Never Go To A Stark Party

Chapter 7

As soon as Steve entered his room, he broke down. Empty sobs left him trembling and shaking, body heaving. It hurt to know that the man he fought tooth and nail for, had stayed up countless nights crying over, picked repeatedly over all the beautiful dames that were willing to throw themselves at him with the snap of a finger, had turned out to be nothing more than a deceiving facade.

He wasted years of his life trying to get the man to notice him, to accept and embrace him.

He collapsed onto his bed and curled up.

How he wished he had just stayed frozen in that deep, deep ocean.

Bucky finally moved from his spot when night had come. He had become almost catatonic as his brain worked desperately to process everything that had just happened hours prior.

Things finally made sense. Everything was finally pieced together, although it happened in quite possibly the most awful way ever.

Steve had been trying to tell him for weeks, but he ignored him. Pushed him away. Rejected him. Probably filled the man's head with insecurities he'd never want to have himself. He was so, so stupid.

Bucky didn't get it on with some stranger. He wasn't dragged away by some creep and taken. He didn't have his pride stolen. He had it given to him by no other than his best friend. God, he wished he could remember it.

He watched his feet as they shuffled slowly to his room. His face was numb from the night's cold air but he did nothing to warm it up. I don't deserve warmth. I lost the only guy who could provide it.

He climbed into his bed when he entered his room. He immediately sunk into the soft mattress. He stared up at the ceiling, mind wandering.

How could he have possibly forgotten something like that? How could he have possibly accused his best fucking friend of not caring? Steve Rogers? Not caring about him or his well being? Bucky was so stupid. He was so fucking stupid.

A tear slowly slipped out of his eye but he blinked it away quickly. Steve was right. He hadn't changed. He was still the emotionless man he had once been, so he didn't deserve the right to cry.

He stayed up that night.

When he woke up in the morning, he was immediately rushed with the strong urge to vomit. He shot up from his bed and ran to the bathroom. Despite his quick footsteps and actions, he felt heavy, slow.

He released the contents of his stomach into the toilet then flushed it. Droning on, he rinsed his mouth out then proceeded to get undressed. He hopped into the shower afterward.

The scorching heat of the water did nothing to sooth his erratic thoughts or aching bones. The events from the night before, however, numbed him. The shocking turn of events was just too much for the scarred man.

He got out once his skin began to wrinkle and didn't bother with getting himself a towel before he walked out of the bathroom. Water dripped off of his toned body and trailed down his curves, accentuating his muscular figure. As he strode to his walk-in closet, he glanced at himself in his full body mirror.

Stopping in front of the reflective surface, he let his eyes wander down his body. As soon as his stone blue orbs landed on his stomach, he felt a wave of nausea and uncertainty roll through him. The baby.

He had completely forgotten about it.

The man he had been trying to find turned out to be no other than his best friend--or, ex-best friend. The guy who got him pregnant was Steve fucking Rogers. Just how worse could his luck get?