Work Text:
Fingers drumming on his thigh, prosthetic leg bouncing, nervous. Robin glanced back at the doors, hoping the miserable man he called his doctor would walk through them. Still not here. A huff and a shake of his head, he knew that having House as his doctor meant dealing with his shit schedule and less than caring attitude towards his patients. It was a two hour drive to this goddamn hospital, of course he needed a good reason to keep him as his doctor. House was the only doctor he trusted, he wasn't going to treat him like he was glass. Even after the man had found out who exactly he was, he still told Robin plainly that he had been injecting his testosterone wrong for years, where else was he going to find a doctor like that?
It didn't matter. It didn't matter that Robin had known this man for years, that despite all the flaws House had he still was a damn good doctor. Robin wasn't built for the mundanities of it all. He thrived in the field, not in an office where anxiety could dig its claws into him.
"Duck!" Robin dropped to the floor, seeing Bucky throw a man past him, against a wall, unconscious immediately. This was supposed to be an easy mission, clear out any leftover hydra soldiers. But when was a mission ever easy for them? Robin had only been back in Bucky's life for a few weeks, maybe a month at this point. The second Bucky called him, the same day the new team had been announced, he came running. It didn't matter that he had been essentially missing for two years, if Bucky needed him he wouldn't hesitate.
He looked back at Bucky, and for a split second his knees went weak. That dumb fucking smile already on his face, a hand reaching out to help him up. Robin already knew what he was going to say. "Watch your back, little bird."
Something twinged in his chest, not quite an ache, but not wholly unfamiliar. Robin was used to the feelings he had for him, they used to almost consume him, working with him again seemed to bring them back to the surface. It was like no time had passed at all. Taking his hand and dusting himself off, Robin let a grin of his own slide onto his face. "Isn't that what you're for?"
The pride he felt when Bucky laughed was almost unparalleled.
Footsteps quickly behind him, Robin perked at the sound, only to see one of the other doctors entering the adjacent room.
"Ten minutes, Birdie." The blonde man grumbled, upset obviously, but not at him. House must be caught up in another act of malpractice somewhere in the hospital. A large sigh, Robin closed his eyes. Dumb nickname, the only times he really heard it was from Bucky. And Bucky knew him a lot better. He let it go, didn't want to argue when he was having troubles breathing as it was. Chase already seemed to be disgruntled about something, he didn't need Robin on his case too. Not when whatever anger Robin would direct towards him would be misplaced in the first place.
He stared at the ceiling, begging, pleading, that whatever this was wasn't serious. Having been effectively benched for two weeks at this point, he couldn't handle being on the sidelines much longer. The team couldn't afford him to be gone. Even with all of that aside, Bucky was still going out on missions. Robin hated being unable to be at his side, unable to watch his back.
The mission had gone well, better than most. Robin found himself in the tower's common room with the rest of his team, actually relaxing post mission for once. It had been getting easier, growing closer to his new teammates. Yelena's badgering still reminded him too much of Natasha sometimes, and as infuriating as it was to admit it, John's stubbornness only rivalled Steve's. Sometimes he wished it was harder to adjust, that it took more work than it did. Then he would have a reason to keep his distance. Something other than his own issues, at least.
Someone said something, he missed it, his mind elsewhere. But he couldn't miss Bucky's laugh beside him. On the best of days he had trouble tamping down how he felt, keeping his emotions locked up tight. If he didn't have a good handle on them, well... He didn't want to think about it.
Then there was a burning in his throat, in his chest. He excused himself from the team quickly, finding himself locked in his bathroom before he could really think. The second the door closed, he couldn't hold back the hacking cough. Damn, maybe Bucky was right, vaping would kill him one day. Catching himself on the counter, he knew that was a stupid thought, this was different.
Sputtering into the sink, the burn lessened, but not until after spitting out something covered in blood. Robin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, confused as he stared down at it. Had they encountered something contagious on a mission recently? No one else seemed to be having any symptoms... Rinsing it off, he wondered how the fuck could something get stuck in his throat.
What he found was a single petal of a purple hyacinth.
