Ready Set Breathe (A Steve Rogers Destruction Story)

59 Star

It took a couple days for Bucky to get out of the hospital with directions to take it easy, and the moment he was out, he returned to Steve because he recognized the feeling in him of falling apart on the inside and he was desperate in trying to hold everything together.

Steve was getting better. His bruises were going away and his broken bones were healing. He could stand now, although it hurt a little, and he could take care of himself.

Steve decided no more bombs. Not for a while.

When Bucky knocked on the door, it was with an urgency, and Steve opened it as fast as he could and saw Bucky there, looking green.

“What’s wrong?” Steve started to ask, but before he could finish, Bucky thrust the handle end of a Swiss Army pocket knife at him with his one, violently shaking hand, and Steve realized.

Next time you feel like that, Steve had said. Next time you feel like that, don’t cut yourself up. Find me.

I’ll help you.

Carefully, he took the knife from Bucky and snapped it closed, putting it in his back pocket and then, although it hurt to be squeezed, he reached out and enveloped Bucky in an embrace. Bucky returned a tight, almost desperately tight, one-armed hug and Steve invited him inside.

He knew he couldn’t quite imagine what Bucky must be feeling as he sat him down carefully in the living room and watched him rub the back of his neck anxiously. They sat there for a long time in thick silence and Steve’s mind was filled with thought. Bucky stared blankly at the ground and Steve could see him trembling. Finally, he said something.

“How are you feeling?” Steve said. “They said you saved Sharon.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said and his eyes flickered down to his own chest and then back at the carpet. “Three days.”

“What do you mean?” Steve said.

“Three days to heal completely,” Bucky clarified and he swallowed. “It’s, uh, it’s fine now.”

Steve felt as though he ought not tell Bucky it was a good thing. His first instinct was to act positive, to say to Bucky, it’s so good that you’re feeling better now, but he bit his tongue. It wasn’t want Bucky wanted to hear.

And he knew Bucky wasn’t exactly feeling better now. He could feel the shape of the knife in his back pocket and swallowed.

“Did something happen?” He asked and Bucky screwed his face up and then shrugged.

“No,” he said hollowly, but it wasn’t a resigned no, or even a sad one. He sounded almost scared, like it would have been better had something happened because then, he could attribute a reason to feeling so bad. Instead, he just felt bad when he knew he shouldn’t and Steve understood this so intimately that he saw it in his face and he wished he knew what to tell Bucky.

“Thanks for coming here,” Steve replied and Bucky shrugged again and shifted in his chair.

“I don’t want to be this,” he said and Steve bit his lip.

“I understand,” he said. There was another pause and Steve watched Bucky study the ground.

“You’re human,” Steve said finally and Bucky stiffened and in his eyes there was the pain of being hit, of being stunned. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut and Steve held his breath.

“I,” Bucky choked out. “I dunno, Steve. I don’t think I fit that description anymore.”

“So maybe you’re different,” Steve said and leaned in close and threw up his hands. “I am, too.”

“Have you ever heard the word ‘cyborg’,” Bucky continued and he stared at his one right hand and his eyes were so full of hate. He looked over at Steve and the resentment was there. There was pain inside him. “I have. It’s a new word, but they needed it to describe people like me because they couldn’t use the word ‘human’.” Steve didn’t know what to say. “Or maybe ‘monster’ would be accurate too, because there’s stuff in my blood that makes me different.”

“Bucky,” Steve said and Bucky’s eyes were red and he pressed his mouth together and turned away. He rubbed his face.

“But I don’t want to believe that,” he said. “So I came here. Keep my knife, I don’t want it.” After a while, Bucky turned back. “Tony’s fixing my prosthetic,” he said. “I probably ruined your star painting.”

“That’s fine, I’ll do it again,” Steve said and Bucky couldn’t seem to meet his eye.

“Thanks” he said. He leaned back into the cushions and covered his eyes tiredly and Steve looked away. “You, uh, been doing more art lately? You haven’t told me about anything,” Bucky said and Steve knew he was trying to lighten up the conversation, but Steve felt the question heavy like a weight and he didn’t know how to respond.

“Uh, no,” he said and he wished he could say yes and he wished he could be okay for Bucky and he wished things could just be normal. “No, I, um, haven’t.”

“Why not?” Bucky asked and Steve grimaced.

“I’ve been… Tired,” he said. “I don’t want to do it anymore.” He knew now that Bucky could sense the tension in the air, in Steve’s shoulders, in his heart. The truth was, he had a hard time seeing the point in creating anymore and it didn’t make him feel better and he knew that was wrong, but he didn’t know what to do.

“Oh,” Bucky said and then he swallowed and continued.

“I think we need a break,” he said, looking up now into Steve’s face. Steve stared back desperately. “From the… The bombs and the guns and the knives and the hospitals and…” Bucky stopped and pressed his mouth together and stared at the carpet and his eyebrows furrowed and he looked concerned, or angry, or just on the verge of the kind of tears that come too easy and never seem to stop. “A break.”

“That’d be nice, Buck, but...” Steve said and he knew he didn’t have to continue because the unfinished sentence hung in the air and Steve could see in Bucky’s eyes that he’d already finished it.

But it can’t happen. That’s not our lives.

“It can’t be like this forever,” Bucky said and Steve nodded and when Bucky stood up to leave, Steve wrapped him in an embrace so tight and didn’t want to tell him, please, please stay. “We can’t be sad forever.”

Steve watched Bucky on the street from his window, watched him put his hand into his pocket, watched the snowflakes swirling and Bucky duck his head to avoid the eye contact and disappear back into the building across the street and Steve turned around and let out a breath and ran one hand through his hair, trying not to let the heartbreak overwhelm him.

Cause Bucky had to be right, he had to be. They couldn’t feel like that forever. And Steve wanted to live to see the day they both felt better.