lost boy

Steve wakes up to Sarah gently nudging his shoulder. He blinks a couple of times, clearing his throat. His head still hurts, but he does feel better overall. He’s been released from the hospital yesterday, instructed to spend the next week in bed, without overworking himself. Steve still feels like shit, but at least his face is no longer bruised and his dislocated shoulder doesn’t hurt as bad to need a sling. His ribs are better too, only ugly bruises left now.

Steve's head does hurt, though, and he squints at the sunlight overflowing his room.

“I’m leaving for work,” Sarah says loudly, signing as well as he doesn’t have his hearing aid on. “Sam promised to visit soon,” she continues, putting her hand to his forehead. She frowns and looks over him with worry in her eyes.

They both decided that it’s best she come back to work as being at home won’t change anything about Steve’s recovery. Sure, Sarah is a nurse, but he doesn’t need constant supervision anymore and, as much as they love each other, they’d drive themselves crazy being together 24 hours a day, seven days in a week. His Ma was nervous about it at first, but Dr Banner convinced her, saying Steve still needs to rest and lay in bed. There’s not much she can do, apart from making sure he takes his meds and doesn’t move too much to speed the recovery. Besides, it’s Friday and she’s already said she’ll stay at home over the weekend, making only a quick trip to the shelter and attending Sunday’s mass.

Steve nods, knowing his voice probably sounds like gravel, and sits up, reaching for his hearing aid and glasses.

“I left you some waffles on the kitchen island,” she adjusts his pillows and he smiles at her thankfully. “Oh, and when Sam comes, there are cookies in the oven.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Steve says, reaching for her hand and squeezing. She reciprocates the gesture and smiles, though Steve can still see hesitation in her eyes. “I’ll be fine, I promise,” the corners of his lips lift as he nods his head at her. Sarah gives him a look, but turns around, sighing.

He can hear her walking around in the hallway, then the doors open and close, and he’s left alone. Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and leans his head back. He has to get up soon to take his meds and eat, then he’ll probably go back to bed and watch Netflix, waiting for Sam to come. He doesn’t want to be alone and his friends, sensing it, have been coming to visit him all the time in the hospital. He was by himself only when he was sleeping, and even then he could swear Sarah was checking up on him. She basically spent the entire week in the hospital, either working or sitting in his room, keeping him company. Everyone’s trying to keep his mind off of the only person he’s heard nothing but radio silence from, like they all know how much it hurts him.

Steve hasn’t heard from Bucky since the man left the hospital on Monday. Not a single text, no phone call, nothing. Sure, he tried reaching out to him but to no avail. Steve knows damn well he drove Bucky away with this stupid fight and he’s mad at himself over how dumb it was. He’s lucky it wasn’t snowing that night or he’d have frozen to death. What makes him feel even worse, is what Natasha’d told him one time when she came to visit.

It was a couple days after he woke up and he was still pretty banged up. She sat down on a chair next to his bed, her face unreadable, and flickered her eyes over his sheet-covered body. She sighed, leaning on her arms, and looked down.

“He’s in Indiana,” she shook her head, frowning at herself and Steve gulped, remembering the last time Bucky went there. “He uhh… He goes there every time he has something big he has to process. Usually he just takes it out at the gym, but sometimes… Sometimes he needs a break.”

She looked up at him, raising her eyebrow slightly. Steve nodded, assuring her he was listening, but stayed silent.

“I know he told you about Becca and his last trip to Indiana,” Steve swallowed, nervous and not sure where this was going. Natasha paid him no mind though, continuing. “I guess you being beaten by a drunk guy triggered some memories.”

She paused, looking him straight in the eye and then Steve understood why Bucky left so upset. Of course the brunette was mad at him, he literally asked for that fight. Jesus, he wasn’t even think about how Bucky must’ve felt, the memories of losing his baby sister because of some drunk idiot. “Fuck…” Steve breathed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He really is an idiot.

“Look, Steve, it’s not your fault,” Natasha said calmly, sitting back. “Just give him time and some space. He’ll come around he just needs to… deal with everything,” she stood up and came closer to his bed, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

Steve felt overwhelmed with emotions, with his sudden realization of affection for Bucky and the fact he can’t be there for him, can’t do anything. He licked his lips nervously and looked at her with a pained expression on his face. “Natasha, I—“

“I know,” she smiled a sad smile, nodding.

“You do?” Steve frowned, but still felt like a weight had been raised from his shoulders. Natasha was the first person he admitted his feelings to and he was relieved she didn’t tell him he's ruined it all.

