Chapter Text
Their little band was formed in a rather strange way.
None was even in the music club or anything. Hell, they weren’t even in the same major.
Bob and Yelena were somehow housemates right at the start of Bob’s sophomore year. Natasha—Yelena’s older sister—found Bob’s whining on his social media account asking for a cheap place to rent after getting an Irish goodbye from his old flatmate and offered him one, in exchange he had to be Yelena’s friend.
At first, it was all an act because Bob didn’t really believe in making super close friends in college. Let’s be honest, no one would even want to get close to him. He was, what, a loser—a sore one, even. And well, Yelena was… rather intimidating for a freshman at first. It wasn’t because of her personality. She just looked a bit too cool that Bob thought she was out of his league.
He had no league.
But when Yelena came back after winter break, this time with a guitar case slung on her back, asking if he knew any drummer that was down to sub for a performance, Bob knew there might be a chance they would become close friends.
It first started as a joke, when Bob said that they should find some other people to make their own silly band. He suggested using Thunderbolts as their name, and got a pillow in the face from Yelena’s side of the couch, but somehow they still took it seriously. Well, mostly after Yelena randomly announced that she found them a guitarist named Ava, who looked way far scarier than how he had imagined her to be. She turned out to be a nice—though a bit gruffed—person, and she was the same age as him, which made their conversation flow smoothly most of the time (gladly).
Their first bassist was Bucky Barnes, a grumpy guy that Yelena said was Natasha’s best friend's boyfriend. He was good and cool and he had styles as well, but they only got to play together for more than half a year before Bucky had to quit to focus on finishing his course. Before he officially left though, he told them he knew someone that could replace him.
“A junior in Steve’s major. Heard that he was a star in the swimming team, and apparently he played bass too. Uh,” Bucky scrolled through his phone then played an audio file and only continued speaking after hearing Yelena and Ava’s satisfied hums. “He was in a band earlier this year but I heard they broke off recently.”
“Really? Do you know why?” Ava tilted her head as she squinted at the band’s name showing on the phone screen. “Murmur Season? Do these fuckers write shoegaze music or what?”
“You heard what they play.” To that Bucky received an eye roll from Ava, which he ignored completely. “There was a fight. This bassist bastard broke the lead singer’s nose. No other bands took him in after that incident.”
Bob let out an empathetic ouch, just to show how much it would hurt his ego had it been him instead of whoever the hell that bassist Bucky was talking about. Got it. They were low and desperate enough to think of inviting a potential asshole with possible anger issues into their weird little band.
“Why are you so sure he’d join us?” Yelena asked distractedly while tuning her guitar.
“Because he fawns over me, blondie. And Steve too. He loves Steve for being a beast swimmer and me for being a god-like bassist.”
Bob thought he heard Ava fake a gag.
The whole thing seemed unsure to Bob. He wasn’t the best at dealing with changes, let alone abrupt changes like this—but he couldn’t force Bucky to stay with them forever. He was sure the older man had other things on his plate and this whole band thing was just a hobby.
So he gave it the benefit of doubt—and their first encounter, Bob and the bastard bassist’s, somehow proved to him that he wasn’t really wrong.
They met outside of Yelena’s classroom, both waiting for her. He must have gotten a message from her as well because as soon as Bob arrived, this giant human form of an angry golden retriever was already there, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
Bob didn’t even bat an eye at him at first, assuming that he was also just waiting for someone. He looked like some pretentious jock who would stand outside of his girlfriend’s class just to surprise her. He silently hoped that girlfriend wasn’t Yelena because this tall hunk of blonde hair seemed shady as hell, so it might have been pretty obvious how his heart sank when that man glanced at his texts (privacy violation, really) and just asked, like they were old friends.
“Yelena’s friend?”
“How- how do you know her?” Bob turned off his phone and eyed the other man suspiciously.
He only got a shrug as an answer at first before the other man fumbled for his phone and showed Bob the texts. Yelena’s texts.
