STEVE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND TO THE QUESTION. He stared up at the other boy who was still waiting for an answer, fidgeting in place, not looking at him as he waited. Steve blinked for a few moments before carefully asking.
"Bucky?" he asked, inclining his head, "He's my friend."
"I thought I was your friend," Rhett said immediately, looking hurt, "But you don't play with us or anything."
The smaller boy raised his hands helplessly. "I'm too sick. And no one wants me to play."
"I do!" Rhett cried, throwing up his arms, almost upset at the small boy, backing off immediately when he saw his reaction, a mix between fear and hardened determination, like he was ready to defend himself if he had to.
"Bucky is my friend and you are too," Steve said after a fair amount of time, "But all you do is play baseball, Bucky doesn't always."
Rhett mulled over that for a few moments. "So if I stopped playing baseball you'd play with me?"
Steve opened and closed his mouth, unsure of how to respond. "You-you'd stop playing baseball to play with me?"
"Well, I like you more."
º º º
The landline never rang.
Rhett woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. He had heard it ringing briefly, which had woken him up, but he had fallen back to sleep, assuming that it was a telemarketer. But by that point it was an almost consistent ring, and he was getting upset.
It was the weekend and he had plans on meeting up with Steve again—the two had gone on walks in Central Park every day that past week, avoiding the coffee shop at all costs—so waking up too early was upsetting to say the least.
He practically tore his door off his hinges as he went to the kitchen to answer the phone and probably scream at the person on the other end. When he did, he found Nicky leaving his room as well, bags under his eyes and a scowl etched into his features.
"You didn't sleep?" Rhett asked immediately, recognizing the particular look well.
"It's been a long week," Nicky spat, stalking towards the phone and answering it, practically shoving it against his ear, "Who the actual hell do you think you are?"
There was a pause.
Rhett walked over slowly as Nicky's expression morphed from anger to pure terror. He held out his arms placatingly, placing them lightly on the other man's arms, holding onto him as the younger man began to panic, his breathing growing more short.
"Nicky, Nicky," Rhett whispered softly, taking the phone out of his hand, placing it on the counter, the sound of the dial tone clearly heard.
Some people used to question why he was a psychologist if he had mental problems of his own, to which Nicky would reply, much too kind to be fair, that he had everything under control and they shouldn't question his own abilities and worry about themselves.
The last time Nicky had a panic attack—before September—had been five years before. But it seemed as though the fall had brought back enough problems to cause the man a great deal of stress.
"Breathe, breathe," Rhett whispered, helping the man into a chair, placing his head between his knees, "In...out...it's okay, Nicky, it's okay." He was more calm and distant than he ever wanted to be, but him panicking wasn't going to help Nicky in the slightest.
He stared at the clock as Nicky worked through everything on his own, watching as the hands moved along, as if it were to mean anything. As if numbers on a machine told him that he was closer to death, as if he didn't know it himself. As if they told him that there was no going back, when, in fact, there was. At least, there was supposed to be.
Finally, raised his head, his eyes meeting Rhett's, finding a blank stare in response. Despite his want for something more, he understood.
"That was my mom," he croaked.
Rhett's reaction was all he needed to feel better.
º º º
Steve was walking by himself. He had received a text from Rhett saying that he had to take a raincheck as something had come up. Steve decided not to ask, opting to just go on a walk himself.
As he made his way to Central Park, he thought back to Sam who had been the one to text him, telling him to go the day he had first run into Rhett. He smiled to himself, shaking his head at the way the world just seemed to work, how time seemed to align just so.
He missed Sam.
He shook his head, not wanting to ruin his day, but he couldn't help but feel the pang of longing as he thought back to all the people he couldn't see anymore. He couldn't see Sam, or Bucky, or anyone, really.
There were some people that he weren't even sure were alive. The thought of Thor and Bruce made him sick with worry on bad days, and vaguely worried on good. He thought back to Natasha, whom Tony hadn't gotten him in contact with when he helped him get back home.
He was alone.
He sighed, shaking his head, remembering the letter he had sent to Tony back when he was in Wakanda. It only made sense that, if he started off alone, he would end up alone. Just the way the world worked, it seemed.
He pushed up his glasses, tugging at his hat. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, but they never would. So he could just try to work with what he had. Maybe he could try to salvage the pieces and turn it into something new.
That sounded alright.
As he passed by the lampposts, he couldn't help but look at the numbers engraved at the base of the lamps, smiling to himself. He didn't particularly need to know where he was, but he loved that the lamps would help him find his way if he needed it.
An interesting metaphor, really. The lights would guide him home.
His mind began to drift as he thought, and he nearly tripped over the small boy that ran into his path. He stumbled slightly, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, steadying him as spun in the middle of the mostly empty pathway.
"Sorry!" the boy cried, adjusting his backpack, "I just gotta go."
"What's the rush?" Steve asked, surprised that a boy so small could talk and move so quickly, especially with such a large bag.
The boy shrugged, needing to take a step back to look at the man. "You wouldn't believe my life right now, mister, let me tell you."
Steve laughed softly, unable to keep from seeing himself in the small boy. In the determined look in his eyes, in the way he stood as if he could take on the world, despite being so small.
"You wouldn't believe mine, either," he said, resting his hands in his pockets, bending over to keep the boy from straining his neck.
The boy smiled for a moment, checking his watch, looking around. "I should probably get home...I don't know how to do that."
"Here," Steve said, walking towards one of the lamp posts, pointing to the four numbers, "The first two show you the street you're closest to and the last two tell you if you're closer to the east side or the west. Even numbers for east, odd for west."
"Cool!" the boy said, running his finger over the numbers, "That's awesome. Thanks."
"Are you by yourself?" Steve asked, looking around, then back at the boy; he seemed to be too young to be out by himself.
