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Steve slowly pushes open the door to Bucky’s room, letting it swing open steadily, not risking startling his friend. He stepped through the doorframe and scanned the large room, similar to the other allocated rooms in the tower; large un-opening window, air-conditioning, cream walls, black furniture with bits of silver for handles and radiators; simple yet classic, speciality of Stark Tower. However a quick turn of his head was enough to scan the room and confirm to Steve that Bucky wasn’t there.
Stood inside the room, the sound of running water could be heard in the bathroom, sound of pressurised water in the shower. If Bucky hadn’t been gone for well over half an hour, Steve would have left him to it, however under the current circumstances he walked over to the door of the en suite, which was left slightly ajar. Pausing in a position which meant he couldn’t see through the small crack, the blonde called out gently to his friend,
“Buck?” he said calmly, in a tone which suggested he was trying to discern his location despite the fact he knew his friend was on the other side of the door.
The water kept running, large droplets drumming against the tiles under the high pressure of the shower head. The humid warmth of the bathroom began to wash over Steve as a testament to how long it had been running, steam clouding through the door and up into the cool air of the bedroom. Steve felt the moisture on his face and licked his lips. There was no reply, he had expected as much, so he tried again.
“Bucky it’s me; Steve” he said, pausing again, giving his friend a chance to reply, despite knowing he would not. The shower kept running, the same pattering rhythm you hear during a monsoon, familiar rain, crashing against the same unmoving surface.
Steve inhaled deeply through his nose as he shut his eyes, grateful for the door at this point; so that Bucky couldn’t see him gathering what remained of his mental strength. Some days he felt he couldn’t go on with this anymore; but he would do it anyway his feet would take him after his friend because Bucky was his world; his fixed point, the only thing which made him feel sane after waking up from that ice. People told Steve it was killing him; this whole routine, the exhausting process; repetition of continually trying to help Bucky that yielded no results.
Last month Tony clapped his hand down on Steve’s shoulder and said it was a lost cause. He could never throw Bucky away, he gave his life to save Steve; how could he owe Bucky any less. He had never quit a righteous cause his entire life, he couldn’t lose his partner now; he had previously thought not ever. Bucky’s return was a blessing and a curse, he was here now, Steve would never let him go; but each day he remembered how long he’d left him; how he’d never searched for him; how he’d given up on Bucky the day he fell from that train.
He wrapped his fingers around the warm silver handle of the bathroom door;
“Buck, I’m coming in, ok?” he stated calmly as he could, pausing, though once again knowing there would be no reply, he gave a few more seconds before pulling the door open, a cloud of steam temporarily blinding his view. He squinted and inhaled deeply, the humid air racing through his lungs as he stepped from the carpet onto the wet slippery tiles. The bathroom was fitted with a large sink, a bath and a walk-in shower, which had a curtain pulled across shutting off Bucky from view. Slowly Steve padded over to the shower, brow already beginning to have creased in worry for his friend, before he took hold of the damp curtain and dragged it smoothly to the side.
Letting go of the curtain, revealing the other man, naked and exposed to the stream of water from the showerhead, hitting Bucky on his right shoulder, running streams down his lean muscular form. Tired eyes instantly boring into Steve’s own, a weary glare, knowing the blonde would always come for him. There were bags under Bucky’s eyes, dark and purple giving the illusion his eyes had sunk back into his skull. His lips were swollen and red in the heat of the shower, water trickling down his face, running from his dripping hair. Knotted hair, and the seemingly ever present stubble on his chin, he wouldn’t shave. Only on rare occasions would he let Steve do it, willing to go days, uncaring about his appearance.
He said nothing, he just stared at him wordlessly, the same sullen look on his face Steve was so used to seeing now. It was as if Bucky was permanently frozen in this limbo, not quite himself, not quite the Winter Soldier and nothing in between; he had yet to find the balance and without it he was drowning.
“Oh Buck” his voice breaking slightly as he stepped under the shower, his shirt slowly becoming drenched under the rapid spray of water. Bucky watched as his friend placed hands on both his shoulders, gently pushing his back against the wall, turning his friend to face him square on, droplets of water falling on them both. Steve looks in his friends eyes a few moments longer before hanging his head, spray dampening the back of his hair as the stream of water falls between the two of them.
Steve stares down at the ground beneath the steam, at both of their feet in the water. He slowly moves his hands, lower, to the others waist, he can feel Bucky’s tired empty eyes on him so he looks back up. He’s almost shocked to find his friend is tearing up, he looks like he’s just been shot in the stomach. His eyes creasing in sadness;
“I’m so sorry Steve” he breathes hurriedly, choking a little at the back of his throat, taking a shaky breath of air, swallowing it down with a dry mouth.
“I’m so sorry” he repeats and Steve smiles back, but they both know its empty, pulling Bucky’s soaking body flush against his own and wrapping large arms around him, as the water keeps falling. Moments pass, as the water now drips through Steve’s hair soaking him to the bone through his clothes, a metal arm lifts itself to press a hand to Steve’s chest; not returning the embrace, not pushing him away either; a warning to Steve to keep his distance. Over the loud spray coming from the shower head and the droplets hitting the hard floor, Bucky keeps whispering in his ear; repeated apologies.
Steve, please forgive me.