R O Y A L S

XXIII.

IT WAS days after, and the snowstorms on the northern land leading towards the sea has not cease to rage. Steve did not know what he wished for, the ice-cold blizzards to subside and clear a path or for the thunders and storm to prolong, for the sake of having a legitimate reason to stay. To see her every day, only for her to return to another man's arm at the end.

Amidst the cold day, Steve sat all alone on one of the many balconies, at the far end of the castle hallway, a stash of paper at hand as he drew. He paid attention at every detail he tried to get, every strand of hair, every crooks and and every lines of her feature, as if rehearsing for all the times he would spend without her within his reach.

Bucky approached with quiet steps, his hands resting in his pockets, "Hiding in an empty hallway like you always did."

"I'm not hiding," Steve said as he looked up to his friend.

"You're drawing," Bucky stated, "Like the old days."

"You make it sound like we're a hundred years old, it was only a couple years back, Buck," Steve replied with lightness in his tone.

"Yeah, with the wrinkled face and frowns you've been pulling these days, you'd be a hundred in no time," Bucky quipped as he sat at the spot across Steve.

Sighing, Steve knew what Bucky was hinting at and he really was not in the mood for Bucky, or anyone, for that matter, to be asking him what he's feeling. He feels like the unluckiest person in the whole damned universe, and he is exhausted to tell other people that.

His gaze flickered away from Bucky, away and onto the whiteness of the outside world of Russgard, "I just wanted to know how you're doing," Bucky said in that voice he'd always used since they were children.

Bucky's words hung in the air before Steve let out a puff of cloud against the cold, "It's like the entire unfortunate events that could possibly happen in the universe have been inflicted on me," he replied, his gaze still far away into the horizon, "It's terrible."

"But I couldn't be happier for you, Buck. You deserve it," he added as he returned his gaze towards his friend.

"I know I've always gotten the ladies," with a smug smile Bucky said, "But I've never meant to take away yours and it guilts me that I do," returning to the serious tight line of the lips then.

Although it was excruciating to admit, Steve managed to let out, although the pain was visible within his glossy eyes, and his face crunching at the seams, "That's alright."

"Is that her?" Bucky asked as he motioned towards the piece of paper in Steve's hands. Giving it one last look, Steve handed the paper to him.

"You can have it, it's best for me to forget," with a strained voice Steve said.

The two spent the moment in silence as Bucky studied the picture, studying the pained look in his friend's face. The way his bright blue eyes do not seem like the daylight sky or the way his lips knitted into a frown he can't seem to turn. His heart ached that he brought this upon Steve and albeit Steve insinuated that he would be alright, Bucky could not seem to fathom the lonely darkness Steve would spiral himself into. Disappointed at himself, for possibly being the universe's worst friend anyone could ever get, one who had no clue how to return the spark of life back into his very own friend, he knew he had to orchestrate a remedy for things to unfold the way it should be, the way that would put Steve back into his shoes and out the dark.

"She's beautiful," he stated once his mind was set on one goal, standing up to continue with the day.

"She is," Steve said quietly, "You'll keep her safe."