Yelena (01:31 A.M.):
hey, walker. its yelena, buckys friend. ur class ends at 10am right?? mine ends at 11 so can u wait outside for me and i’ll take u to our practice
the rooms c302
me (06:05 A.M.):
Bet.
Yelena (08:10 A.M.):
ur such a slow and dry replier
my housemates likely to wait for me as well so u will have someone to talk to if ur bored
his names bob. brunet, eyes like bambi, a bit confused
Bob squinted to read the last few messages. First, he didn’t think he looked like Bambi one bit. Second, why was she talking to this man like they were close? That was so weird.
“Figured the Bambi looking man she talked about was you. No one else looks this slow.”
Okay, rude.
If they hadn’t just met, or if he wasn’t someone Yelena wanted Bob to meet, Bob might have just punched him right in the face like what this man—Walker—had done to his former bandmate. Slow? Bob was one of the most brilliant students in his classes. How dare he?
He didn’t have a chance to throw a snarky retort into Walker’s face as Yelena yanked open the door behind them. Her face lit up the moment she saw both.
“You do know you’re not allowed to smoke inside right?” She pointed at the cigarette Walker was holding, a faint smirk on her face.
“Force of habit.” He grunted but put it back in the pack and hid it in his jacket’s inner pocket as Professor Winston left the classroom.
Smart.
No. Did he just think Walker was smart? He couldn’t think of someone who just called him slow as smart.
“Where are we going?” Walker’s voice rang again, pulling Bob away from his thoughts.
Yelena shrugged, her hand gestured distractedly before just signaling him to follow as she wrapped her arm around Bob’s shoulders and yanked him forward with her. Walker scoffed but followed anyway. Not for long though, as the older man stopped them right before they stepped out of the gate, asking whether they actually planned to walk in a tone that suggested he thought they might be a bit out of mind.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” Yelena asked with an arched eyebrow.
“In this weather? For fuck’s sake—I have a car. I can drive you two to wherever the hell you’re planning to take me to.”
That explained why Yelena and Bob were sitting in Walker’s car’s backseat just now, with Yelena chilling like she was on a vacation while Bob sat as if he had a gun to his head. He stared at Walker, who was humming to the tune of whatever was playing on the speaker. Avi Kaplan, Bob recognized.
“So…”
“Second right turn after the traffic light. Two more blocks then you turn left and yadda, there we are.” Yelena said distractedly as she filmed her nails. “Can you play Sabrina Carpenter?”
“Who the hell is that? I don’t like pop.”
Bob didn’t even bother hiding his chuckle as he saw Yelena purse her lips and mumble Straight white man under her breath.
“I can hear you, you know.” Walker glared at her through the rear view mirror before throwing his phone back at them, not even caring whether it dropped on the floor or anyone’s lap. Explained why the screen looked like it’d been through battles.
“What?”
“Play whatever you want. I’m not a fucking DJ. There’s no password.”
“Aren’t you scared someone might steal your phone?” Bob asked, because literally, who even left their phone with no password like that?
Walker only snorted, as if Bob’s question wasn’t even worth answering.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Bob saw Yelena taking about fifty stupid selfies before finally picking a song. Walker probably would regret ever letting her take over his phone, but it wasn’t Bob’s business. Served him right for calling Bob slow.
It took them faster than usual to arrive at Yelena and Bob’s place—thanks to Walker’s car. It also took Walker very fast to realize his photo gallery now had 64 more photos of Yelena shoving the camera into her face and Bob’s hideous hoodie, which he deleted right in front of them after letting out a snicker. But Bob thought he saw Walker recover a few of them—those that looked presentable—when he thought no one was looking.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad.
—
It had been two months since Walker started playing with them, at first begrudgingly because it was the only way he could ever be in a band, but then he slowly opened up to them as well. Even so, he was still a tad bit too closed off to actually get close to anyone. Bob couldn’t talk to him for more than five minutes without having to rack his brain out for things to bring up.
The news came before their last practice of the week.
