Who Am I? » [Stucky]

37. Recovery

There was a raging storm that night; a blustering thundering storm. The skies had turned deep black with the night and storm and the heavens flickered with fractal light as bolts of lightning danced across the sky in elongated forked lines, shooting about in amongst the clouds. The whole building shuddered as the rumble of thunder resounded through the capacious sky, rattling the whole city with its deep roar as it tore through the place. The sound travelled down the streets, through every alley, every nook and cranny and stretched across every inch of the town – calling for their attention with its harsh growl.

The window was battered with heavy pebble sized droplets of rain, smashing into the glass like a shower of meteorites. Everything was soaking and the air was cool. Raindrops raced down his window, meandering their way down the glass and making the world outside into nothing more than a light filled, colourful haze.

The fierce bright light of the flashing lightning seeped in between the blinds in Steve’s room, their crackling sound echoing in the night as they tore the stratosphere apart.

Steve sobbed relentlessly into his pillow, lying on his front, crying loudly, unable to hold it in anymore. There was no one he had to be strong for; he was sick of being strong for people. He was sick of being Captain America. Everyone he got close to he always lost eventually. Yes, he had got Bucky back, and that was a miracle and a blessing and he was eternally thankful, but in the end he always lost everyone. He feared that it wouldn’t be long until Bucky came to harm because of him anymore.

He cuddled another pillow to his jerking chest and held it tight. He was so alone. He was always so alone.

He wept deep into the early hours of the morning until he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and dropped off on his own accord, emotionally exhausted. The storm died down as he went to sleep.

The next morning when he woke up the sun was had returned to its throne in the sky, shining bright and proud, reigning above with its pleasant rays. Birds sung merrily and chirped their appreciation and flew about skittishly in the air outside his window. Everything was so peaceful and contented and the world was still turning. The air was sweet with the smell of the honeysuckle that grew in his neighbour’s window box and the sky was the purest blue.

He wanted to scream at the world, to tell it to go away, to tell it to stop doing everything. Why was everyone just going about as if nothing had happened? He wanted to stop everything, to put everything on hold, to lock himself away. Everyone was so pleased with the day, yet he couldn’t be more repulsed. The sunlight was offensive. The world was offensive.

He buried his head between two smothering heavy pillows and wrapped himself up securely in the thin summer sheets he had been lying leisurely in the whole night.

There was a tiny tap at his door, two tentative knocks.

“Steve,” the indistinct intimidated voice whimpered.

There was a faint sound as the door was pushed open.

“Leave me alone,” Steve grunted, sticking an arm out of his wrapped up bundle just to pull the covers more tightly over himself.

“Steve, if there’s something on your mind-“

“Just go away, Bucky,” Steve dismissed him with a remorseless selfish glare from beneath the pillows, anger burning in his spritely blue eyes.

Steve barely spoke during the day. He would occasionally speak over breakfast, lunch and dinner. In between, whenever Bucky tried to make conversation Steve would just give him dismissive looks and one word replies. Steve became distant quite quickly. He was pretty much silent for about a week. He was silenced by his inner turmoil; none of which showed on the surface – On Steve’s emotionless blank face, but Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what was going on.