Who Am I? » [Stucky]

23. You Should Have Told Me

Still being battered by the cruel thoughts caught in his mind like flies entangled in a sticky gossamer spiderweb, Steve got up early and ventured out into the city.

Steve had wrapped himself up in a thick winter coat over a jacket and long sleeve shirt in some desperate, failing, attempt to keep his shuddering frozen body warm, but still his teeth chattered in his skull, his nose ran and his eyes watered at the bitter wind that howled as it rattled through the city.

He took a relaxing trip down to the park he had been at where he saw Stark the other day; knowing he could find some peace and quiet in the suspended motionless silence.

When he intruded upon the undisturbed green space he saw somebody clutching their cold body, attempting to sleep on a damp and uncomfortable rickety bench in the park. Naturally Steve was concerned and wandered over cautiously, approaching the homeless man, drawn to the troubled person.

The man's shoulders were quaking as he trembled in the wind, at every gust he would seize up tighter like a hedgehog curling up into a ball to hibernate for the winter. He looked pitiful, thin and bony and had his knees tucked up to his chest to try and keep himself warmer, like a child in a draughty house.

Steve slipped off his warm padded coat kindly and jogged briskly across the park. The coat meant nothing to him, but could save a simple stranger comfort and save him from dying of exposure. He would simply get another.

He lifted up the coat like he was shaking out a duvet and let it fall over the shivering frail body shaking on the bench.

As soon as the fabric covered his body he clutched it closer, scrunching it in a metal fist and turned to face Steve.

"Thank you..." He whispered scratchily with a dry throat. That's when he clocked the face of the owner of the coat and the owner of the coat recognised the hobo.

"Bucky..?" Steve's heart shattered into a million tiny pieces and his stomach shrunk and twisted. He felt his world come tumbling down around him, crumbling, falling and crashing down in large chunks.

"Steve?" He replied hoarsely, contorting his back and straining his aching neck to look at him.

"What are you doing here?!" He exclaimed in dumbfounded horror, his eyes welling up at the ill and beaten up sight before him. Scars were dotted about Bucky's white face and his body had become a sack of bones, excluding the metal arm that was connected to his shoulder which looked aged and tarnished.

That's when the realisation stroke him, and hard. He had been sleeping rough all this time. Steve had never thought to have ask about where Bucky had been when he wasn't with him before. He had assumed that he was looking after himself, taking care and eating or staying somewhere.

He had let Bucky down. He had let him down again. He had left Bucky to fend for himself. Bucky never have let Steve suffer like that and that and that made him sick to his core with guilt.

Bucky's heavy and dull blue eyes looked only at the floor with guilt. He couldn't say the words to Steve. He couldn't let Steve know that he thought he was a burden and didn't want to tell Steve because he didn't want to worry him or seem needy. He was surviving on his own. Just.

"Have you been homeless... All this time?" Steve was trying hardily to contain the sobs caught up in his tightening throat, tying his tongue and restricting his stiff chest.

Bucky shut his weighted eyes, unable to look at Steve. He nodded. Even without looking he could tell that Steve was upset and probably angry too. He didn't want to see the disappointment that would inevitably be on his face. He wouldn't blame Steve for being cross.