“I see how you look at him. Besides, he showed us the picture of your painting.”

“Does he—?”

“No,” she chuckled. “No, he doesn’t. And it’s not my place to tell him.”

“Thank you,” Steve choked out, his voice breaking.

“Just. Wait for him to come to you,” she squeezed his arm again and left the room, closing the doors gently behind herself.

Steve sighs, shaking his head at the memory, and gets out of bed, wincing at the pain. He’s still aching everywhere and has troubles lifting his left arm above his head. Grinding his teeth, he shuffles to the kitchen and downs a glass of water. He pops a couple of pills in his mouth and takes a couple more sips. Sarah left him waffles sprinkled in cinnamon with apples on the side and he devours them, sighing happily once he’s done. Steve takes the rest of his meds, after putting the dishes into the sink to wash later, and paddles back to his room, crawling into bed and taking his laptop with him. He checks his phone, but there’s still nothing from Bucky. He tries to ignore the pang in his chest, as he reads the messages from Peggy, Sharon and Sam. He texts them back, saying he still feels like shit and apologizing for what feels like a hundred time, then reaches for his laptop. He wants to put on Netflix and let his mind go blank, but his finger stops over the Spotify app. Biting his lip, Steve opens the app and searches for the song that’s been on his mind for the last week. He finds it quickly and presses the play button, turning it up a bit. A shiver goes down Steve’s spine as the first accords start and he closes his eyes to get lost in the memory. Bucky, making his way into the crowd, his hips swaying to the rhythm. His head thrown back, his lips moving, singing along.

No matter what you say or what you do,

Bucky, stepping closer to Steve and pointing his fingers at him.

When I’m alone I’d rather be with you,

Bucky, swirling around, grinning and licking his lip, leaving it red and shiny.

Fuck this other n****s,

Bucky, grabbing Steve by his suspenders and pulling him in, leaning down to sing straight to his good ear, causing the hair on Steve’s neck to stand up.

I’ll be right by your side, till 3005, hol’ up!

Bucky, laughing and winking, throwing his head back and losing himself in the beat.

Steve swallows down hard as he remembers stumbling over his own feet and falling straight into Bucky, the brunette catching him and grinning. Steve’s heart hurts as the memory of Bucky’s hands on his hips, guiding him through the song hits. The blonde sinks further into pillows and clenches his jaw as his eyes start to itch. He closes his laptop, turning off the music, and breathes heavily. Steve takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, laying on his side and drawing his knees up. He stays like that for a while, tuning everything off and focusing on the view outside his window. It’s nothing special, just another block of flats, but the snow is falling and the sunshine hits it at the right angle. Steve wishes he could commit it onto paper, the sharp sunlight, reflecting on the pile of snow on his window still.

Steve’s brought out of his head when the buzzer goes off. He jumps slightly at the sound and blinks. The blonde stands up and goes to let Sam in, putting his glasses on the way. Waiting for the man to come up the stairs, Steve get his comfy blanket from his room and throws it over the couch. He runs a hand through his hair and goes to the front doors just when Sam knocks.

“Hey, man!” Sam grins, stepping inside and closing the doors behind him. “How you’re feeling?”

Steve shrugs, while Sam takes off his jacket and unlaces his boots. “Want somethin’ to drink?”

“Steve, come on, I know my way around here,” the man jokes as he throws Steve an unimpressed look. He gives the blonde a quick hug and goes to the kitchen, putting the kettle on. Sam rummages through the cupboard until he grabs a box he was looking for. “There it is!” He smiles triumphantly as he pulls out the box with green tea. He puts a bag in a cup, taking out rooibos for Steve, and waits for the water to boil. The blonde gets the cookies out in the meantime and places them on a plate. Once Sam pours the water into the cups, they make their way to the living room and sit on the couch, placing the cookies and drinks on the coffee table.

Steve sits cross-legged and throws the blanket over himself, his back resting against the couch. “How’s Riley?”

“He’s working on some project, that man never rests lemme tell ya,” Sam chuckles, a soft smile on his face. “He’s amazin’, Steve, for real. Best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“Happy to hear that,” Steve smiles as well, genuinely happy for his friend. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

“Hell yeah! Goin’ ice skating. Told him it’s not really my style, but hell if I can say ‘no’ to him,” Sam explains, seeing Steve’s surprised expression. Steve laughs, the absolutely smitten look on his friend’s face being something he hasn’t seen in a while.

