Just the typical sad marvel thing /Peter

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Steve's pov:
I see Tony passing me in the hallway, probably going to Peter's room. I decide I'll go and try to talk to him after. I know he won't speak to me but I hope one day he'll forgive me... us and he'll talk to me eventually if I keep trying. I'm going towards Bucky's room. I haven't seen him today and it's past lunch already. I know why. By this point I expect him passed out when I enter his room. He does this daily. I know he blames himself and he's mad at himself but this is not the answer. I just want to help him but it's pretty hard if he's always unconscious or sleeping. But I still make sure to check on him every day twice. This is my first time today. As expected I find him on his bathroom floor, laying on the ground. I lift him up and put him on his bed. I collect his pills and put the bottles back in his bathroom cupboard. I don't even try to wake him up. I know he won't. I stay there for a while looking around in his room. I just want to be with him even though he doesn't even know what's happening around him. I remember wanting to check on Peter too. So I closed his door and went to Peter's room.

Bucky's pov:
I wake up in my own bed, feeling like shit. It's like every day. My head hurts like hell and I'm lightheaded. I don't even remember getting into my bed. I look around. It's past noon, which means that I was out for a long period. I try to stand up but everything starts to spin and then turns black so I have to sit back down, on my bed. When I can see normally, I attempt to stand up again, but this time slower. I go to my bathroom to see what's in there because my last memory before passing out is being there. I don't find anything unusual or a mess like I usually do so I know someone was in here. That's why I don't remember getting into my bed because I didn't. Someone put me there, probably Steve as always. Now that I'm in here, I wash my face. As I'm wiping my face with a towel I look into the mirror. "I look like shit," I say out loud. Dark circles under my puffy eyes from sleepless nights and nightmares, and my skin is pale, probably from not eating just whenever I happen to wake up. Now that I thought about this, I'm kinda hungry so I should go and eat something. I pull myself together a little so the others wouldn't see me like this. But probably they know I'm a total mess anyway.

I find hotdogs and fries in the kitchen. I take a bunch on a plate and prepare to go up to my room with it. That's when I stumble across Nat. "Hey, Bucky," she speaks softly. I know what she's doing. She's being purposely kind to me because she sees how bad I am. "Hi," I stop to respond but after a few seconds, I continue walking. "Are you okay?" I hear from behind me. I stop again and turn around with a slight smile saying, "Yeah, you know, like always." She keeps looking at me but when I turn back and start walking, I hear her sighing. I start to demolish the food, as soon as I get up, like I am starved. I finish it in a matter of seconds. But right after, I start  feeling nauseous. I ate way too fast and way too much at once. I fought the feeling for a while but eventually, I had to go to the bathroom and barf it back up. Good. Now this was a waste of food too. Good job, really. All you did today was waste some food. I grunt as I get up to rinse my mouth out with water. These fucking thoughts again. The amount of hate I have for these, really. Now that it started I can't stop it. Everything else the pills suppressed is in my head. All about Peter and how it's all my fault. You made him go there in the first place. You said the meanest things to him. You knew perfectly that if you said that to him, he'd be hurt. You hurt him! He jumped because of you. It's your fault. He's mad at you because of this. He hates you. You should've jumped and died instead. You deserve that. Why did I even survive that attempt? I start rubbing my eyes. Why? I just woke up. It couldn't wait a minute. Just to let me have a little peace. My eyes start to water. Not this again, I don't want to cry. Just when I'm about to be like 'fuck this, I'm not doing this again,' I hear a knock on my door. Everything is happening at the same time. I just wanted some peace.

"Please, don't come in Steve," I say. "It's not Steve," I hear Tony's voice. "Then Tony," I add. "I want to talk to you. Let me in, please," he says. I sigh and rub my eyes, hoping the tears will disappear. I open the door and invite him inside. "What's wrong?" he asks immediately. "Nothing," I answer. "Bucky, your eyes are glossy and red." I didn't hide it well enough, did I? I need to make up something. I just need him to leave and let me sleep again because my thoughts are getting worse every second. "Oh nah, it's just. Something went into my eye and I was trying to get it." That is the stupidest, most see-through answer I could ever come up with. Nice. Tony doesn't even say anything. He sits on my bed and says, "I haven't seen you all week. You've been taking those pills way too much." I don't say anything, I just stand there, my hands nervously fidgeting. "Are you thinking about it again? Buck?" I sigh and just look at him. "Don't take them. Let me help you. Let's distract you with something," he says. "Why? Cause tell the damn truth to me, Tony. You have urges too. I know you do... Or if you're that perfect, then show me your arm!" I snap at him. He's looking down at the ground. He can't even look at me so I know I guessed right where he has them. "Come on then?!" I say again. "Bucky, it's not necessary. You're more important anyway but there's nothing there," he says. "If nothing's there then why don't you wanna show me? huh?" I stick to the topic. I grab his arm and see him flinch. That's when I realize what I'm actually doing. I'm being aggressive and I'm on a topic that is very sensitive to Tony. I'm doing the same thing, that I did with Peter. My face turns sad and I apologise after this. "I'm sorry, Tony. I'm so sorry. I- I don't know what happened, I'm sorry. I just-" "It's okay, you're right. I do have urges and scars and burns," he says. After a couple of seconds, he pulls his left sleeve up with his trembling hands. My eyes widen as I see what he made. Revealing hundreds of burns and purple wide scaring on his arm. It's a lot. "Shit, Tony. This is really bad." "I know," he says. It will definitely leave scars when they heal.