#azzano

The muffled sound echoed through their appartement even though it wasn’t a scream – more like some sort of cut short mild shout, a stressed indicator of having been startled. Nevertheless, Steve was up and halfway through the hallway instantly, realized Bucky was in the living room and changed his course, arriving at the door-less entrance – all over the impressive span of about six seconds. He knocked on the door frame, heart thumping in his chest, and blinked sleep away. His friend was sitting up on the couch he had fallen asleep on, hair ruffled and face pale, but neither gasping for air nor having that awful awful look on his face that usually was a tell tale sign of having checked out mentally. Good.

The small lamp on the couch table bathed the living room in half-hearted mild light, and Steve knocked again, heart beating fast in his chest.

The ‘hmpf yeah’ coming from Bucky brought a wave of relief and gratefulness with it, and Steve entered the room while the other man rubbed his flesh hand over his face, looking towards him with tired but surprisingly alert eyes. Their gazes met and when Bucky gave him a small shake of his head Steve made a conscious effort not to sigh and make a face of resignation. Bucky didn’t want to talk about it this time, and he supposed that was okay. Of course it was. Didn’t mean Steve wasn’t worried or, hell, even curious. He wanted to help. Wanted to help Bucky carry some of the burdens, at least.

They sat in silence for a moment, Bucky pushing one of the blankets, making it slip to the ground so it only covered his socked feet. He then let his hands fall into his lap, fingers clasped loosely. Steve watched his features from the side, trying hard not to bite his inner cheeks. He only blinked and looked forward on purpose, when Bucky looked down at his hands and started to talk.

„Sometimes I think you shouldn’t have saved me, Steve.” His voice was rough.

Steve’s reaction was instant, a band around his chest pulling tightly and a chill coming over his entire body. His lips started moving before he could form a coherent thought. “Bullshit.” Silence. Steve licked hips lips, nervous and more shaken by Bucky’s statement than he wanted to show. “You pulled me out of the Potomac, too. Didn’t have to, either, you know?” “Not talking about pulling me outta the damn water, Rogers. After making the helicopter crash if I may add.” “What do you-“ Steve froze, mouth still open. Then his teeth clicked shut.

“You mean back then, after Azzano.” A tense silence settled over them again.

Bucky leaned back and didn’t meet his eyes, fingers playing with a loose thread of his shirt now, movements slow. “Lotsa stuff wouldn’t have happened, Steve.”, Bucky mumbled. “If you had just…”, a shrug of his shoulders, “…not come to get me.” Steve's gaze rested on Bucky, feeling…a whole lot, but mostly very very sad - then he frowned and shook his head a little. “That’s not true, and I will tell you again and again until you believe it.” He hesitated, before continuing.  “It all might have happened even sooner, Buck. This way, we-“ “No.”, Bucky interrupted, and looked up, throwing Steve a glance, a slight frown appearing between his eyebrows. “No.”, he repeated, softer.

“I was- I was still me enough to maybe stop it, I was still…capable enough. Not-… Not as half-dead as later, a-after the train. I would’ve found a way to not let that happen. I would’ve. Would’ve found a way to end it.” The words came fast now, Bucky looking at the loose thread again. “Me. End me.”, he added, mumbling, as if it was an afterthought. It wasn’t.

Steve’s lips parted on their own accord, his face blanching, but other than that he remained calm on the outside, trying not to show how a wave of ice seemed to roll through him and how Bucky’s words made him nauseous in a matter of seconds. For a moment he felt light-headed. He stared at his friend, his. His. His Bucky. And felt something akin to despair and most definitely fear raving through his veins. Another moment of silence passed, during which Steve willed his racing heart to calm down. He resisted the urge to clear his throat and freeing himself off invisible chains around his neck, the sudden feeling of a toxic lump in his throat.  His raging thoughts slowed and almost came to a stop when he noticed Bucky’s lips where a tight white line that still hat a very small tremble to them, and that he was blinking in a strange way. He-.

