An Exquisite Kind of Pain
Falling in love is nice, isn’t it?
The question is so supremely insane it keeps Steve awake at 3 in the morning, his arm folded behind his head as he stares at the ceiling of his bedroom. Bucky shifts beside him and hugs the pillow a little tighter before burying his face in it.
“Stop thinkin ‘bout her,” he mutters, his words muffled by the pillow. “’M tryin ta sleep.”
“Can’t help it,” Steve replies, then turns his head toward his best friend. “You have a bed in your room, y’know?”
Eyes still closed, Bucky makes a loud –obviously fake- snoring sound, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. Steve rolls his eyes, knowing full well Bucky’s presence at his side is the result of one of his infamous nightmares.
They all have nightmares, they all wake up screaming and they all act like everything’s fine. Welcome to the world of the emotionally constipated!
Steve’s an extremely private person, even with Bucky. They both find comfort in each other’s presence, but they rarely talk about their problems.
Bucky knows Steve’s in love, and not just because he’s a highly trained assassin who can recognize the tell-tale signs of whatever emotion has been concealed, but because he’s Steve’s best friend. Bucky feels more like himself now, even though he has to juggle three different personalities.
It can be overwhelming at times, but that’s a story for another time.
“You gonna do something ‘bout it?” he questions.
“I thought you were sleepin,” Steve replies.
Bucky doesn’t comment further.
Steve’s pretty sure that being in love isn’t a problem. Aliens invading the city and robots taking over the world, now those are real problems.
He waits another hour before he goes to the gym. He crosses the large, empty room, his footsteps echoing as he makes his way to the bench. He leaves his towel and a bottle of water on the bench, his eyes locked on the sandbag a few feet away from him. Steve’s certain that the bag is taunting him.
He walks slowly to the sack while he wraps gauze around his hands. The process is completely mechanical: three times around the wrist, three times around the hand and then in between the fingers.
It soothes him a little. But not enough.
Lately he’s been daydreaming more than usual. Natasha often caught him smiling to himself, lost in his own world. At first she thought it was cute, but it soon turned to worry. She even gave him one of her famous head tilt.
Steve pummels the bag so hard that each strike vibrates back up into his body. Images flash through his mind and he does his best to ignore them. Each image is bathed in a flash of sunlight, making her glow like an angel.
The effect she has on him is unbelievable. She walks into a room and time stops. For a moment, his past is forgotten and there’s no anticipation of the future.
And he sees her so clearly right now, but it’s all in his head.
She’s smiling at him with a smile so bright that her lips retreat back into her gums. PUNCH! He hugs her close to his chest and presses a kiss to her forehead. PUNCH! There’s a life growing inside her, a life that he helped create. PUNCH!
And suddenly a loud boom resonates throughout the silent room as Steve hits the bag so hard that it breaks open and goes flying against the wall. He stays immobile, his fists clenched tightly, and sighs.
That’s not me…
He’s painted this lovely picture in his head, but all this domesticity feels so… foreign. He’s a super soldier, an Avenger, and she’s a spy, an Avenger, too, now. It’s ridiculous to think they can have what normal people have.
That makes Steve snort. He grabs another sandbag and suspends it on the hook nailed into the ceiling. He punches it until his knuckles are raw. They’ll heel fast, unlike his heart.
Steve’s not afraid of rejection, he knows she loves him, too. They flirt, they joke around, they laugh and Steve smiles so big that his cheeks hurt and turn red.
No, he’s not afraid of rejection. He’s afraid she won’t be enough.
He put her on a pedestal so high that she’s somewhere in the sky with Peggy and his mom. It’s not fair and he feels terrible. She’s human, she has flaws, but in his mind… she’s perfect.
He knows she will never be able to love him like he loves her.
The life he’s created in his head is toxic, he knows that, but he needs it.
Maybe he doesn’t know her at all.
It’s just after eight when he walks into the kitchen and he stops abruptly when he sees her. She’s sitting at the kitchen island, her index finger hovering over her tablet. She doesn’t notice him –or maybe she does, but she says nothing.
Squaring his shoulders, he makes his way over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, drinking half of it in two long gulps. She briefly looks up from her tablet to greet him.
“Hey, Steve,” she says quietly, the corners of her lips lifting in a quick smile.
He gives her a small smile before he tips his head back and finishes his drink. His jaw looks so sharp from this angle. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering his face, though his blond hair is perfectly tousled. She lets her eyes linger on him for a second, but Steve can tell he’s already lost her. She’s been distant these past couple of days and he knows why. She’s trying to move on.
“Right,” she says after a while. She shuts off her tablet and pushes it away from her before she hops off the bar stool. “Catch you later.”
There’s no bitterness in her voice and that’s the worst part. In that moment, he knows she has given up on him, on a possible future with him.
He’s waited too long. Again.
And he asks himself…
Falling in love is nice, isn’t it?