"I'm always alone," was the response he received, and Steve didn't know what to say to that. "For the most part at least. Do you know how that is?"
Steve found himself nodding numbly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. You know, I'm just gonna walk you to the end of the park, okay?"
"You don't have to," the boy said, already beginning to walk, Steve keeping stride easily, "I do this all the time, I just got a little confused. I'm used to being alone."
"Me too, kid," Steve said, continuing to walk with him, pondering over just how similar the two were, "Me too..."
By the time the two had reached the end of the park where the boy was to get off, Steve knew all there was to know about his school life, though knew nothing about his parents other than he only lived with his mother who "is too good for you, don't even think about it," to which he simply laughed.
"Thanks for listening, this was fun," the boy said, turning around to face Steve who hadn't quite left the park just yet, "I never caught your name."
Steve stared at the boy for a moment, still as shocked as the moment he had run into him. It was an odd experience, to say the least, but this boy was so young, so full of determination and life and a rare person to ever meet again.
"Call me Steve," he said, because despite the dark hair and eyes, Steve saw himself in this little boy who talked non-stop about his best friend and his mother, looking like he was itching for a fight that he never wanted to happen.
"That's a plain name," was the response he was given, and Steve was instantly reminded of Tony.
If he hadn't gone down in the ice, he would have tried to be the best role model to Tony. He would have looked down and seen a boy who was just like the one before him, which was an odd thought considering he had just seen himself a split second before.
"It's plain, but it's mine," Steve said, and the boy laughed.
"Well, cool," he said, beginning to walk away, "I'm Remy. Thanks for your help, Steve, have fun living your plain adult life."
Steve watched him go, shaking his head. "Have fun being young. Hold onto it while you can."
He turned around and walked deeper into the park. He hadn't ever exited it, really. It seemed that he could never quite let go of the past, no matter how hard he tried.
º º º
Rhett made an entire pot of hot chocolate.
The two were clad in their pajamas sitting on Rhett's bed clutching their mugs to their chests, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Nicky still hadn't stopped crying and Rhett was terrified beyond belief.
He had never met Nicky's family and didn't plan on it. His only encounter with his family had been his step-brother and that had been an experience all to its own that he would rather not relive, especially in larger quantities.
"God, I still have to organize all my files and I promised Eileen I'd get a list of colleges up that we could look at and—"
Rhett grabbed the man's wrist, looking at him with a mix of incredulousness and slight anger. "Are you seriously worrying about your job right now?"
"My job helps people, I can't just shirk it because I don't feel good," Nicky said, tugging his wrist out of his grip, fear flashing over his eyes as he struggled to break free, "You're hurting me."
Rhett let go sharply, hand still hovering in the air as Nicky rubbed at his wrist. "So she just called for no reason?"
"Wanted to know why Mason was in jail," he said, shaking his head, "It happened last month, but she's just now hearing about it."
"The hearing wasn't that long ago, right?" Rhett asked, glancing over at his calendar, trying to see if he had marked it in any way.
Nicky nodded, pressing his palms against his eyes. "Yeah...I don't know how she found out about it, I don't really care, but damn it, I'm pissed."
"Was she just trying to check in, figure out what was happening?" Rhett asked, knowing fully well that the answer would be no, and sounding very idiotic while asking, but he didn't know what else to say.
"She wanted to know what I did to my step-brother arrested," Nicky scoffed, turning away from him and Rhett's vision blurred.
Instead of the man he had been living with, Rhett saw a young teenage boy. Looked very different, but the jaw was the same, but there was no smile, no life, no joy. Just a broken teenage boy with tears in his eyes and his shoulders up to his ears as his mother screamed at him for making her look stupid at a parent-teacher meeting because he was doing well in school.
Rhett blinked, and the image was gone and all he could see was Nicky's back and his shaking shoulders, signaling that he was crying. It was as if the image had melted away into something that was the same, but so very different.
"Nicky," he whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Nicky, look at me. Come on, kiddo."
The younger man stiffened at the name, and Rhett didn't blame him. It held more weight and history than it had any right to, and using it when Nicky was in such a vulnerable state was treading on thin ice.
"My dad's in the hospital," he said, tapping his fingers, "Or whatever the jail equivalent of a hospital is, I don't know."
Rhett couldn't help but sigh, unable to keep the pity out of his voice, "Nicky..."
"I mean, he wasn't that big of a part in my life, he left pretty early on, but I still remember him," the man said, instantly beginning to ramble, "My step-dad wasn't any better, but he was around, you know?"
Rhett placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "How do you know?"
Nicky motioned towards the door, where his room was just a few feet away. "I've hacked Iron Man, prison records are nothing." He rubbed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath.
Rhett didn't know what to say. So he said nothing. He just sat next to the man, realizing that the past didn't just haunt him, but everyone else. Realized that while he could go back, no one else could. They had to live with what happened until the day they died, and he would too.
"I don't know how long I can keep doing this," Nicky admitted, "Everything's just coming back all at once, I'm not cut out for this, I don't know what I'm doing."
Rhett wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close as he stared at the watch on his desk that stared back at him mockingly, reminding him of all the things he could do, but can't.
"Just take it day by day. That's what I do."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
( 12.11.17 )
G O D Why can't I write anymore? I swear, this entire story is the blandest thing ever, I hate it so much
That scene with Steve and Remy wasn't planned, but I'm happy it happened because there was some deep reflection on Steve's part. Remy is a main character in my upcoming Tony Stark fic Broken Lullaby, just by the way.
Nicky's mother showing up is literally just me trying to find a subplot because honestly, I'm having difficulty moving the story along, so I'm sorry if things just start getting weird all at once.
That's all I have to say so...thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!