It was supposed to be a rehearsal, even, as they’d finally finished a song and decided to play it at their next gig. They couldn’t arrange any other practices before that very gig as Ava was busy with her finals essay and Yelena had extracurricular activities. Theatre, Bob remembered.
He was tuning his drums, coming in just after Yelena - the one who always arrived the earliest, when his phone rang noisily. Bob didn’t have many people to text with, let alone call, so it must have been very important. His heart sank when he leaned in to look at the phone screen. It was his mother.
Her calling never meant anything good.
The first thing he heard after picking up was her mumbling a string of words unintelligibly. Bob closed the door behind him and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he waited for her to repeat her words.
“What is it, mom?”
“Your fucking father died. He overdosed. The funeral is next weekend, so make sure to be there.”
It sounded so distant, as if she was talking about an acquaintance only and not her own husband.
Bob couldn’t hear what she said after that. In fact, he didn’t care. His hands were shaking enough for the phone to drop right on his legs as he dropped down on the floor. He leaned his forehead against the wall and took in a deep breath, not bothering to answer back before his mother got annoyed and hung up on her own.
The last time Bob saw his father was probably two years ago. Almost three, even. He tried his best to avoid him. It was best for them not to talk, because Bob still hadn’t learnt not to flinch whenever someone raised their hand in front of him. He didn’t need his father’s cruel words about all that.
Bob had no idea how long he’d sat there for. He only came back after his phone rang for the third time and he looked down to see Yelena’s full name as the Caller ID. He stood up and wandered back to their practice room, his eyes still dull and hollow.
The practice didn’t go well. Bob missed the intro for about four times before Walker finally snapped while Ava just rolled her eyes in silence.
“Come on, Bobby,” said the older man, “Can you fucking focus?”
“Drop it, Walker.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Bob saw Yelena frowned at Walker.
Bob only gave him a blank stare, though his left eye twitched at the nickname. That seemed to get on Walker’s nerves even more.
“Listen, for fuck’s sake, you wait for 10 seconds before going in with Yelena. What’s so hard about that, Bobby? Can’t even count to ten?”
“Stop calling me Bobby.”
“It’s not even the fucking point!” Walker growled, “And what about Bobby? That’s a nickname only. Can’t even do it right and now you’re getting pissed at a stupid nickname?”
Bob didn’t know what got to him, but he stood up from his drum set and lunged forward to grab Walker’s collar, his eyes narrowed as he grunted to the confused looking blonde man.
“I said stop fucking calling me Bobby.”
He only came to his senses when Yelena came to pull him away from Walker. Bob gave the older man an apologetic look before casting his eyes down at the floor.
He was being unfair. How could Walker even know? It was just a harmless nickname and he had no ill intentions. Bob was actually screwing things up. He always managed to make things worse. Always.
“My dad died.” said Bob, in a factual way, like how people say It’s raining, or Your shoelace is untied.
The silent atmosphere that came after was awkward, and he regretted opening his mouth. But the tears that were threatening to fall were replaced by the feeling of confusion when Yelena sat him down on their couch and rubbed his back comfortingly while Ava came to give him a clumsy pat on the shoulder. Walker just stood at the back awkwardly, fiddling with his bass strings while his eyes still focused on Bob, as if he didn’t know what else to do.
—
Bob didn’t leave his room for days after the practice. Yelena would leave food at his door and remind him to eat only to come back and take the whole tray back to the kitchen, knowing he hadn’t even opened the door. It felt bad to ignore his friend like that when she was just showing she cared, but it felt even worse knowing he still felt something about the call.
He couldn’t cry. His mind wouldn’t let him. Why crying over someone that wasn’t worth it? The thing that troubled him most though, was the aching pain in his chest and the way his brain was racking of memories of him and his father. There was nothing he could remember—and it was obvious—but somehow he still did all that subconsciously like a way to cope.
Three days passed and there was nothing but water in Bob’s stomach, and he wouldn’t leave his bed. Yelena still knocked on his door every four or five hours, but Bob pretended to sleep, as if he heard nothing at all. It was easier that way than to admit he was breaking down.
