Work Text:
Ten Years Ago
"I wanna watch the little faggot squirm."
Steve curled into a ball as the older boy kicked him in the stomach.
"Why don't you call for your boyfriend? Huh, twink? Maybe he-"
Steve coughed out a laugh, "I don't have a boyfriend, fellas. Unless one of you are offering."
That landed him another kick to the ribs, definitely leaving a bruise.
"Stop that! Leave him alone!"
Steve heard the sickening sound as someone's fist met another's face. Knuckles hitting hard against the cartilage of a nose. A yelp, then two pairs of feet running away.
A hand reached down to help him up, and Steve sucked in a breath that only aggravated his already throbbing chest. "You need to be more careful around them. They're all kinda dicks."
"I can take care of myself."
"Obviously." The boy smiled at him. "What's your name?"
"Steve."
"Nice to meet you, Steve." And Steve smiled back.
***
I walked into History 101, not quite sure what to expect. All my friends told me this was the easiest class that would fill my history elective, then I could spend the rest of undergrad focusing on my engineering classes. I didn't know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't seeing the most beautiful person I've ever seen. Perfectly sculpted hair, sky blue eyes, and cheekbones that could slice a plum in two. Feeling a strange burst of confidence, I walked over to where he was sitting.
"Hey," I said, "is anyone sitting here?"
The guy looked up, and his face went through a few different emotions before settling on a neutral one. "Sure."
And then he went back to his notes he was setting up on his laptop.
I sat down, a little miffed at his rudeness. Or maybe he's just shy. Or introverted, I told myself.
"My name is James."
He didn't look up, instead spun his stylus a few times, keeping his eyes forward. "Steve."
"Nice to meet you, Steve."
His stylus stopped, and he dug his nails into his palm. "Yeah." He looked into my eyes, searching for something that apparently wasn't there. Steve just pressed his lips together and turned to watch the professor come into the room.
What the hell was that?
***
Natasha leaned back on my bed, making a wide gesture with her arm that really meant nothing to me. "You're saying this guy just brushed you off? What a jerk."
T'Challa walked back to his own bed, smirking at me. "Well, not everyone likes you, James."
I threw a drink at my roommate, and he caught it easily. "I said I was sorry, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." He frowned. "Did you do something to him?"
"I don't even know him. I just asked to sit by him and wanted to know his name."
Clint bounced onto my bed, leaving me no room between him and Nat. "That was too much, I guess."
"No one asked you, Clint." I leaned on my desk, with a sigh. "I just don't get what was wrong. What could I have done to him?"
"It probably had nothing to do with you," T'Challa said. "He was probably just having a rough day."
"Yeah, probably." I shook my head. "That's enough of this. I heard there was free food down at the student center today. Who-"
Clint was already at the door with his bag over his shoulder. "You had me at 'free'. Let's go."
***
"Bucky, you didn't tell us this was a club fair."
"Well, in my defense, I didn't know." I smiled. "But we can still get some food. Look at some clubs. Laugh about the weird ones once we're far enough away."
Clint was already walking toward the table of food. "I'm really surprised you guys have been here two years without joining any clubs. I'm part of the archery and deaf/hard-of-hearing clubs."
Nat threw her arm over his shoulder and took a chip from his plate. "Aw, perfect Clint getting the full college experience."
"You could probably find something if you just looked."
Before this turned into a lovers' quarrel, I interrupted, "Let's do that then. We can find us some clubs to join, Nat."
She looked to Clint, who just smiled in return. "Fine," she huffed in defeat. "I guess we can look."
We wandered around for a bit before Natasha was distracted by the ballet club. With Nat's attention all on the booth and Clint's attention all on Nat, I continued through the center. Originally, I was headed for the aerospace engineering club, but something else caught my eye along the way. Or, really, someone else.
"Steve, hey."
The blond turned from the painting he was hanging up behind him. It seemed the MCU Artist Association wasn't as put together as the other clubs. Or maybe they were just late. Once he saw me, his smile thinned into something so fake, I couldn't pretend there wasn't contempt behind it. "James."
"I didn't know you're an artist."
"I'm sure you don't know lots about me." He bent down under the table to set out more flyers. "If you're just here to chat, I have a lot to do." I reached out to stop him from turning away, and his eyes hardened into a steely blue. "Don't touch me."
