fugue // stucky

13. Quite A Sight

I stand in Steve's apartment, motionless. All of my stuff is put neatly away. I didn't have much. I'm standing, standing, standing. Steve is somewhere in here. I can't remember. It's almost two in the morning. I still haven't slept. This day keeps dragging on.

I feel my weight shift, and that I'm leaving slightly to the right. I straighten myself and continue standing. My eyes are fixed on the same spot. There's a small speck of dirt on the grout in between two pearly white tiles a few feet in front of me. I focus on it. My mind is so full of worry and confusion and memories. I want it to stop. I wish I would have pulled the trigger.

"Buck?" I hear a soft whisper. I don't move. I see his socks out of the corner of my eye.

"Bucky? Please," he prods. I feel more emotion get crammed into me. I can't handle it.

"Can you talk to me?" His voice is shaky. I breathe deeper and swallow for the first time in hours.

The floor creaks quietly as he walks over to me. He's standing directly in front of me, blocking my speck of dirt. I blink, instead focusing on a speck of lint on his shoulder.

"I'm here, whenever you need me," he says and puts his forefinger and thumb on my chin. I'm forced to look up at him. His eyes shine with raw emotion. I blink again and he looks distraught. Shaken. Distant. I feel guilty and look back at the ground.

"How bout we get you washed up?" He whispers and moves his head down so I face him again. I blink. I feel like a stubborn child.

"I already had a shower," I mutter. He nods.

"It'll make you feel better," his voice is gentle and soft. I feel better just listening to him.

I look at him and nod and he smiles a small smile, putting his arms around me and leading me toward the bathroom around a corner. My feet drag. He sighs and scoops me up into his arms. I let out a groan and my stomach drops. I really am useless.

"I can walk," I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head against his shoulder.

"Not fast enough," he looks down at me and I feel a tiny smile play on my lips. His eyes light up and he pushes his opposite shoulder into a door, revealing a sparkling white full bath. I frown. I only had a four by four dingy column as a bathroom. It takes me a moment to notice my razor on the counter and that I live here now.

He sets me on the closed toilet and leans over the tub, his long fingers turning the knobs and setting it at a medium warmth.

"You can use my soaps," he walks over to me, putting both of his hands on either side of my face. I'm too tired to jerk back this time. I stare at the ground.

He leans towards me, his presence and scent overwhelming. He smells like a sweet mint. Something distinctively male.. and Steve. I sigh through my nose and he places his lips against my forehead. I feel my eyelids shut instinctively. My stomach flutters and I finally look up at him. His eyes search mine, and he pulls away.

"When you're done, I'll be in the living room," he promises me. I nod, waiting for him to walk out. He's wearing nothing but dark navy sweats and a loose white v neck. I swallow quickly.

There's a small fruit fly buzzing around the bathroom. It's tiny, irrelevant. I watch it contently for a long stretch of time. There's not a clock in here.

I think of who I am, and what I'm going to do. I can't leave Steve. I can't. I can't go back into cryo.. a shudder zips through me. I remember being shoved into a steel box and being so confused. I looked out of the tiny window and saw nothing but my own, scared reflection. Then I was out. I woke up a decade later.. just to kill someone.