“Bob, Walker wants to see you.” Yelena’s voice rang through the door, and Bob’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he closed his eyes. Why would he even want to see him? To look at his pathetic form right now?
The knocks stopped after a while, just as Bob started to feel dizzy.
The next time he woke up was to the muffled sounds of the rain tapping on the windows, and a part of him freaked out as he knew he had no windows in his room in the first place. Bob sat up, obviously in distress and alert, only to be greeted with the scene of a tired Ava on the armchair and Yelena lying on the floor with a book resting on her face. There was a faint smell of baked goods in the kitchen, Bob didn’t know what—his mind was still hazy—and he tried to go investigate but couldn’t even stand straight for more than five seconds before falling back down on the couch with a squeak.
Ava opened her eyes just as Walker peeked from the kitchen, both looking at Bob with worried eyes.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ava stepped closer and brought a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “You were running a terrible fever when we came in.”
“Why am I here?”
“Well—I picked your lock. Sorry about that. Yelena got worried because you didn’t eat for four days and you wouldn’t answer Bucky’s calls or texts.” Walker walked towards both of them with a bowl of food. “Porridge?”
Bob blinked in confusion but took the bowl.
“I baked something, but I don’t think you’d be able to eat them now so—”
“You bake?”
Walker just rolled his eyes before nodding.
“Yelena was so worried, Robert.” Ava’s eyes were on him the whole time Bob brought the spoon to his mouth and he could see her trying her best to hide a smirk when he winced at the temperature. “Didn’t even want to leave you alone. Bucky and Natasha had to talk her ears off before she finally dozed off.”
Bob felt bad. No, more like embarrassed. He didn’t want to trouble them this way. He certainly didn’t want to bother Yelena, or Ava, or even Walker. God, Bucky would have his head if he knew Bob hadn’t eaten for days.
But then he also felt grateful and happy that there were people who actually cared about him even though he doubted he deserved it.
“How’s the porridge?” Walker asked, seemingly nervous as if he was waiting for Bob’s feedback the whole time.
“Uhm… good? I mean, there’s nothing else inside my stomach and I was going to die from starvation so everything’s good for me. You might as well make me eat raw meat that you spat in and I’d still think it’s good.”
Bob didn’t miss the way Walker grimaced in disgust while Ava laughed like it was the funniest joke she had ever heard. And suddenly, he felt a bit better.
Later, when Walker and Ava had already left and Bob finally managed to tuck Yelena in bed (he couldn’t let her sleep on the floor like that—she was like a sister, afterall), he opened his phone only to see almost 40 missed calls from Bucky. So they weren’t joking about him worrying, Bob thought to himself. Just as he was contemplating whether he should call Bucky back, a new notification popped up on his screen.
A text from Walker.
Useless blond bassist (10:35 P.M.):
Hey. I’m sorry for being an asshole before. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. And I’m sorry about… yeah.
If you ever need anything, let me know.
me (10:36 P.M.):
Uhhhhhhh thanks?
No, I mean yeah it’s ok it’s not like you knew
My dad just used to call me bobby so
I’m sorry for jumping at you
Useless blond bassist (10:45 P.M.):
It’s totally understandable. I still want to apologize though, so… can I buy you lunch tomorrow as a way to make it up to you?
Do you have classes tomorrow?
“Who are you texting, Bambi boy?” A voice appeared right behind Bob’s back made him jump, dropping his phone face flat in the process with a loud yelp.
“Jesus fuck, Yelena! I just tucked you in bed like half an hour ago.”
“I’m thirsty. Why are you smiling and blushing like a creep?” Yelena leaned in to see Bob’s phone screen and immediately let out a whistle. “Ooh, someone’s being asked out.”
“What are you talking about? Stop being ridiculous.” He groaned then turned his phone off, acting like it was nothing, but the way his ears reddened proved otherwise. “Walker just wants to apologize.”