"Sorry," I said, taking my hand from his wrist. "Wait, Steve, can we just talk for a second?"
"Talking wasn't something you wanted to do before."
"What? Did I do something to you that I don't know about?" I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry."
Steve frowned, setting down a few buttons. "Do you not remember me?"
"No, should I?"
He just shook his head and laughed. But it wasn't a laugh that had any joy or amusement. There was pain behind the sound.
"I'm sorry, Steve. Can I at least know what happened?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. You obviously forgot about it, so I guess I should too."
"I-"
"There you are, Bucky. We've been looking all over for you. I saw someone with a flyer for the MMA club, and I think we should both join."
"Figures," Steve mumbled under his breath. I almost didn't hear him, but he definitely said it. I glanced back at Steve, this guy that I knew nothing about but I had apparently hurt very badly. He was already back to work, looking anywhere but at me.
***
The next history class, I sat beside Steve again, hoping to clear the air between us. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know how I could fix it.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Because I want to know how I know you. I want to know what I did to you."
"Fine." There was so much malice in his voice. Just a bit more and it could cut through steel all on its own.
"Do you want to get coffee after class? I'm not sure if you're busy, but I'm-"
"That's fine." And he turned back to face the front of the room.
I couldn't focus the rest of class, not knowing I'd be getting to the bottom of this mystery. It'd only been two days, but it was driving me insane. Finally, the professor ended lecture, and I looked at Steve expectantly.
He was gathering a few notebooks and sketchbooks. "Let's go, I guess."
I smiled, but he didn't return the gesture. Once we got to the little coffee shop in the dining center, we ordered and sat at one of the booths. "So when did we know each other?"
"Fifth grade. Beginning of sixth grade."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Really, Steve? Fifth grade? You really expect me to remember you from fifth grade? Why are you still holding grudges from elementary school?"
"I was bullied, practically to high school." I must have looked shocked because Steve nodded. "I wasn't always 6'2". I used to be a skinny little kid who didn't know when to shut his mouth."
"I'm sorry, Steve."
He just rolled his eyes at that. "Well, I had the biggest crush on this one guy, which didn't exactly help my situation. Of course, everyone loved that they could now make fun of me for being a pathetic fag too. And when he found out," he just looked at me, expecting me to be able to fill in the rest of those blanks in his story.
"I- Did I-"
"No, I didn't have a crush on you, James. You were the one to convince him to stop spending time with me. You didn't want people to get the wrong idea about him. God forbid anyone be gay."
I reached for his hand, almost out of instinct. He jerked away from me before I even registered what was happening. "Sorry, I-"
"What is wrong with you?" I couldn't look at Steve anymore, not with all that hatred reading so clearly on his face. "You and your stupid friend made my life hell, and now you want to be all friendly? Now you want to hold my hand and tell me you're sorry? No, you don't get to do that, James."
"Steve, I-"
"No, if you wanted to say something, it should've been all those years ago when your friend felt the need to beat me up every day. You should've said something before he kicked me until he broke my ribs. You should've said something before he decided all he wanted was to watch the little faggot squirm. It's far too late now."
And in that moment, I remembered him. I remembered the little kid Dum Dum picked on just because he was an easy target, just because he was bored, just because. And I didn't stop him. I never stopped him. I just went along with Dum Dum, laughing when I was supposed to, making comments when I was supposed to, and I'm ashamed to say I hit him when I was supposed to. When I moved in middle school, I tried to forget all about the little guy I helped torment. I guess I did a really good job at forgetting.
"Steve, I'm so sorry. I- I don't know how to explain. I don't know how to make it up to you."
"Do you really think you can? James, I want nothing to do with you."
I nodded, not sure what else to say to him. "Okay, I completely understand. I- I'll sit somewhere else next history class."
"Good." And Steve walked away before I could say anything else. Not that I would know what to say if I had the chance.
I could feel everyone staring at me when I pressed my hand to my mouth, hot tears hitting my cheeks before I could process my feelings. How could I do that to Steve? How could I do that to anyone? I'm a terrible person. An awful, terrible person who deserves all of this. I deserve all this pain and guilt because I'm the reason an amazing, kind, beautiful person had a hellish childhood. I did this to him. And there's nothing I can do to fix it.