“You really like him, don’t you?” The blonde says, even though the answer is pretty obvious.

“He gets me, wants the same in life. It’s been only what, like two months, but I can already tell it’s gonna last. Plus, have you seen him? It’s like winnin’ the lottery,” Sam smiles a soft smile, his eyes bright with joy. “Also, sex is great. And I mean, great,” he winks and Steve laughs, shaking his head.

“Please keep the details,” Steve looks at his friend, unimpressed.

“Oh, I’ll keep the details alright,” Sam grins, a dreamy look on his face.

Steve snorts, throwing his head back. “Christ,” he breathes, running a hand down his face.

“Anyways, enough about me and my amazing sex-filled relationship. What’s up with you?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Just wish I could actually enjoy the break,” Steve sighs, reaching for his cup.

“You would if you hadn’t been and idiot,” the man states matter-of-factly, giving Steve a look.

“Jeez, thanks,” the blonde rolls his eyes, bringing the cup to his lips and hissing, as he burns this tongue yet again.

“I’m just being honest,” Sam shrugs, reaching for a cookie. He takes a bite and moans, closing his eyes. “Ohmygod,” he mumbles, licking his lips.

“You need a room to yourself?” Steve jokes, arching his eyebrow.

“Nah, I’ll take this baby home with me later,” Sam winks.

Steve groans. “Why are we friends again?”

“Because I’m awesome and you love me.”

“Sure,” the blonde shrugs, which gets him a kick on his leg. “Hey!”

“I thought you were ‘fine’?” Sam says, his voice innocent.

“Shut up,” Steve says under his breath, looking down.

Sam laughs, covering his mouth with his hands. He shakes his head and finishes the cookie, then sobers up and looks at Steve with a serious expression on his face. “Seriously though, Steve, what’s up?”

The blonde knows what Sam’s talking about, but he decides to play dumb, as he doesn’t really want to go there just yet. “You literally came to hospital every day Sam, there’s not much that could change since yesterday.”

“You know what I’m askin’.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Steve—”

“Sam.”

They look each other dead in the eyes for a couple minutes, none of them breaking. Then, Steve gives in and sighs, looking down. “Fine. There’s nothin’. Not a single word, Sam, it’s been almost a week and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“He’s still in Indiana?” Sam asks, reaching for his cup. Steve’s told his friends Bucky went away when they came to visit, he couldn’t keep it to himself. He just didn’t say why Bucky reacted the way he did and why it bothers him so much. Though, if he’s to be honest, he knows they probably have their suspicions. If Natasha was able to notice his feelings, his friends must have too.

“I think so. I dunno, Natasha didn’t say anything about him since then and I didn’t ask,” Steve starts fiddling with the hem of his blanket, biting on his lip.

“Why?”

“Because. What would I even say? ‘Hey Nat, is Bucky back yet?’”

“It’s a start.”

“It’s pathetic,” Steve crosses his arms defensively and leans his head back. “Look, Sam, I know you mean well but it’s really not that simple—“

“Then make it simple, Steve. Don’t overthink it for once,” the man reaches out and squeezes Steve’s knee reassuringly.

“I can’t,” Steve almost whines, closing his eyes. Sam nudges his shoulder and Steve sighs, continuing. “It’s really not my place to tell. Just. Trust me.”

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you but you obviously care about him—“

“Love him,” Steve breathes so quietly he barely hears it himself.

“What?” Sam asks, his eyebrows raised, an intrigued look on his face.

“I’m in love with him,” Steve repeats quietly, his heart beating fast in his chest. It’s the first time he’s actually said it out loud and he feels dizzy but happy at the same time. Keeping his feelings inside has been eating him alive and he needs to be able to talk about it with someone, even if that’s not Bucky. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever say those words to the brunette. For now, he’s glad he can confide in Sam, the burden of his feelings being too heavy to carry alone.

“Damn, Steve,” the man looks at him, blinking, then a small smile appears on his face.

“You knew,” Steve states, not even surprised.

“We all know. Just waitin’ for you to come around. It’s good you finally did,” Sam nudges his shoulder again.

“That obvious, huh?” Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“Man, the way you look at him? Everyone sees it. Well, except for Bucky, though he looks exactly the same.”

“What?!” Steve sits upright, his heart rate picking up again.

“You’re both so blind it’s painful to watch,” Sam takes a sip of his drink and grabs another cookie.

“Sam. How—how does he look at me?” The blonde’s voice trembles.