“Yeah, and you look like he’s just proposed. How are you now though? Did you eat?”
“I did. Walker made some porridge,” Bob rolled his eyes when Yelena snorted, “...and Ava was supervising me to make sure I finished the whole thing.”
The blonde woman only hummed back, then pulled him into a hug after a short moment. It shocked Bob because Yelena had never been very physically affectionate—no, she would definitely kill him if he ever as much as ruffled her hair. But here she was, wrapping her arms around him like she was holding a huge teddy bear and rocking him back and forth like a goddamn child. It was stupid, and ridiculous, and Bob somehow still managed to burst into tears as he hugged her back.
“It’s so weird, Yelena. I have no idea why I even feel this fucking bad. He wasn’t even a good father. He was so abusive to me it’s insane. Yet I still feel like someone’s just stabbed me multiple times and left me bleeding. When my mom called, I couldn’t even breathe. And she was—” He took a deep breath to steady his voice, “—she was so detached. Am I the only one hurt? Why am I the only one hurt, Yelena?
“It’s crazy how I haven’t seen him in so long and I still remembered his whole face the moment I heard about him. We don’t even look similar, he has—had sharp cheek bones and slightly sunken eyes, you know. He looked so tired, but so violent. And his hands—they were big. He slapped me. He punched me. He threw plates at me.
“And here I am, crying and hurting like he used to hug me so tightly and lovingly. It’s weird, Yelena. So weird. I hate looking and feeling pathetic. I hate that he’s my family. I hate it so much.”
Yelena said nothing and only tightened her arms around him. Bob had never cried that much and it saddened her to see him looking so upset. She didn’t get to hear much about his father, mostly because he seemed uncomfortable. There was one thing she knew for sure, though, and it was that she would do anything she could to help her best friend. If Bob let her do just that.
They stayed that way for about twenty minutes, with Bob sobbing into Yelena’s shoulder while she rubbed his back comfortingly. Their position seemed awkward as he was way taller than her and he had to bend his knees a bit while Yelena had to stand on her tiptoe, but somehow it worked.
—
Walker, as it turned out, actually kept his promise.
Bob was sitting awkwardly under the big tree behind the greenhouse when Walker jogged up to him with a stupid grin on his face. How did he even know Bob was here? Only Yelena knew this spot. Or maybe Yelena told him. Snitch, Bob thought secretly.
“Hey. I made some sandwiches. I’ve also bought salad from the cafeteria in case you don’t like sandwiches.” said Walker before handing Bob what looked like a lunch bag.
A lunch bag? The last time Bob had ever seen anyone use that was back when Yelena just got into college and Natasha insisted her younger sister eat what she prepared. His parents had never bothered giving him one before. Hell, they didn’t even know whether he actually ate or just smoked during lunch time.
It was weird to have someone else prepare lunch for him.
“Eat. You look sick.” Walker sat right next to Bob before opening a can of soda. He saw the brunet eyeing his drink and just let out an amused huff as he threw a bottle of water in Bob’s lap. “There. How are you now?”
Bob shrugged, then unwrapped the sandwiches. He took a bite and just chewed in silence at first, not really knowing how to answer right away. He didn’t lie much, but being honest would feel awkward. He only opened his mouth after five minutes had passed and Walker seemed to almost doze off.
“I’m fine. I cried to Yelena after you and Ava left. It helped a lot.”
“No wonder why your eyes seem puffy, and you also forgot to reply to my texts.”
Bob raised an eyebrow at the blonde man, “I didn’t take you as the clingy type.”
“Well, it mostly depends on who I’m talking to.”
That definitely made Bob flustered, because what the hell? Was Walker flirting with him or something? No, no. He definitely was just imagining things.
Was he?
Walker was looking at him with those bright and gentle eyes and there was a shy smile tugging at his lips. His cheeks were slightly flushed—it might be because of the sun, or he had always looked like that, or it was because of Bob. It took almost everything in Bob not to kiss that stupid smile.
