Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Pushing It Down and Praying
I wanna know peace again
Wanna sing a different song
Walker had been wandering around the tower for hours. Headphones on, music blasting, mind completely out of sorts as he makes his way through the empty floors searching for— he doesn't know.
He had woken up that morning with a pull in his gut, an ache in his mind and body. It felt like something was missing— someone was missing. There had been a weight on his bed that was gone once sleep left him. He had patted the cool mattress beside him expecting warmth and the disappointment had followed him through the day, himself perpetuating it further with his music choice.
When Valentina "gifted" them Spotify accounts, John had made sure to keep his original one, the one he's had going on almost 10 years. It had been surprisingly easy to convince her of it (probably since Mel was handling it all), but it had been a relief to him, having to start a new account caused an unreasonable amount of anxiety that Walker did not want to have to deal with on top of the stress of living with a group of unstable super humans. Ultimately he didn't want to lose the playlists that Lemar made or the ones he had made for Olivia.
John always had a connection to music, he listened to everything and could appreciate most genres, but it was always lyrics that spoke to him; that allowed him to feel what he always tried to ignore and shove away.
Of the Thunderbolts, Walker probably had the most playlists made. Ranging from five separate gym playlist, pre- and post-mission decompression playlists all the way to the one he'd been playing from the start of the day, titled as 'yearning'. He made playlists about people, to listen to when his mind couldn't stop thinking of them, missing them; and he even has one that replicates what he listened to during his middle school emo phase that Olivia always liked to make fun of him for.
He knows Yelena and Ava had gone through them all, giggling to themselves when everyone first got their accounts, surprised at the sheer number of them, the different vibes they gave and funny titles. John had rolled his eyes at them, having no leg to stand on since he was already making a new one.
'Yearning' had been created on their first tour of interviews. John had been paired off with Bucky mostly, since they had "known each other prior to the team being created… and had some public 'beef' they had needed to square off," according to Mel. The whole thing had put a weird taste in John's mouth, he felt tense the entire time, like a string about to snap. The internal conflict of wanting to be seen but knowing that he never will be, at least not as he truly is, kept him tilting off the cliff of aggravation. Putting up the act of stability and happiness constantly on camera was draining enough without having to be sat next to Bucky Barnes almost the whole time.
Walker had let Bucky lead the interviews most of the time, despite Bucky's own awkwardness causing him to step in an take the heat. They had argued off set more times than John could count on both hands, but between their bickering, they had each other's backs; Bucky even going so far as defending him whenever an interviewer had the gall to bring up Lemar.
I love him, kiss his mouth, sayin'
"Oh yeah, baby, touch and touch and touch and touch me"
I wanna feel guilty
I wanna feel that it's wrong
That original hope he had when meeting Bucky for the first time had sprung back up, the hope that maybe, finally, Bucky liked him, or could like him. John knew all he would meet was disappointment again, once Bucky really saw him they would just be back to square one.
"Just be yourself and they'll love you."
But Olivia was wrong. As soon as anyone perceives him, sees him, the dislike comes in. It doesn't matter that almost everything he does feels like an act, doesn't matter that he doesn't know who he is without someone else telling him; everyone always ends up despising him in the end.
Each interview spurred a knot in John's gut, he could feel the distance between them on each hard couch they had been placed on. He could hear every time Bucky muttered under his breath, tired of the monkey dance they had succumbed to more than he was tired of being paired with Walker (hopefully); he felt when Bucky shifted in his seat, accidentally moving closer to John, causing his breath to hitch slightly in shock before returning to himself.
I want you to need me (need me)
I need to want somethin' more
He gives what he can,
But now I don't know what he's giving for.
The first song had been added in the midst of this, one night in a random Hilton hotel in California when John couldn't sleep, half of his mind chasing after the thought of Bucky, how blue his eyes look under stage lights, the deepness of his voice whenever he has to save John from himself or the interviewer, while the other half tries to shove them away, lock them down in the cellar of his brain and never consider them again. But recently John's compartmentalization skills had been shitting the bed on him; pushing it down, ignoring it and praying that it will go away has only worked part of the time.
From that first month, living with Bucky hurt. There's an ache in John's sternum that will not leave him, one that he refuses to explain to himself or inspect, which has lead him here: wandering alone feeling like a hole was torn into his chest, like someone had wrapped a rope around his rib cage and was yanking him along by it.
Softer, harder, in between
You know just how to get to me
He returns to the main floor, mind looping, when he stumbles upon the man in question; sat on the living room couch beneath the shine of the evening sun, partially dissociated while a "How It's Made" episode drolls on in the background.
He is stable, you are deep
I know just how to get what I need
Bucky glows in the orange of the setting sun, like it was made for him, and John can't help but stop and stare, thinking about how he's so beautiful. Soaking him in any chance that he gets, just to berate himself for it later.
It's only a question
If somebody brings it up
John sighs at the sight, never able to breathe deeply around the man, like Bucky had stolen one of his lungs to keep for himself without knowing. He takes a step forward unconsciously, as if to go sit with him, forcefully stopping himself when he realizes, using the momentum to turn back to his room. What was he even thinking? Like Bucky would even want him there. God he's so stupid.
So, I'm pushin' it down and prayin'
He won't see it when I come
I'm pushin' it down and prayin'