Chapter Text
It was hot today, not that you could feel it, but the bright sun and sweaty bodies on the street told you so. You’re sight and hearing being the only senses that still worked; you’ve learned to depend on them as you walked around, collecting information to feel connected to the world. You walk in the middle of the street, cars flowing right through you. It’s easier this way, you can see better. Too many people crowd the sidewalks, and it gets annoying as you’re walked through hundreds of times in a single day. It makes you feel more like what you are.
Nothing.
You’re like the wind. No, the wind makes a difference. The wind can be felt; it has a force, a purpose. You have none of that. You’re a consciousness without a body, a spectator. Nothing more.
The city is loud; many people go unnoticed by one another, everyone lives in their bubble of importance, leaving everything else out. It’s why you’ve stayed here for so long. You fit here. People pass by one another all the time here. The only difference is they pass through you.
Sleeping didn’t come easy. It didn’t come at all. You’ve tried many times. Not that you ever get tired. It just never felt right. It never worked. So, you wandered the city, people watching. Every day you’d pick a new person and follow them the entire day, learning what you could about them. Imagining that just for one day, you had their life. It was fascinating what one person could do in a day. It’s even more interesting what they do when they’re alone.
It was hot, but the sun had just fully come out. You’d yet to pick anyone to follow; no one’s grabbed your eye. You move from the street over to the sidewalk and sit. It takes a minute, but you get used to the wave of legs moving through you.
There’s a hot dog cart next to you. It’s getting a lot of business. A lot more than it should be since you’ve seen this cart about six times now, and the guy working it probably never washes his hands, nor does he wear gloves.
You sit there, trying to remember what hot dogs taste like. For some reason, you can’t picture it. Maybe it’s your lack of smell and taste like you’re not even allowed to imagine it anymore.
There’s a small break in the legs passing through you. Probably a light down the corner of the sidewalk stopping the flow of pedestrians. You wait a few seconds. It’s only usually ever that long. When it does start back up, the standard stampede of legs passes through you, but something catches your eyes, something that shines in the sunlight. At this level, you’d expect it to be a belt or a wristwatch. But it was so bright your eyes tracked the movement until you found the cause. That was no watch. That was a metal hand.
Someone’s entire hand was metal. Hell yeah, you’ve found your guy. You stand quickly, running through people until you are right behind the man. His hair is barely shoulder-length, dark. He stands tall, broad shoulders, big arms unless there’s a lot of fluff in that leather jacket, which you don’t think there is. He wears a baseball cap, and he’s got a phone to his ear. You match his pace, standing just behind him, step by step.
“No, I told you already, I’m fine. - I’m about to head back now. - Yes, I’m just stopping somewhere really quickly first.” The man says, his voice is pleasant, you think, some people have annoying voices or loud voices, they project naturally sometimes, and you find yourself not being able to stand it more than not.
Your patience might just be wearing thin for the fact that you can’t have a conversation with anyone. You’re constantly forced to listen, and if you’re going to listen, then they better at least have a pleasant voice, dammit.
His voice is lovely, despite the fact he sounds tired and uninterested in the conversation he’s having. The city’s too loud for you to hear the other side of the call, even when you’re standing as close as possible without going through the man.
_
Bucky
Bucky’s day had been good so far. It’s the first birthday he’s had a chance to celebrate in the last seventy years. The only problem is he’s not sure how exactly to spend it. How do people spend their birthdays now? He’s sure it hasn’t changed that much over time. People probably spend time with their friends and family.
Bucky’s fresh out of family, and he’s not exactly sure he can call the Avengers friends just yet. Steve had to go on a last-minute mission and was gone before Bucky woke up. But Bucky never has been all that sentimental about birthdays. Not as much as Steve was, which is why he was surprised Steve didn’t push the mission off to someone else.
“I’m really sorry. I hate missing birthdays.”
“I know Steve, well, news flash you’ve missed about seventy of them, so have I honestly.” He laughs. “We can do something when you get back, it’s just a few days.”
“Yeah, definitely. We can get food and go to the movies.”
“You tryin’ to take me on a date or celebrate my birthday?”
“We can do whatever you want to do.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t you got a mission to start?”
“I’m actually about to get off the quinjet. I’ll call you when the missions over. Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Not even Sam.”
Bucky laughs loudly.
“Not even Sam, I swear. Even if he annoys me.”
“Okay, I’m going now, see you soon. Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks. Bye Stevie.”
Bucky hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. He wonders what he’s going to do with his day—maybe going down to the gym. Or check out that pool on the fifth floor he’s heard about. He walks past a corner store and smiles. Maybe he can get the team to do a movie night with him or something; they are always down for something like that.
He goes into a convenience store and grabs some candy because he’s addicted to those damn peach rings, and he can’t help himself.