He, in fact, didn’t even have the chance to lean over as the sound of a low whistle made both of them jump. Yelena and Ava were walking towards them, both having cans of coffee in their hands. Ava had a cigarette in her mouth as well.
“What’s up, losers?” Ava dropped down next to Walker and handed him her cigarette pack, which he happily took.
“You might get caught.”
“Jesus, Robert, no one would even come to the greenhouse. Only we hang out around this hellhole.” Ava chuckled, then leaned in to ruffle Bob’s hair. “You look better today. It’s great.”
“Don’t flatter him. I just told him he looked sick.” Walker mumbled around his cigarette while trying to light it up.
Bob saw Ava roll her eyes before giving Walker a hard slap on his arm.
“You’re the one that’s sick. Wanker. Haven’t changed one bit since lower high school, huh?”
Both Bob and Yelena turned their heads so fast they thought they might get whiplash.
“Lower high school?”
Walker shrugged while trying to dodge Ava’s hit, “We went to the same school.”
“And I was his ex-girlfriend’s best friend, so.”
No one opened their mouths after that and the silence was only broken after Yelena let out a groan.
“I can’t believe you two knew each other and didn’t tell us for two whole months. Two fucking months.”
“Well, it’s not like we actually knew each other that much. I didn’t really hang out with Walker and mostly just heard about him through Olivia. After they broke up, we were just two strangers again.”
“Yeah, but you knew him enough to call him a wanker.” Yelena pursed her lips.
Bob just looked at them in silence, suddenly feeling a little foolish. Of course Walker was straight. Of course he had a girlfriend. He looked so straight afterall. Why would Bob think he was even flirting with him?
Oh no. Did that mean he was down bad?
Oh no.
Bob stuffed his face with the sandwiches Walker gave him, trying his best to ignore the sound of the older man’s laugh.
—
Bob’s mom called again three days later, right when they were just finished performing their first song. He ignored the first few calls, sweats starting to form on his forehead as his hands were slightly shaking. He thought if he tried hard enough, she would give up, but it wasn’t true—she kept calling. Bob had to accept the call when Walker and Ava eyed him curiously.
His mom wasn’t exactly kind when she knew he ignored her intentionally. He doubted everyone backstage heard her yelling names at him. She wasn’t always like this—no, she used to be gentle when he was a kid. She did get firmer when Bob turned into a teenager, but it was nowhere near this shouting and screaming act she was doing.
At one point, Yelena came to snatch the phone out of his hand and hang up on his mom. She frowned at him, not because she was angry, but because she was worried. Bob hated it. He hated that people thought he would get hurt so easily whenever someone as much as raised their voice at him.
But it was true. He did get hurt. He had no idea what he did wrong to be yelled at. All he had ever done was trying his best to live his life. Maybe he didn’t make his mom proud enough. No, she was never proud of him. She probably didn’t love him anymore. Looking at him perhaps only reminded her of his dead dad.
Before Bob ever had the chance to sniff again, Ava guided him to the only ugly leather couch in the room and sat him down, then just silently patted his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He thought he heard Walker talking to Yelena about something, getting a substitute drummer for their next songs, probably. He hated it too. He hated that he only ruined the moments for them. He was bothering all of them with his unstable self. Ava didn’t even like when people cried. Walker hated when plans changed. Yelena got sick of new people pretty easily. It was his fault they had to adjust.
“Robert, stop thinking,” Ava ran her fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp lightly, “I can hear you hating yourself so clearly.”
“I’m sorry.” was all he could say, but she shushed him immediately.
“It’s fine. Walker could call in for a favour. He knows many people. Don’t worry, okay? It’s just a few songs. You’re more important to us.”
Bob felt a hand placed on his shoulder. It was kinda small, so definitely Yelena’s. He was proved to be correct when she left a kiss on his hair and sat down behind him. When he looked up, Walker was nowhere to be seen.
“Ava’s right. You’re important to us, Bob. Get some rest. Walker found us another drummer for our remaining two songs.” She gave him a gentle smile, “We’ll be back soon, okay? Bucky’s almost here. He’ll accompany you.”
