ashes, ashes - stucky

- daybreak -

The art room was huge, and Steve loved it. He felt like be could create anything in such a space. His classmates, fellow artists, were always so supportive. It was truly a safe space.

In fact, their first 'assignment' that year was to make something that would make them feel at ease. They could use whatever medium they wanted as far as types of paint, pencil, charcoal, or pen. Rogers chose one of his favorites: watercolor.

"Isn't it so ridiculous that I'm in this class?" From next to Steve came a familiar voice, accompanied by a barking laugh. "I mean, I can't even hold a pencil right. Guidance thought I needed a 'creative outlet'." It was Stephen Strange.

Smiling, the smaller male turned towards the other. "Maybe... instead of fighting which way your hands wanna go," he began, warmth in his tone. "you can let them do whatever, and call it abstract." His gaze dropped to Stephen's paper, which held some rather wobbly sketches. There were darker marks in some places, revealing that Strange was starting to let his frustration get the best of him.

"But won't it just look like scribbles?" Stephen asked genuinely. Despite popular belief, he wasn't unkind. He was harsh, sure, but secretly a softy.

"Not if you do things like vary your line thickness and value." Producing another piece of paper, Rogers let his wrist guide his pencil along without much rhyme or reason. He then grabbed a sharpie, tracing certain parts of the line. He purposefully missed the line that he was tracing in some instances, just to prove that it would still look alright. "Art is about intent, Stephen. If you can convince someone that you meant to do whatever it is that you did, you're doing it right."

Strange seemed to take that to heart. He turned his attention back to his work, but still wanted to hold their conversation. "What are you painting?"

The blonde smiled softly, running his thumb along the edge of his paper for a moment. "My parents." It was common knowledge that Steve's parents had passed away, so everyone knew not to pry about it. Unfortunately, it was also easy ammo for bullies.

Matching the other's sad smile, Stephen was overcome with empathy. It was a foreign emotion to him. "Mine are gone too, Rogers. Mom went in the beginning of summer, and Dad died just before school. Everyone already knows about Donna." It was true. When Donna Strange had drowned, there was a mourning assembly for her. She was only a grade behind her brother, and even as a freshman, had made many friends at school.

However, the only other person to know about Stephen's parents was Tony. Steve couldn't decipher why he'd chosen to tell him such sensitive information, but he didn't want to ask either.

"I'm sorry, Stephen. I know that there's nothing to say, but I really am sorry." Rogers hugged his friend, knowing that he wouldn't receive an embrace in return. He didn't take it as an insult, because he knew that if Strange would have accepted his act of kindness, he would have broken down.

.....

Taking his first steps into the video class, Bucky was nervous. Film was an elective that was only available to seniors, so he'd never met the teacher or been inside the room for very long. There were cameras everywhere, big and small. A tall man sat at a desk near the front of the room, waving at Barnes as he entered.

"You must be James." He smiled, trying to make a good first impression. Most students said that they liked Mr. Sal. Others found him overbearing.

Bucky stuck his hand out, which the man shook. "Bucky, actually. No one calls me James anymore." He shrugged, taking his backpack off and placing it under a nearby desk. As Barnes tried his absolute best to take his surrounding in, a low hum filled his brain. It was like static, with feeble whispers licking at his senses. He sat down, putting his face in his hands for a moment. The noises would pass. They always did.

"You okay?" An average-height teen regarded Bucky. He sounded less concerned than intrigued. "We can step out for a bit. Mr. Sal don't mind."

Turning his head to see who was talking to him, Bucky was met with more questions. He'd never seen this kid before. Dark hair, light eyes. There was a bandage over the bridge of the other's nose. Had he broken it? "Sorry, who are you?" Bucky was defensive. He'd been caught at a vulnerable moment, like a wounded animal.

The other seemed to ponder this for a moment, finally deciding on, "Marc Spector. For now, anyway."

"For now?"

Marc laughed, a hand on his stomach. Had he made a joke? Bucky didn't think so.

"Yeah, uh... 'til another guy jumps in my skin." Spector took in Bucky's confused expression and decided to explain himself further. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean t' confuse ya. I got DID. Means there's a few extra personalities in here." He knocked on his head like it was a door, grinning goofily. "This is my first year in a public school. Figured it'd be good to have the experience."

Ah, a crazy person. Barnes felt the urge to get up and walk away, but he couldn't. His butt was glued to the seat, and his legs felt too heavy. Instead, he continued conversation. "That's cool. I mean, that you're socializing. Not... y'know."

Marc waved off Bucky's concern, making sure the other wasn't too uncomfortable. "No, yeah, it's good for me. I think everyone should talk to more people. Ya never know what they're gonna say." He paused, locking eyes with Bucky once more. "I came over here because you looked lost, man. Losing control is scary, but sometimes it's the only to find yourself." With those words, he went back to his own seat, pulling out a book and beginning to read like nothing had happened.

Nodding to himself, Barnes closed his eyes. He rested his head on his arm until the teacher began explaining how the rest of the year would work. The ringing in his ears had stopped. Maybe Marc was onto something.

.....

"I bet my day was way crazier than yours." Bucky nudged Steve's side, smiling brightly. If you knew Barnes at all, you'd know that he only smiled like that when he was with his best friend.

Rogers shook his head, giving his friend an even bigger grin. "I doubt it. I'll bet you 20 bucks that my day was weirder."

"You're on." The two were walking home together, as they had ever since their first day of freshman year. "I'll go first. Today I met a kid who'd never been to public school. He says he has multiple personalities and-"

"Oh, that's Marc Spector." Steve cut the other teen off, as if it was no big deal. "Sometimes it's Steven Grant, or Jake Lockley. That's who I've met so far, anyway."

"No way. You already know him?" Bucky threw his arms up in defeat. "You're too social, Rogers."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Steve looked up at Bucky as if to say 'my turn.' "So, today..." he began, trying to drag out the moment for as long as possible. "Stephen Strange confided in me after I gave him art advice."

Bucky opened his mouth to react, shock written all over his face. However, Steve held up a hand to signal that he wasn't done talking. "And he let me give him a hug."

Without another word, Barnes dug into his pocket. He grumbled to himself, handing over a $20 bill.