.
Somewhere, two planets collide.
--
That night, as they go to bed together, Bucky finally gets to know Steve as his lover.
He takes his sweet time taking Steve apart until Bucky knows nothing but Steve’s red, gasping mouth and the way Steve says his name. Until Bucky knows exactly the way Steve’s back arches underneath him, until he has memorised how Steve’s breath stutters in his ear before he has to bite back a moan. Until Bucky has nosed at the tender skin of the inside of his thighs so many times he can’t believe he’s never done it before, until Bucky can’t ever forget how Steve looked the first time.
It’s his new favourite thing in the word.
--
Afterwards, Bucky counts up all the reasons he loves Steve, and Steve laughs, secretly loving it.
“You’re such a sap," Steve says.
“Says you.”
Ease settles into Bucky, and he wonder if this was his destiny all along. If he was put on this earth to love Steve. It’s hard to believe anything else.
Steve socks him in the arm with bony fingers, and Bucky gasps, fake-offended. Lightning-fast, he climbs on top of Steve and pins his arms over his head. He leans back and grins.
“You wanna go, punk?” he says. Steve snorts, flushed and happy.
"You can't take me, you'll just make a fool of yourself."
Bucky laughs and raises his eyebrows.
"Really? You think so?"
"I know so." Mischief tinkles in Steve's eyes.
"That's the last fucking straw--" Bucky's fingers goes straight for Steve's neck, knowing there's where he's most ticklish.
Steve screeches and tries to roll away, and fails miserably.
Suddenly there's a banging on the wall.
Both boys immediately freeze as a muffled voice is heard.
"Shut the hell up!"
Steve makes a snorting sound and Bucky immediately shushes him, even though he too is having a hard time keeping it together.
"Be quiet!" Bucky shout whispers, grin wide on his face.
"You be quiet!" Steve hisses back.
They stay like that for a while, breathing into each other's faces, waiting for a knock on the door or maybe another bang on the wall to scold them some more.
It doesn't come.
Bucky rolls of off Steve and exhales. Steve rolls onto his side so he can look at Bucky.
It's quiet. There's muffled sounds from the streets, and the regular noise from their neighbours that they've grown accustomed to.
Still, it feels like they're all alone in the world, just the the two of them, but then again, hasn't it always been like that?
And then Bucky realises he's breaking all the promises he forgot he made and he realises that he doesn't care.
Because he hasn't begged for anything his entire life, but for Steve, he'll get on his knees.
Bucky rolls onto his side, too, and just looks at Steve the way he wasn't allowed before.
Then he reaches out his hand, caresses Steve's cheek and says;
"We're pretenders."
Steve doesn't look confused, doesn't say anything, just looks at Bucky with wide blue eyes.
"I know," he says. And then they don't say anything else for the rest of the night.
Instead, they let the moon shine into their room and paint the walls bright white, and maybe, just maybe, they know that one day, they would do anything to be in this exact moment again.