the undefining of steve rogers (stucky)

eight

the next hallucination feels much more realistic. steve is sitting up this time, leaning against one arm of the couch. some disney movie plays on the tv (too big for steve to understand). there's a girl dancing in a room by herself, the remnants of a dream singing next to her. steve's eyes are trained on the movie, but his thoughts aren't in focus.

"we used to love disney," steve said, his voice hoarse. he hasn't spoken in three days. he knows that no one is listening. he doesn't care. if he doesn't look to his right, he can pretend bucky is there. "we snuck into snow white three times, remember? we got kicked out because you were singing the dwarf song too loudly."

steve laughed to himself, but the sound is hollow. there are shadows under his eyes that stick out against his pale skin, dark and purple. he clutched the blanket around him tighter. "i wish i could see you again. they've made a lot of disney movies since the war." he looks more like a remnant of a person than he looks like steve rogers. he doesn't care. "i liked lilo and stitch."

"i haven't seen that one."

steve smiled. "come closer. i want to see you again."

there's a shuffle of movement from the corner, by the window that he always keeps open. he feels a bit like wendy darling in peter pan. always waiting for someone to come through the window. natasha made him watch that one. he didn't like it.

a shadow crossed in front of the tv, and knelt in front of steve. his hair was down to his shoulders, and steve longed to run his fingers through it.

"hey, bucky," steve said quietly. this isn't the bucky barnes of the 40's, this is the one he met on the helicarrier. the one he - he - he pushed -

"your hands are shaking," bucky murmured. "do you want me to leave?"

"no," steve choked out. "no, please. please stay." this couldn't be a dream, it couldn't be heaven. it felt so real. he could hear bucky's breathing, see his eyes scatter around the room, looking for danger. they're blue. the kind of striking blue eyes that stop hearts.

"i'll stay."

steve reached out, his fingers wobbling, and bucky took his hand. he's apprehensive, unsure, but he holds steve quietly, traces the lines in his palm. everything in steve is collapsing, like a shooting star through his brain, too hot and fiery for his body, melting every piece of him. "i'm sorry," he choked out.

"hey," bucky said, soft and gentle, as if he wasn't the one who was tortured for seventy years. "it's not your fault."

"i killed you. i killed you and i'm sorry, i killed you, i killed - i killed you, bucky, bucky, i – "

bucky made a shh kind of noise, putting steve's hand between both of his. "i'm right here, aren't i?" steve was choking on bucky's words, letting them brand themselves into his skin. "you didn't kill me, you - you broke my programming. you made me someone new again. someone who would never, ever hurt you."

"i never wanted to hurt you," steve gasped out.

"i know. i know."

steve slid to the ground, landing hard on his knees in front of bucky. bucky flinched, and then settled again. "i'm sorry."

"it's okay, stevie. i'm - i'm getting better. i'm okay."

"i'm not," steve whispered, and his voice broke. "god," he muttered, looking up at the ceiling, half expecting someone to be there. "i'm going fucking crazy."

bucky frowned. "what?"

"fucking hallucinations," steve said. he stood up. the blanket slid to the ground, covering bucky's thighs. he moved towards the dining table, where sam had left a glass of water.

"steve - "

steve ran his hands through his hair, a wild kind of look in his eyes. "i'm losing my fucking mind!" he yelled, slamming his hands down on the table. the table splintered with a screaming kind of crack, and steve stumbled backwards. his back hit the wall, and he slid down, head in his hands. water trickled through the wreckage of the table. "i'm fucking hallucinating again."

"steve, you're not - i'm - i'm real, steve, i'm right here," bucky pleaded. he moved towards steve, clutching the blanket in his metal fist. "why don't you believe me?"

"i saw you die," steve whispered. he shook his head, closing his eyes. tears slid down his cheek, and he brushed them off angrily. "i saw you die, and now i'm fucking losing it."

"steve, i'm real, i promise you," bucky said, his voice almost...afraid. he was getting too close to the truth, then. "i'm real."

steve opened his eyes, staring bucky down. he can almost see the couch through him. "then prove it."

bucky hesitated, searching steve's face for something, any hint of what to do. he surged forward, squeezing his eyes shut and - and -

his lips were against steve's and steve made a kind of melting noise, something surprised, something broken and he was kissing back and bucky tasted like vanilla and steve was aching for more, every heartbeat felt like it had to be his last one, because there was no way that this was real and - oh.

steve pushed him off, hands against the dark cotton of bucky's t-shirt. bucky stumbled back, lips wet, eyes terrified.

"god," steve whispered. "you know just how to fucking get to me - you - you're in my head."

"what?" bucky's voice sounded so broken, and steve burned to hear it like that, but it's not real it's not real it's not real -

"you're giving me everything i want, you know what i want," steve's voice cracked. he dug the hell of his palm into his eyes, the darkness sprouting nebulas and universes in which steve rogers was not losing it. "it's in my head it's in my head it's all in my head."

"steve," bucky whispered. "i'm real."

"stop lying to me!" steve yelled, and his voice ripped at his throat. everything hurt so badly and he hated the future he hated it so much so fucking much. "i couldn't live without you the first time, so i crashed a plane into the arctic but that wasn't fucking enough, i can't live without you now, so i'm losing my fucking mind." he was screaming, but each word was punctuated with tears, with the kind of wet, sobbing anger that felt more like he was disintegrating into a million pieces of a person who loved bucky barnes more than the universe allowed him to.

steve was shaking, rocking back and forth, hugging his knees. "i can't live without you."

"steve, i'm right here, please listen to me."

steve was sobbing now, open, lungs wrenching out of his chest, everything he's been bottling up for the last few weeks coming out now, spilling onto the floor with his intestines and his stomach and his heart.

he was lonely unsafe hurt full of desideria and suicidal ideation and infelicity he was broken beyond repair he was

he was undefinable.

steve didn't like undefinable things.

he stood on shaking legs, almost tripping when he made his way to the cabinet in the northwest corner of the room. it didn't have a lock on it.

"steve," bucky whispered.

steve took out the gun. it felt cold in his hands. he was so cold. everything was so cold.

he was losing his fucking mind, he was hallucinating bucky loving him, and it had to be a hallucination, because sam said so, and bucky would never kiss him, steve remembers coming home too early one day and catching bucky with his hands up marjorie johnson's dress, and it had to be a hallucination because it's all he's wanted since he was sixteen and it's all he could never have and bucky barnes was dead and why was steve not with him yet?

the end of the line: the point beyond which survival cannot continue.

"you're in my head," steve whispered. "i just want it to stop. i can't - i can't be lonely anymore. i can't, i can't, i can't, i - "

bucky lunged forward, hands reaching for the gun, silver fist glinting like a knife in the darkness, and the last thing steve rogers sees are bucky barnes' eyes.