Bucky was close to crying. His eyes were shadowed, but Steve could see they were glistening with unshed tears. He swallowed hard. As always in these situations, he wasn’t fully sure what to say, even though it tended to mostly turn out fine in the end. He did raise his free hand, though, slowly, and laid it on Bucky’s right upper arm, the worn pajama cotton soft under his fingertips, the muscles beneath however tense as a bow. “Buck.”, Steve said, urged, and squeezed the arm lightly. Only when Bucky looked up and met his eyes he continued, swallowing again and concentrating on the wet blue eyes before him, the set lines in the face of his oldest friend that was so very dear to him. Steve knew for a fact that Bucky would’ve made a sly comment on him being a melodramatic twit under normal – maybe ancient - circumstances, which only motivated him more so. “I got you out of there. And I’m glad for it, Buck. I’m glad we got to have the time together, with the Commandos. Even though I’m sure the brass should’ve sent you home, I should’ve maybe sent you home.” Bucky worked his jaw at that, the slight frown between his brows deepening while he pulled his lower lip in a bit. The tears almost fell, but Bucky’s eyes were unblinking. “I-. You-“, Steve wanted to go on, but suddenly the words wouldn’t come and he squeezed the arm again, swallowing convulsively. He still felt a bit sick. “Do you feel like… like that now, these days?”, he changed course, fighting to get the words out. He felt ill. Bucky eyed him, then. He looked confused for a second and it almost seemed as the frown forgot to stay on his face. His eyes were still wet and didn’t want to let the tears fall – he didn’t look particularly taken aback by the question though. Then the frown came back and he seemed mostly exhausted again and a bit apprehensive. He slowly shook his head, with only a small movement. But one side of his mouth tugged up slightly, for a short moment. Steve blinked, warm relief rushing through him, but he worked hard to not let it show – he failed, and he knew it. He pulled his hand back slowly, swallowing again. He knew that Bucky was being honest. They had made a deal, months ago.

“That’s…that’s good. I’m glad. Because I don’t wanna lose you again.”, he said, the last few words only a whisper. Bucky looked away, blinking, but no tears fell. The I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Buck , the I’m so sorry I let that happen to you, and all the other broken pieces of the heart wrenching script they sometimes fell into following, remained unspoken. Too often those words echoed through their apartment, for Bucky not to know them now by heart. Should know. Should believe. Must believe some day. Aside from that, Steve thought he might throw up from sorrow, if he kept talking.

“I won’t leave, Steve. It happened, nothing I can do about it, not really.”, Bucky shrugged, his eyes finding Steve’s again. “Can’t make amends if I’m not. If I’m not here anymore.” His voice sounded stronger than Steve would’ve thought. Determined. No trace of having been close to tears only a moment ago. He threw Steve an echo of a smile, hands letting go of the loose thread and clasping each other in his lap again. Steve wanted to mirror the small smile, but he didn’t quite manage it. Instead, he huffed through his nose, nodded – pretending to be okay with the words that had broken something terrible lose in his chest several moments before. And pretending that the words You don’t have to make amends weren’t on the tip of his tongue. They were for another time, not now. They’ve had that frustrating conversation several times before and Steve knew and even understood why Bucky felt like having to make amends. Didn’t make it any easier or right. Still, he was determined to support Bucky in his fight to feel better, to recover.

“Thank you. For telling me. For staying.”, he replied, now his own voice rough too. “Likewise.”, Bucky said, easily, and threw him a small smile. He then very obviously resisted a yawn and let himself sink deeper into the couch, glancing in the direction of the TV set. “ Wanna watch a rerun of those Kardigans, or however they are called?” Steve blinked, feeling a tiny bit of whiplash but having no control over the grin that crept over his face. “Hell no. The Kardashians are exhausting.” He smirked. "Let’s watch five hours of ‘em. Gonna be a real riot.” “You bet it’ll be.” Steve watched Bucky grab the remote control, pushing the play button. His heart finally slowed down and the nausea dissipated.  He sighed, letting himself sink deeper into the sofa cushions too, watching Bucky for any further signs of upset from the side.

“Watch the damn TV, you sap.”, Bucky huffed.