Who Am I? » [Stucky]

91. My Avenger

Steve couldn't stop the grin that commanded his glowing face, and didn't want to. For the first time in a two weeks he had felt hope. He had felt a positive emotion and it was slowly consuming him like a toxin in his veins; it had waged siege on his heart, battling its way in and taking control of it. Trying to bury that ecstatic emotion would be an atrocity and he clung on to that great feeling tenaciously.

As he pulled up outside of his old home he felt a wave of optimism overcome him, there was a bounce in his springy step, an eager certainty that it was where he was going to find Bucky. There was a confidence in his gut, an instinctual feeling. He could almost feel his presence like a sniffer hound can follow a scent and find a person.

The moment the chugging bike resounded in the neighbourhood, Bucky's ears were burning. He'd heard that engine being revved too many times to forget its distinct sound. His eyes darted about the room, he saw no way out; it was a dead end. He had a grime coated green-tinged window to his left and a door which lead back through to the kitchen; there was nowhere to run.

Steve plodded his was up the shaky eroded metal steps, the rusting material creaking beneath his feet. He reached the decaying door, dank and damp and crumbling to the touch. His eyes registered the sign nailed into the rank wood and he frowned; it was an unwise decision to enter, but it was a necessary evil.

An eyebrow rose questioningly as he saw the key lodged in the lock, a shiny lump of metal that stood out against the rotting door and sparkled as the sun hit it. He gave the door a tentative wary push, just letting it rock open on its own hinges and a long creak sounded, eeking into the cavernous rooms.

He ducked in through the wonky doorframe and peered in at what used to be his home. It broke his heart in two to see it in such a deteriorated state; to see it mistreated by the elements and time; battered and crumbling. What used to be a sanctum had become a rotting hellhole. It was rather reflective of how their relationship had become.

"Hello?" His inquisitive voice escaped into the gloomy imposing interior, and the sounds of beating wings fluttered above him as a gang of pigeons roosting in the eaves took flight all at once, fleeing the site in anticipation. "The door was open... So I just came in," Steve explained.

Bucky mentally slapped himself for neglecting locking the door. It could've served as a decent barricade between the pair of them or at least bought him some time to think up an escape plan and put it into action.

"I'm really hoping you're in here, buddy..." Steve spoke to the silence, his eyes dancing about, trying to discern any signs of life or movement; trying to pick out anything alive in the deathly apartment. "I've been looking all over..." Like a madman he spoke to what he feared would be an empty house. "Everywhere... I'm sorry it took this long to find you again, it turns out they don't keep CCTV in derelict buildings. Tony and Bruce have hacked the state's mobile network and CCTV feed to try and find you, and that still didn't work. It took me too long to work out where you'd hide. I'm sorry I didn't catch you last time," Steve admitted, looking guiltily down at his feet. "I'm sorry I didn't catch you the first time, Bucky..."

Bucky's heart was beating rapidly at the touching words; they were so heartfelt and honest and he felt guilty for letting Steve be alone; he could hear the weakness and desperation in his wavery voice, inflecting randomly and rather hoarse. He felt solely responsible for the weak tone of Steve's usually confident and bubbly voice. He sounded unlike himself.

Steve wandered about, every footstep creaking worryingly, as if the floor was going to give way at any moment. The planks supporting his feet felt weak and wobbled and bent beneath his feet. A beetle scuttled by as he went to peer into Bucky's old bedroom, just peeping through the gap in the door.