He only knew to nod, because he was sure if he ever opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to stop his voice from wavering.
Ava and Yelena left shortly after and Bucky came just fifteen minutes later, looking like someone had yanked him out of bed without his consent. Bob gave him a shy wave and was about to apologize when Bucky just shoved a bottle of water and a bag of chips in his hands.
“There. I can lend you my phone if you want to watch or read anything so that you don’t have to deal with your mom.” The older man glanced at Bob’s phone, which was constantly buzzing with calls and messages.
Bob only shook his head, then groaned as he opened the bag of chips.
“I’m not a kid, you know. It’s fine.”
“Never said you were. I just don’t want my friends to be sad. Don’t worry. I did worse things to Natasha and Yelena’s father.”
That piqued Bob’s interest and he gave Bucky a curious look.
“Really? Like what?”
“I taught Yelena to spit in his morning coffee when she was 13. She still does it whenever he does something stupid.”
Bob had no idea whether Bucky was lying through his teeth or being honest, but it made him laugh. He laughed so hard he almost forgot about his mom and her insults. And it was so great to finally not think of something horrible.
So great, until Bob stood awkwardly at his dad’s funeral a week later, with his head down and his lips quivering as if he was trying to stop himself from crying.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his mom frown at him and just thought, Right, I have always been a crybaby to her. He had been one since the age of 8. He was a liability to them. Always had been.
Why the hell was he there? Was he even wanted there?
The funeral seemed to last forever. Bob couldn’t even recognise half of the faces showing up even though there were only a bunch of people. He stuttered when asked to deliver a speech, or whatever it was, and got kicked once in the shin by his mom.
Then there he was, hiding from people and smoking behind the church three hours in.
Living with Yelena meant almost no smoking. She could handle the smell—of course, he heard that her father was a heavy smoker afterall and she was used to the scent of cigarettes lingering on clothes or just in the air. She was also fine when Walker and Ava smoked, so Bob had no idea why the whole no smoking rule only applied to him. Maybe Yelena knew he only smoked when he felt anything negative, and that it was nothing fun to him—not the way it was to Walker or Ava, or even to Bucky sometimes.
A muffled noise interrupted his train of thoughts, making Bob turn and peek from behind the wall.
The cigarette slipped out of his fingers, rolling on the ground all abandoned as he had to bend down and raise a hand to cover his mouth in order to stop himself from gagging. There, in front of his eyes, was his mom with another man. Kissing. Right at her husband’s funeral.
Bob stayed hiding there even after they left, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to face his mom properly.
How was he supposed to tell anyone? Hell, he couldn’t even process it himself. How could he even know whether anyone would want to hear about this? Who would care anyway? Afterall, it wasn’t like his dad was still there to be mad.
Yet he came back to his and Yelena’s place so fast, still reek of cigarettes with a face full of tears. She was nowhere to be found—in class, perhaps—but Walker was there, cleaning the fridge awkwardly before jumping at the sound of Bob’s sobs.
“Why the fuck are you here?” The way his voice cracked midway made Walker frown as he turned around and immediately looked concerned.
“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” The blond darted his eyes around as if to look for something before grabbing a handful of tissues and shoving them in Bob’s hands.
“I’m, uh, has Yelena not told you? It’s her sister’s birthday tomorrow—the scary looking redhead? I’m here as the chef because no one else can cook. She gave me the key and said she wouldn’t be back until evening.”
Huh? What birthday?
“…So she hasn’t told you.” Walker mumbled, and only then did Bob realize he said it out loud.
“But it won’t be until—” Bob turned on his phone and opened the calendar but paused after a few seconds, “—right, it’s right after the funeral. Fuck.”
“What funeral?” Now it was Walker’s turn to be confused, but he caught on very quickly as he looked at Bob’s face. “I’m sorry, Bobb—just Bob, sorry.”