“Like you hung the goddamn moon,” the man chuckles, taking a bite and closing his eyes. “Sarah Rogers you are a saint!” He mumbles around the mouthful.

“Okay, no. No, he doesn’t. Sam, there’s literally no way he’d be interested in someone like me—“

“Oh, cut the shit, Rogers. You’ve been friends for a couple of months now so he obviously likes spending time with you.”

“But it doesn’t mean—“

“Yes it does, you’re just too blind to see it,” Sam gives him his ‘I know what I’m saying’ look and raises his eyebrows to make his point even clearer. “Just trust me when I say you’re both idiots and the sooner y’all talk the better.”

Steve wants to argue some more but Sam ends the discussion standing up and taking his empty cup and the plate to the kitchen. He comes back and flops down on the couch, turning the TV on and switching back and forth between the channels. He finally finds what he likes and leans back, focusing on the show, leaving Steve to his thoughts.

*

Steve’s tapping his pencil against his lower lip when the sound of his phone brings him out of his head. He reaches out and answers it, without looking at the caller ID first.

“‘lo?” Steve mumbles, putting his sketchbook down on his bed and straightening his legs.

“Cap! You home?”

Steve frowns, not recognizing the voice at first, and pulls his phone away from his ear to check the caller. “Clint?”

“Yeah?”

Steve blinks. He hasn’t talked to the guy since he was released from the hospital four days ago. They exchanged a couple of texts, Clint wanting to know how Steve’s feeling, but that’s it. Steve shrugs, even though the man can’t see him and shakes his head. “What’s up?”

“You home?” Clint repeats, and Steve can hear his quiet chuckle.

“I’m—yeah. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. Bye!”

The call ends just like that and Steve is left blinking at his phone, his eyebrows furrowed. He has no idea what that was about, but he knows Clint well enough now not to be surprised. Instead, Steve throws his hands up and stretches out, popping his spine. He falls back on the pillows on his bed and rubs his eyes. It’s Monday, the last week of winter break, and he finally feels well enough to actually do something. His Ma’s at work, and Steve has a couple hours just to himself.

Steve spent the weekend with Sarah, both of them staying at home and catching up, baking cookies and fancy dinners. Sam and Sharon visited too, even stayed up till well into the night on Saturday. After Steve admitted his feelings for Bucky to Sharon, they all agreed to not bring the subject up again that night. They watched movies and drank ginger ale, non-alcoholic for Steve, talking about everything and nothing. Even Natasha came for a while, she and Sharon being closer every day. Steve could tell how happy Sharon was, and is glad things are finally working out for her. The only person Steve still hasn’t heard a word from is Bucky, but he came to terms with the silence between them. Steve knows he fucked up bad, and knows why Bucky stormed off the way he did. After his conversation with Sam, and then Sharon and Peggy on facetime, he feels better; hopeful, even. Natasha told him to give Bucky some time, and that’s exactly what Steve’s doing. Sure, it sucks. It kills him to not know how the brunet’s doing and when he’s coming back. But, Steve knows he can’t rush it, for if he did, it would only make things worse.

Steve rolls onto his stomach and presses his head to his pillow, taking off his glasses. He’s been drawing since he woke up and now his wrist is killing him. He’s made a simple sketch of Sarah, and one of Sam and Riley from their night out, both of them sitting in the booth, arms thrown around one another. He’s actually happy with how this one turned out and he plans to give it to Sam next time the man comes. The blonde sighs and closes his eyes, twisting his wrist to relieve the pain.

The next thing Steve knows is his phone ringing loudly somewhere close to him. He rubs his eyes, swearing inwardly for taking a nap, and frantically looks around his bed to locate his phone.

“‘S Steve,” he rasps, then clears his throat.

“Open the doors,” the person says, then disconnects the call.

Steve frowns. He hasn’t checked the caller ID yet again, and he couldn’t recognize the voice as his mind is still half asleep. He realizes someone’s knocking, so he throws his phone back on his bed, takes his glasses and goes to open. Steve cleans his glasses with the hem of his white, oversized tee he sleeps in and puts them on, then runs a hand through his hair, knowing it probably won’t help the disheveled mess on his head. He unlocks the doors and opens them, then freezes, blinking at the man in front of him.

