Good At Falling - A Stucky Story

Maybe you're the reason

It was one of these days.

Steve was sick. And when he was sick, he was thinking about his pathetic existence.

Bucky always told him that he was stronger than he looked like. That he was fighting a fight no one understood. "But I do! I do, because I know you, Steve"
He knew that Steve always was the weak one, physically. Chronically ill with scoliosis, asthma, partially deaf, and heart trouble. But his spirits were strong. He, who knew what it meant to be the weak one, was always fighting the strong people. But only to protect the weak ones.

Unfortunately that caused a lot of bruises and shiners. But his will to protect the weak ones always won.

Today, he couldnt fight for his own life. A few days ago he was running home from the corner shop in the rain. He had hurried to change into dry clothes as soon as he had stepped a foot inside, but his body already had been heating up.

So now his feverish mind went into places, it shouldnt. Steve was religious. He believed every woman and man on earth was there for a reason. Was loved by God.

But he struggled to believe that he was important enough to live. He never talked about it. He just fought for others.

On Sundays though, when he was in church, doing his prayers, he often wondered what the point was. Why was he alive? What had he to give? To leave behind in this world?

Who was there to fight for him?

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Bucky entered.

They hadnt seen each other for the summer. Bucky had gone to visit some relatives with his family and Steve had stayed at Brooklyn with his ma all summer. They had talked on the phone when Steve was at the corner shop sometimes, but not that often because he hadnt enough pennies.

Steve's eyes wandered along Bucky. From his shined shoes, Winifried Barnes always made sure their kids looked at their best, but eventually the shoes would end up dirty, because Bucky never missed out a game of football on the dirty streets or wrestling with the other guys. His eyes wandered up his brown pants, his white shirt and suspenders, the gold brown skin of his strong arms (when they had been back from their trip, Bucky had helped his dad at work to make some extra money for the family; and yeah Steve had the eyes of an artist, he knew Bucky's skin tone was gold brown, what about it?!) The tanned skin made his white teeth and ocean blue eyes glow. He was...

Bucky was glowing, like always. His hair was longer now, so he had to use pomade to slick it back. But some strands had fallen back, framing this angelic face.

Steve bit his bottom lip. Thats not how he wanted to think about Bucky, but it happened sometimes. Bucky would do something and Steve froze and stared at him until Bucky flipped him off and they broke into laughter, Steve tugging this warm feeling in his heart as far away as possible.

The only explanation he had was, that he was an artist. He had studied Bucky since he started drawing him as a little kid. He knew every shape of his face and figure...of course he would say that Bucky was beautiful...the only reasonable explanation.

The friendship with Bucky was keeping him sane from his depressing thoughts. Especially when they were that dark while he was sick.

You could say Steve had two fires burning in his veins: The urge to help the weak ones and being friends with Bucky.

He had read somewhere, in one of the many books he had read during summer while Bucky had been on this family holiday, that "Personal connection creates mental and emotional stimulation, which are automatic mood boosters, while isolation is a mood buster".

When he thought about the two people he loved the most, his ma and Bucky (only in a friendly way, of course), he knew that they were his constants in his life. Two reasons to live for.

But this feeling for Bucky? It was different from what he felt for his ma. He had spent hours to grasp it. And whenever he was trying to think about it, Bucky was the only thing he could think about.

He suddenly was shook by a cough. Steve was struggling for breath, when Bucky rushed to his side and helped him to sit up higher to free his chest from the big, heavy blankets and rubbed his back, whispering with his soothing soft voice "Breathe. Breathe for me, Stevie!"

Steve gasped for air. Bucky took deep breathes aloud, and watched Steve following his lead, taking one deep breath after another. He struggled and coughed again, but he tried it again and again until his body had calmed down and he could fill his lungs with air again without the urge to cough it out.

"Thats better Steve. Thats good." Bucky's voice dripped with relief, but his eyes looked over Steve concerned and alarmed for the next cough attack.

"I am fine. Not dying yet. Thanks Buck!", Steve muttered and layed back into his pillow. He turned his gaze to the ceiling and thanked God.

"Quit saying that, Rogers!", Bucky grunted. Then he slipped off his shoes and hopped onto Steve's bed.

"How are you feeling?"
"Great. Lets mark another day of me not dying on the calender..."
"Well there is someone optimistic. You are a punk, Steve!"
"Jerk!", Steve shot back.

He looked over Bucky again. On his left cheek shimmered a stain of red lipgloss and his shirt partly was not tugged into his pants.

"How was your date?" Steve asked. He watched Bucky intensly so he immediately noticed his cheeks turning reddish and his lips formed a shy smile.

"Good. It was good."
"Quite fruitful, huh?"
"What?"

Steve pointed to his left cheek. "You missed a spot. Or didnt you wash your face after she licked it?"
Whoa what was he so sarcastic for??

Bucky hesitated for a second, then he rubbed the back of his hand on his left cheek until the stain faded.

"She was really nice. We went out for ice cream. You know, I had saved a bit money, so i could take her on a proper date."

Steve just nodded. He didnt know how to answer. What to say.
He just felt this sharp pain in his chest, while Bucky talked about his date.

Maybe he was dying? Maybe feeling like punching Bucky in the face for dating, for daring to tell him about it, maybe him dying was his punishment for feeling that way. Because concentrating on not giving away how hard it was to breathe while Bucky's lit up when he described Steve how it felt to take her hand and to peck her lips, that could not be living.

"Steve? Are you alright?"
He jerked his head back to face Bucky. Has something given him away?
"Yeah. Sorry still feeling a bit dizzy from all the coughing..."

Bucky's eyes looked over him and Steve felt his cheeks getting warm.

"Okay"

And with that both dropped the topic and talked about safe things until it was getting dark and Sarah came back home. She sent Bucky home and Steve had never felt relieved when Bucky left before, but tonight he did.