Yet as he walks around the store, there’s the building sense of something wrong. Yet he can’t put his finger on it. He’s had feelings like this before. It’s very similar to being watched. He’s actually been followed around New Your once or twice, but now it’s mostly by fans of the Avengers instead of old Hydra agents who want to kill him.
He looks around the store, beside him and the clerk, an old lady, is looking at the milk expiration dates. He’s pretty sure she’s not a fan. Even if she is, it wouldn’t be making his hackles rise like this.
There’s something like a breath on the back of his neck. He looks over his shoulder twice before he tells himself to ignore it.
He hails a taxi and heads home once he pays for the candy. He’s going up the elevator to his floor when he gets the feeling again. It’s a lot stronger now. There’s a warmth radiating from next to him. In the enclosed space, he can focus on it, but there was no one there. It was so strange though, had he not been looking, he would have sworn someone was standing right next to him.
The elevator doors open to his floor, and his attention is ripped from the feeling when a wave of voices yells out at him.
“Surprise!”
Bucky’s eyes go wide when they land on Steve standing right in front,
“You son of a bitch!” He yells, stepping out of the elevator pulling Steve into a hug.
“I got you, didn’t I?”
“For the first time ever!” The rest of the Avengers laugh.
_
Steve
Steve was horrible at throwing surprise parties. Not for lack of trying either. He’s been trying to throw one for Bucky since they were eight. Something always went wrong. Namely, Steve was horrible at keeping it a secret. But after all these years and a lot of help from the rest of the Avengers, he finally did it. All it took was him planning it as if it was a mission to save the world.
But it worked. So, don’t question the method. Getting Bucky to leave the tower, or at least his floor was the hard part. He had to do it on his own if he’d gone with anyone. He would have realized they were stalling for time. Decorating Bucky’s floor and bringing all the food in was easy. Calling him had been the perfect touch to it all.
Everyone managed to make it; Bruce, Tony, Pepper, Rhody, Natasha, Sam, Thor, Jane, Clint, Coulson, Vision, and Wanda.
The party was a lot of fun. Which yeah, Steve was nervous about the entire time. But it was great, everyone ate, drank, played cards, and watched movies. There was a roast session where everyone decided to make fun of each other. After a while, the party died down, and most of everyone left. The few who stayed huddled in the kitchen eating the last of the pizza and cake.
He was leaned over his piece when he noticed the girl in the Livingroom. She was sitting on the couch, all by herself, silently picking at her shirt. She’d come in with Bucky. He remembers that. Everyone had jumped him and made him blow out the candles while they sang. Somehow, she went unnoticed by him for the rest of the party. She was around. He knows that, seeing her face a few times. But she didn’t play any of the games or talk to anyone, not that he saw at least. She might be introverted. But something about her screams sadness. So, he takes his slice and goes over to the couch sitting next to her. He leaves an entire space between them, just in case she just wanted to be left alone.
_
You
The party was excellent, they sang, they danced, they ate and laughed. This was the first surprise party you’d witnessed. Everyone seemed to like each other and knew how to have a good time, that’s for sure. Sadly, the more fun they had, the more alone you felt. People didn’t turn to you for a dance, and they didn’t hand you a slice of cake. They didn’t make fun of some random thing you’ve done in the past. You were nothing, invisible.
Dead.
Instead of some random afterlife, you begin to realize; this must be your hell.
If only you could remember what you’d done in life to deserve it.
You separate yourself from the group and sit alone in the living room. Not ready to stop following them yet, but you just needed a minute to pretend you were real and not feel so empty. You don’t feel the passage of time anymore. So, you don’t know how long it is before Steve- at least you think that’s his name- makes his way over to the living room and sits on the couch. You’re thankful he chose the other side and didn’t sit on you. That always bums you out.
It’s a few moments of silence before he speaks.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name, are you a friend of Bucky’s?”
You furrow your eyebrows because the rest of the party is in the kitchen or already left. You turn to Steve, wanting to see if maybe he’s on his phone. You find his eyes locked on yours, and you pause. He must be looking at someone behind you, but you don’t feel invisible for a moment.
His eyes never turn. There’s never a second part of the conversation coming from behind. His eyebrows lift in question like he’s still waiting for an answer, and you laugh nervously, unable to tear your eyes from his gaze.
“Are you talking to me?” You don’t expect an answer, but it’s nice sometimes to pretend that people can hear you, and you can’t help it with this opportunity.
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I am.”
The smile drops from your face so quickly it almost hurts. But you don’t feel pain anymore either, so it doesn’t matter. You scoot back on the couch, moving your body, and his eyes follow all of your movements. Your heart beats quickly, and you’re sure your skin would be crawling if you were alive.
You want to believe it, but it’s been too long for you not to question it still, you lean into him, just a little, and you whisper.
“Can you see me?”
“Yes.”