fugue // stucky

27. Bang, Bang, Bang.

The walk down the hallway seems to drag on. My feet don't echo on the tiles like everyone else's does. My head hurts too much for me to care.

It's like having your head slammed into a metal chamber wall over and over and over. I would know.

It starts to get so familiar and so evident that you forget what life is like without the constant pounding.

Bang, bang, bang.

"Bucky?!"

I roll over, mumbling incoherently.

"Bucky!"

My eye peeks open, but no one is in my bed next to me. Steve?

Where's Steve?

Then I hear the banging. My body shoots up so fast my back singes in complaint. I seethe but don't slow down, bouncing up and out of my bed. The slam of fists against my somehow locked door makes my stomach churn.

"Bucky!" He sounds absolutely terrified. My insides flip around with nausea at the thought of him being injured.

I unlock the door and immediately put my hands on his face, checking for any wounds. He has a burn on his cheek and arm. I swoop my arms under him and pick him up into me.

"I- I was trying to-" he's shaking and crying, "I was trying to make you breakfast-" his hands tremble as they grasp my biceps, "it's-it's your birthday Buck- your birthday-"

Oh wow, I guess it is my birthday.

"Shh-" I interrupt him and cup his cheek, "thank you, Stevie-"

"Buck!" He looks up at me with wild eyes, his small finger outstretched toward the kitchen.

My heart sinks.

Our kitchen. It's on fire.

Not even thinking about leaving Steve alone for a second, I bound out the door and down the apartment complex fire escape. Once we are outside, I place Steve down on the safe grass and rip off a strand of my shirt, tying it firmly against his arm wound.

"Call 911," in instruct him, my hands on his cheeks, "stay out of the building. Don't you dare go in for me if I don't come out," I say sternly, not wanting to think of that. Pure gut instinct comes over me and suddenly my lips are on his in a sweet goodbye kiss.

I kissed him. I just kissed Steve.

I don't know what overcame me, but it felt completely natural, and the right thing to do. I can't think about it right now, and judging by the look on Steve's beautiful face, he doesn't want to either. I almost choke on an apology but I swallow my pride and sprint back into the building.

Am I stupid?

The doorknob on our apartment is warm. I fall onto my stomach and peek under the wooden frame. Heat radiates onto me in a hot burst. Can't go in through here.

Truth is, I know I can't put out the fire, I knew that the second I saw it. I only came back to try and rescue Steve's pictures of his mother.

My feet carry me down the eerie hallways. Lights flicker as the alarm sounds loudly, my head wooshes as the ringing and pounding hits my temples. Think, think, think.

Window!

I turn into my neighbor's open apartment and follow the floor plan until I find a window suitably close to ours. It's easy to get out, and I only have about ten foot of ledge. It seems wide enough, about the size of my feet and an inch. I stay with my stomach to the wall and shimmy as fast as I can to the right.