Who Am I? » [Stucky]

18. A Counsellor

The next day Steve awoke with a severe banging headache like a hangover, except without the alcohol. It was a hangover from all of the crying and he felt like bulbous church bells were ringing in his ears and his forehead was throbbing. It had been a long long time since Steve had cried that much; the last time he could recall tears falling at such a pace was the day Bucky died. That evening he had attempted to drink himself into oblivion to no avail - discovering that the super-serum prevented him from getting even slightly drunk and sitting on the bed, delirious from lack of sleep and from post-trauma, with hurtful torrents of tormenting images repeating in his mind over and over like a stuck record.

He needed to get himself out of the god-forsaken house, escape from the restrictive claustrophobic prison walls of his own home. He felt like he was sickeningly suffocating from being cooped up in the shrinking space. He felt the need to purge himself of his dreary fatigue by bathing in the fresh air, and he did.

He got dressed unreasonably early, right at the crack of dawn as the birdsong swept through the morning air playfully and the glorious fiery sun was just rising on the horizon, a glowing orb of flame seizing control of the heavens, painting them red and orange like a watercolour painting.

He snatched his flimsy A4 sketch pad from his bedside drawer along with the ancient dusty pencil set with a half used eraser and tarnished sharpener. It had been one from back in his day. He had bought the vintage pencil set on some website called 'eBay', Tony had shown it to him.

The air was still icy cool and the city still shadowed by the remnants of night and he sneaked out into the city, sneaking up on it like the day snuck up on the night.

He aimlessly walked until he came across a small peaceful park with an orchard full of plush green leaved trees and a colourful carnival of flower beds overflowing with plants and a fountain sat at a crossroad between stony gravel paths, hissing quietly as it drizzled and sprayed out a small steady stream.

He took his place on a damp wooden bench beneath an overbearing tree where it was tranquil and he was shadowed by the monolithic ode to nature; the oak stood high above with its long boughs and thick thatch of leaves. He was concealed by the darkness and hid away.

He opened up the archaic box with a begrudging creak of the hinges and flipped open the A4 pad with a flutter of pages, overturning loose sheets and other sides, ignoring all of his previous drawings in search of space. He came to a crisp clean white textured page, begging to be touched like a fluffy patch of snow that hadn't been stepped in yet.

Steve had wanted to continue going to art school when his mum had followed his dad to the grave, but that had become more than a bit tricky with the sudden realistic task of having the rent to pay, having to look after himself and find a job. Lucky Bucky was there for him; he had no idea where he might be right now if it weren't for that wonderful selfless man. He smiled to himself alone in the park. He was sure that deep down there was still a chance to restore Bucky to his former glory; Natasha had still been in there, surely there was a chance for him too? He thought it would be better to live in ardent hope than to live in despairing scepticism.

Steve put the soft but sturdy dark tip of the 2B pencil to the untainted page, unsure of quite what to draw but he knew the pencil would willingly move itself when it was ready. Naturally, the first thing that came to his head was Bucky, and Bucky he drew. He didn't need to see the man before him to draw, he had stared at him endlessly all of his life. He had seen him evolve into the man he was today.

He started with the sketchy outline shape of Bucky's face: his heavy and well defined jawline and drew a light line to guide himself. He drew in Bucky's determined almost ferocious young eyes, making sure to try and include the mischievous cocky twinkle which lingered there. He drew in Bucky's button nose and the elegant curved lips to match; Bucky had a thin top lip with a lazily arched Cupid's bow and a full and plump bottom lip.