No one said anything after that as Walker turned around to continue his task while Bob just sniffed stiffly next to him. Yelena wouldn’t come home anytime soon and he wouldn’t be able to talk comfortably until then. He didn’t trust Walker in that sense—in his defense, it was hard because somehow he just felt scared. Maybe he was afraid of being judged. He didn’t know how Walker actually felt about certain things yet, like about the whole growing up in an abusive household then crying over his deadbeat dad and finding out his mom was cheating, or not really cheating, right at his dad’s funeral.
“Jesus Christ, you’ve got quite a day, huh?”
Bob blinked, and he saw Walker looking at him with those worried baby blue eyes. There was a slight frown on his face as he let out a quiet sigh. Before Bob could ever open his mouth again, the older man guided him to sit at the dining table then switched from cleaning the fridge to turning on the stove. He wanted to cook.
“Seems like you really loved your dad even though he was shitty.”
“How do you know?”
“Didn’t you just—Bob, you just said that he was a deadbeat dad. And your mom was—no, it’s not really my place to repeat it. Sorry.”
Bob groaned, rubbing his eyes until they felt uncomfortable as he learned that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut at all even when he tried to.
That left him with two options. One, he confided his shitty life stories to Walker and maybe he would get the comfort he needed, or not; and two, he could choose to play dumb and avoided the topic. He knew Walker wouldn’t push. He never really did when it came to people’s private business.
Well, it wasn’t like Bob was the cautious type.
“I don’t know, honestly. He did treat me like shit, and man, I wish it was different. Maybe in another lifetime I would have made him proud enough so that he wouldn’t have hit me, you know.”
A plate of pancakes and bananas were placed in front of him as Walker sat down with his coffee. It looked as if it was his place and not Bob’s considering how he manspread like he owned the whole kitchen while Bob just… sat there with his back bent like a shrimp.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that. I wouldn’t be if I were you. He was shitty, very, but I still missed him so much sometimes. I think I missed who I wished he had been.” Bob shoved a piece of pancake into his mouth as he used the tissues Walker gave him to wipe the tears away. “Death is so weird.”
“Mhm, it is.”
Something in the older man’s tone made Bob turn to look at him. He sniffed once, then just stabbed at the pancakes with his fork until Walker finally talked again.
“So, uh, I used to have this one friend. Lemar. He was my best friend. He would definitely still be if he was alive…” The blond trailed off and went silent for a few seconds but eventually went on, “…He got into a fight at school. No, not really. He was trying to stop a fight, but somehow he was the only one ending up in the emergency room. They tried their best, but…
“It was so brutal that he didn’t even have a chance and I wasn’t there to save him. It was back when I was seventeen. We weren’t family, but it felt like a part of me died when I saw his cold body at the hospital.”
Bob swallowed the lump in his throat before looking down at his plate, a frown slowly forming on his face. “I’m so sorry, Walker.”
“No, no. I’m just saying I also, you know, kinda went through something similar and I know what it feels like. There’s nothing bad about being upset when someone that’d been in most of your life dies.”
“It’s definitely different. He was your best friend—”
“He was your dad, Bob.” Walker placed a hand on Bob’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, before using that exact hand to give his cheek a gentle pat. “You don’t have to rationalize your emotions. Just… let yourself feel them.”
Bob wondered whether Walker could feel how his cheeks were getting warmer just from the feeling of the blond’s calloused fingers against his skin.
It was probably not even intentional because he knew Walker could be quite easygoing and touchy towards people, but somehow it felt so intimate. Bob wasn’t used to being touched that way by a man (sorry for being inexperienced, he had one abusive ex only), and before he even realized it, he was leaning closer and rubbing his face against the older man’s hand.
At least Walker’s (seemingly) fond chuckles and the way he continued to stroke Bob’s cheek after meant the brunet wasn’t exactly imagining things. Hopefully.
“By the way, it’s Jonathan.”
“Huh?”
“My name. Actually, just call me John. Only my father calls me Jonathan. Stop calling me by my last name.”
“Sorry, Wa—John. John.”
John.