I Will Wait For You [ stucky ]

three

935 words ✓

xxx

bucky

xxx

As a child, I'm sure my mother told me not to run into people. And if I did, say 'sorry', or 'excuse me.' All mothers tell their children that. Or, at least, they should. But for some reason, I'm standing here glaring at two children who have just run into me, while the woman who seems to be their mother, just hobbles after them, not even saying sorry on behalf of her kids.

The two children continue running down the street, bumping into other people as they go, not bothering to apologise.

I roll my eyes and walk into the Starbucks, grumbling to myself about dead chivalry. After standing in line, ordering, and finding an empty table to wait at, I look up to see a familiar man staring at me from across the room. "Oh, shit." I mumble, looking down, busying myself with my jacket sleeve.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the man put a phone up to his ear. "Steve? I think I found Barnes."

I stand and grab my backpack, dashing past people and muttering a quick 'sorry' as I bump into a woman. Ignoring the barista calling my name for my order, I run out of the building and into the street. A few cars honk their horns at me and I jump over them; I quickly realise that's not a good way to make myself less noticeable.

The sound of someone else running and the protests of some people tells me that the Falcon is chasing me, so I make a quick turn into an alleyway and climb up the fire escape. I'm halfway up the building when I see him enter the alley below me, looking around. I jump through the open window I'm next to and roll onto the floor, groaning as I hit my head on something. Probably a table. I think, and move my hand to my head, feeling the warm substance which is my blood.

"Dammit." I call into the silence, closing my eyes and trying to slow my breathing.

After a moment, another voice rings out.

"Holy shit."

My eyes fly open and I sit up, albeit a little too quickly. There's a throbbing feeling in my head but I ignore it as I stand and turn to see who's discovered me.

There's a boy of Hawaiian descent; a teen with wide brown eyes. His mouth is dropped open, his hand raised, pointing at me. "You're the Winter Soldier." He says, eyeing my left arm.

I look down to see that my sleeve is torn, then quickly cover it, looking up at him. "Nope. No, I'm not."

"You have a metal arm!"

"Ned? Who are you talking to?" Another voice asks from outside the room.

I whip my head toward the shut door, then back to the kid--Ned. My finger moves in a straight line across my throat and his eyes go wider as he nods slowly. "Uh-- nothing! Nobody, I mean....Just myself." He calls out to the other boy.

I move to the window and look out. Steve's friend is gone. Turning back toward Ned, I point at him. "You're not going to tell anybody you saw me, got it?"

He nods quickly, gulping.

I turn back to the window and jump through, climbing hurriedly down the fire escape. When I hit the bottom, I run off toward my apartment, keeping to alleys and backroads so as to avoid Sam or any other friends of Steve.

xxx

Laying back on my mattress, I stare up at the ceiling as various sounds emit from the speaker connected to the various mics hidden in Steve's apartment. It's been seven hours since Sam spotted me in the coffee shop; it's been one hour since he and Steve gave up on looking for me. At least, until tomorrow.

Unfortunately, Steve doesn't talk to himself often, unless it's to curse himself. Honestly he shouldn't do it, there's no reason for it. He hasn't done anything wrong.

Steve may not talk to himself, but I do know he's upset. He breaks things a lot. I've heard two plates drop in the last half hour. When he first came home from his search for me with Sam, he flipped something huge over--probably a couch.

Suddenly it goes quiet and I frown. It's only three in the afternoon, surely he isn't asleep. The door hasn't opened, so I know he hasn't left.

"I know you're there, Buck."

I suck in a breath and hold it, refusing to let go, refusing to breathe and let him know I'm listening. I'm aware he can't see or hear me; he's almost six blocks away.

There's a sigh before he speaks again. "I know you're out there, confused, lost, alone... but I want you to know, I'm here. I'm waiting right here for you, ready to take you in and help you regain your memories. Ready to love and care for you as... as your best friend."

It's quiet again, but I still don't exhale. My lungs burn, begging to release the air I've trapped in; I don't budge. There's something else, something Steve hasn't said yet. It feels as if hours pass, as we sit in this silence. I'm beginning to think he's finished talking when his voice echoes out again, softer this time.

"Maybe as something more."

And then it went silent. A minute passed. Three. Ten. An hour passed and I sat there, thinking about what he could mean. Unconsciously, my hand moved to my upper arm, where my tattoo was. Were there such things as platonic soulmates?

xxx