“Hiya, Stevie,” Bucky’s leaning against the doorway, his hair loose and partly hidden under the hood of his jacket. It’s unzipped and reveals a grey hoodie underneath, paired with a pair of black jeans and winter boots. Bucky looks a bit pale, only his cheeks flushed from the cold, with bags under his eyes. His gaze lacks the usual sparkle, his eyes are dimmed and bloodshot. His voice sounds lower than usual and a shiver runs down Steve’s spine just at the sound of it. “Can I come in?” Bucky arches one eyebrow, biting his lower lip, and Steve realizes it’s an honest question. Bucky would actually go if Steve told him no.

That jolts Steve out of his frozen state and he quickly steps aside, nodding his head for Bucky to get inside. The brunette gives him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and steps inside, taking the hood of his jacket off and shrugging it off. He toes off his boots and looks at Steve expectantly, waiting for him to make a move.

“Right,” Steve mumbles, then goes further into the small apartment. “You want somethin’? Coffee?” He asks, going straight to the kitchen.

“Yeah, thanks,” Bucky follows him and sits on one of the stools, facing Steve’s back as the blonde puts on the coffee pot and a kettle for tea—Steve figures his heart rate is high enough as it is.

Once both cups are steaming, Steve places them on the kitchen island and sits opposite Bucky. The guy is looking down, licking his lips nervously, his eyebrows knitted together. Steve pushes the cup towards the brunet, which gets him a small smile from Bucky, one that doesn't even reach the man’s eyes.

“So…” Steve starts, then promptly shuts up. He has no idea what he was going to say; it’s not like he can just admit his feeling for Bucky, and he still isn’t sure if he wants to. Steve runs a hand through his hair and swallows down hard. He knows what he should say, but he can’t find the right words.

“Bucky…” Steve starts again, and this time the brunette looks up, even though it's just for a quick second. Steve bites the inside of his cheek, fiddling with the hem of his tee. “I’m sorry,” he lets out a breath and wills his heart to slow down. “I’m sorry I disappeared on you guys and got into that stupid fight. I shouldn’t have done that, I know, I’m sorry, I—” he closes his eyes and fists his hands. The memories are flooding Steve’s head now and he feels even more like a dick for what he’s done. “Look, I know why you were, or, I dunno, maybe you still are mad at me and I know it was stupid and reckless and I know my promise can’t mean to you much—”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, looking up for what feels like the first time. Steve realizes he started rambling and shuts his mouth, sucking in his lower lip and looking at Bucky. The man’s eyes seem even more piercing than usual, the icy blue dim and almost silver. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he says quietly, looking down again.

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, what?”

“I shouldn’t have left you just like that, we’re friends and—”

“Yeah, Buck, we’re friends,” it’s Steve turn to interrupt, as he emphasizes the last word, wiping his sweaty palms on his black sweats. “I should know better than to pick up fights with drunk people, especially when I’m on my own. What are you even sorry for? I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been for you—”

“Steve,” Bucky straightens up and Steve shuts up again. “Just. Lemme finish, alright?” He lifts one eyebrow questioningly and Steve nods. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came at that guy. Sorry none of us were, but mostly I’m sorry I let you do that on your own. And… and I’m sorry I stormed off like that. We’re friends, I should’ve been there for you. I just… With everything that happened, Becca and my dad’s addiction, I just couldn’t—” he takes a deep breath, looking down again, and fists his right hand in his hair. “I couldn’t handle the thought I was so close to losing you too,” Bucky whispers, his voice barely audible and Steve’s heart stops.

“Buck…” Steve breathes, his hand reaching out. Bucky leans back, however, and chews his lower lip.

“Lemme say that,” the brunette looks up, his eyes pleading, and Steve takes his hand back, resting his palms on his lap. “My dad… He’s an alcoholic. He’s sober now, but after Becca… He almost drunk himself to death. We left Poland partly because of that, we all needed a fresh start. I—I lost my sister, I almost lost my dad, I could’ve lost you. And I… I like you, Steve. You’re honest to God my best friend and…” Bucky shakes his head and rests his arms on the kitchen island, leaning on them.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Buck,” Steve lifts the corner of his mouth, his heart breaking for Bucky. He can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for him, to lose his sister because of some drunk idiot, then almost lose his dad to alcohol too. Steve clenches his fists, restraining himself from reaching out, but when Bucky turns his palm up, he cannot hold himself any longer and squeezes the brunet’s hand. Bucky looks up at that and offers him a genuine smile; sad, but it’s still there.

Steve has something on the tip of his tongue, three words that demand to be said, but he clenches his teeth and focuses on being there for Bucky. He knows his feelings won’t change, and there’ll always be time to tell Bucky how he really feels about him. For now, Steve’s more than happy to be his friend and be there whenever Bucky needs him.