chance // chris evans a.u.

one

Chris

He had retreated to his office at the gym with the door closed when Ryan found him. Chris sat with his scarred, shaking hands holding his head, slumped over in the chair at his desk as he struggled to breathe. 

"Evans! Bro, you need to see this chick downst-," Ryan burst through the door with an excited grin on his face. The smile dropped as soon as he saw the state Chris was in. He rushed forward and moved swiftly behind Chris, placing a firm hand on the seated man's shoulder and pulling him to lean against the back of the chair before wrapping Chris up in a light headlock. Ryan took deep even breaths, closing his eyes as he tried to will Chris' breathing to slow down and match the pace of his own. 

"Chance, buddy c'mon, you're here. You're here and you're safe. You're not there anymore. You're here, you're right here. I'm here too," Ryan repeated the mantra softly, allowing the long time nickname to slip past his lips as the tension left his shoulders and he felt Chris' breathing begin to steady.

"I- I'm good, Ry," Chris said softly, waving a shaky hand in an attempt to get Ryan's attention. Ryan stepped back and grabbed Chris' water bottle before handing it to his best friend, who was breathing heavily, but in slow and measured heaves. Chris took a few gulps from the reusable bottle and closed his eyes, allowing Ryan to take a good look at him. 

Chris was a big guy, well over six foot tall and the incredible shape he kept himself in was a result of the discipline that was drilled in to him his whole life, first by his military bound father and reinforced by the Marines when he joined up himself. He was handsome, with a straight nose and full lips, and more recently found sporting a thick beard which Ryan believed was really more of a security blanket than anything because it made Chris feel more covered up against prying eyes. Because the first thing that people noticed about Chris Evans was not his height or his attractive features. The first thing people noticed were the scars.

They covered the back of Chris' entire body, stretching from the small of his back to the tops of his shoulders. The skin was mottled and splotchy with white scar tissue, as was the bottom left side of his face and neck. On the good days, Chris was almost able to reach the level of physical activity he had in basic training. On those days he was able to go for an early morning run and an evening jog, lead all of his classes at the rec center he owned and get in a pretty good work out. On the bad days, Chris could barely get out of bed because of how stiff his muscles were and the shrieking pain that danced like fire up and down his limbs. On those days he simply sent Ryan a text and proceeded to spend the rest of daylight trying to get out of bed. 

Of course, Ryan didn't know how bad the bad days were, no one did. Chris would never let them, he was too ashamed. He knew that if Ry had even an inkling of how it was on the days Chris didn't even think he could get out of bed to take a piss, he would be in Chris' apartment to help without a second thought and Chris didn't want his best friend's pity. Hell, he didn't want anyone's pity. 

"What the fuck happened, Chance?" 

Ryan's worried tone jolted Chris out of his reverie. He took another deep breath, closing his eyes as he thought about how good it felt to expand his lungs to their fullest after being unable to draw a full breath for what felt like hours but in reality was probably not even ten minutes. 

"Chance," Ryan said softly, "do you know what set you off this time?"

"Guess it was just me stressing about bills or somethin'," Chris muttered, not meeting Ryan's worried gaze. He didn't need Ryan to know that his own mind had caused his control to slip like that. Chris didn't even want to know that. He felt like child who couldn't regulate his own emotions and he hated it.

"Yeah okay, sure," Ryan said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "When you're ready to talk, you know I've got you. Loyal always."

"Loyal always," Chris replied, somehow mustering up the energy to shoot Ryan a half smile. "What were you yelling about when you came up here?"

"Oh shit, I almost forgot! You need to come see this chick downstairs! She wants a membership or lessons or some shit! She looks like some kind of tiny bad ass fairy or something!" Ryan beckoned to Chris, almost child like in his excitement.

Chris pushed himself to his feet, trying his best to ignore how much his body protested the movement. Sometimes he felt like his body was attacking him and he didn't know what to do. Before he enlisted, his body felt like the one thing in his life that wouldn't ever betray him. Chris grimaced and shook his head in an attempt to derail his train of thought as he followed Ryan so he could meet the "bad ass fairy".

As he moved stiffly down the stairs that led from his office to the rest of the gym, Chris shot a longing glance farther up the stairs behind him at the door to his apartment, wanting nothing more than to collapse on his bed and fall asleep. Instead, he turned his focus towards putting what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face as he stepped onto the main floor of his gym.