In Time (Stucky)

Lilac Flowers

October 8, 1967

Steve's POV
 
 

I watched as the leaves started to change, the cool wind passed by. I knew it was the end of summer but the sun still shinned brightly, kids still played outside I think we were all trying to hold onto that freedom just for a bit longer. It seemed like summer was just a fading memory, it had come and gone just like that. School already started, parents were free from us for awhile.

I heard the laughter from the kids across the street from me. A couple of younger boys hanging out. That made me smile. I think kids always had it the best, they seemed to have this shield from the world. Like an innocence that protected them. I wonder if they knew what was going on in the world, did it hurt them? Did they even care? I hope they never lost that innocence, sometimes the world was to scary.

I waved to a couple neighbors that sat outside, always dressed nice. I noticed that some boys had long hair while some girls had short hair. I thought that was interesting, I don't think I would grow out my hair like them. Just wasn't my thing. I'd prefer it short like how I have it. My eyes wandered  up ahead and seen the familiar lilac flowers. I smiled lightly.

I felt that tug of a bitter sweet feeling inside of me. I forgot what they called those flowers, I know my dad would have remembered. He also would have remembered that they represented New York. He loved those flowers. He gave my mom those on their first date, but I think he always liked them. Anytime we passed this house he would smile and study them like it was new everytime. My dad was the type of man who liked looking at flowers, I wonder what that was like to see beauty in something that most men were afraid to admit.

I stopped in front of the house, their garden was filled with different types of flowers but the lilac ones always were his favorite. I wanted to take them again- again you say, you mean you've taken these flowers before? Yes. Yes, stealing is wrong. I get that but these people had money to replant them all the time. It does make me feel bad but I usually don't have enough for flowers, and my dad. He deserved to have these flowers, none of that cheap crap. Why does everyone else get to have nice flowers, why can't he?

I opened their gate and carefully kneeled down next to them. I was an expert at this by now, kinda a bad skill to have but at last a skill!  I pulled the flowers carefully out of the dirt, four flowers. That's what my dad would want. I patched up the dirt and dusted myself off. I picked them and closed the gate but that's when I heard his voice,

"What's your bug man? You've been bagging the flowers?" I could hear the New York in him, a crisp and clean accent. Nothing to heavy but it was there.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. I turned around and gave him a cheeky smile.

"No actually I've been bagging all your food." I remarked. He cracked a small smile and then put back on his tough guy look. It kinda scared me, but I knew this guy wasn't mean.

"You gonna call The Man?" I asked.

He studied me. His blue eyes looked like they were right through me, I wanted to hide. I wonder what he was trying to find? There was something about him, I knew who he was but he didn't know me. But he looked at me like he knew me, like he knew why I was doing this. I think he saw a part of him in me, I doubt it though. I could never be like him.

I wanted to tell him that I know stealing is bad. I know that I shouldn't have done this, but my dad. I don't think I would be able to say that part out loud.  I could just drop the flowers, apologize but I needed to pay for what I did. Maybe these flowers were important to him too like they were to me.

"Nah, ain't worth it. But I'd rather you show me the girl who gets these lucky flowers." He said.

"Okay." I said and I lead the way.
 
    Tough luck, he thought I was going to meet a girl.

He stood a reasonable distance behind me, the flowers felt heavy in guilt. Sorry Dad, but I couldn't help myself. I just wanted to give you something nice.

I'm glad he didn't ask any questions, just waited to see what was going to happen. I knew who he was, everyone did. James Barnes, or as most knew him Bucky. I found that scary, people could know you but you don't know them. Nobody knew me, I never had to worry about that. He played baseball, but he wasn't those stereotypically Jocks or anything. He was smart, never acted stupid. He cared about people, never tolerated the harassment of others.
 
    And another thing he never had a girl, like he wasn't in a relationship which was just odd.  He was likeable, girls would line up for him if given the chance but he never got with anyone. He hung out with one girl, Natasha which rumoured they were separated at birth or some shit. I knew guys and girls could be friends, but they were close. I've never seen something like that before. I've never seen anyone like him before. There was just something about him, I don't know.

                           

                            * * *

After the long and quiet walk, we made it to the grassy field. It was full of tombstones and sad stories. I was careful not to step on anything as we passed through. I looked back to see his face, it was unreadable. Was he angry? Sad? Confused? I couldn't tell, he kept a straight face but his eyes looked sad and apoplectic and I hated that.

I found my father, he would always be there waiting. I kneeled down and placed my hand on my father, cold and rough. I wanted to feel his touch again, I forgot what his hugs were like. I placed the light purple flowers next to him and turned towards Bucky.

"It's just my old man who got the lucky flowers." I said, they aren't so lucky.
 
    I think Bucky wanted to cry more then I did. Apologetic eyes, I wanted him to just look at me like he did everyone else. I didn't want to be felt sorry for. I hated that everyone felt sorry for me. Yeah yeah, Steve Rogers the guy without a dad. I hated that.

"Those are beautiful flowers. Your dad liked them?" He asked.

This was new. Why did he care so much? Everyone just said sorry, or other bullshit because deep down they really didn't care. I've never heard another guy say flowers were beautiful, nobody expect my dad.

"He loved them. He always thought they were beautiful." I answered.

    Beautiful didn't feel right in my mouth, it didn't belong to someone like me. I wasn't beautiful like my dad. I don't think I would ever fully understand that word, that word wasn't right for me.

When I was younger I always thought those flowers were kinda sad, purple seemed like a sad color. My dad he loved them, he didn't care for the golden ones or roses. He said those were different, that brought something new into the world. I never knew what he meant. I still don't.

"He must have been a beautiful man." He said quietly and walked away.

    My dad was one of the most beautiful people. I wish they never took that beauty away from me.