Rubbing at his face, Robin held back a groan. Ten minutes had come and gone, and still no House. On most other visits he would be playing nice. Badgering Chase about a new hair cut, poking fun at whatever Foreman seemed to be pissed off at, feeding Cameron obvious lies about his team. Hell, whenever House made him wait this long he would have at least gone to see if Wilson was busy. But today? Today Robin hadn't gotten up from the chair. When he had called House, the man already seemed to know what was wrong with him, but wanted him to come in just to be sure. For as crotchety as the older man was, it was obvious that he did care about his patients getting better, even if they got worse first.
He could feel the other doctors’ eyes on him, it didn't help. The second House gave him any idea that what was happening to him was real, something diagnosable, he hadn't been able to relax. At first it seemed silly. Coughing up flower petals? What part of that seemed even remotely logical? Robin had figured he was just under too much stress, maybe he was seeing things. Then House asked him to actually come see him, and he couldn't pretend it wasn't happening. God, he wished he had been able to tell Bucky any of this, but he hadn't been able to put that kind of worry on him. He had let the other man believe he just had some sort of cold, that he was off visiting the X-Men instead of seeing his doctor. His hands flexed, wishing he was sitting here next to him.
There was the tickle in his throat again. It was familiar now, he could feel the petals pushing their way through his chest and up his throat. The coughing fit wasn't as bad as it could have been, it was always easier when he was alone. Well, mostly alone. Handkerchief in hand, it looked worse than it was, really. It wasn't that much blood, and it wasn't a full flower... He clenched the bloodstained cloth tightly, hoping that his doctor would get here already.
There was a whole fucking flower soaked in blood in his sink.
At first he thought it was some weird fluke, that somehow a flower petal had gotten stuck in his throat. It had been at least a month since it first happened, and it hadn't stopped. At first it was just a petal here and there, then it was two. Then it was almost every day. Now here he was, standing lightheaded in his bathroom after hacking up an entire flower. The last few weeks he was starting to have trouble breathing, having to take a moment during missions to cough something up before his team noticed. He couldn't tell anyone. What could he say? Hey has anyone else been coughing up flower petals or just me? It was too ridiculous. And he couldn't keep his distance from the team anymore. As much as he hated it, he was starting to rely on them just as they were relying on him. For once in the entire time he'd known him... it felt like Bucky needed him too. It was an easy decision to hide this, at least at first. At least until Bucky benched him.
A few days ago Bucky ordered him to take some rest even though Robin insisted it was just a cold. How could he explain this to anyone? There was enough stress on them as it was, between navigating the new team, training, missions, and just existing as a public figure again. The media would love to tear apart Robin needing to take some sick leave of all things.
The water was running, washing the blood down the drain in red streaks. He wasn't the biggest fan of hyacinths, but he had to admit they were growing on him. Or in him, rather. For a second he couldn't help but think how pretty the flower would be. If it wasn't, y'know, soaked in blood and fresh from his mouth.
"Robin? Everything okay?" A knock at the door. Robin closed his eyes, of course Bucky would come to check on him. No doubt the other man had heard another coughing fit. It wouldn't have been the first time he had taken care of Robin when he was sick. The thought brought back the ache in his chest, just a bit. Bucky's concerned voice, a bit more.
"Yeah," He tried to respond, but his voice was weak. He was coming back to himself, the lightheadedness fading finally as he turned the sink off and disposed of the flower. He knew he needed to figure this out, sooner rather than later. "I'll be out in a second alright?"
Robin's eyes were closed, arms crossed, when he heard the familiar sound of House's cane against the floor. A small relief, yet followed by a larger sense of fear. The door opened and shut, Robin didn't turn. Then the shutters went, closing them off from House's team. Robin's jaw clenched. House usually loved a show of things, rarely did he actually insist on privacy from his team. Only after he heard the man sit down did Robin actually open his eyes, preparing for the worst.
What met him wasn't pity, or even empathy. When did he ever expect those things from House? Instead the man's eyes were hard, his brow furrowed.
"You're an idiot," were the first words out of his mouth. Yeah, okay that made sense.
"You gonna tell me this is all in my head?" Robin groaned, rolling his eyes. Even if he was seeing the flower petals, it didn't really explain the blood.
"No, you moron, you're a goddamn super human and you're gonna bleed internally to death due to fucking flowers!" Robin's retort was caught in his throat. The confusion must have shown clearly on his face, what with the way House groaned into his hands. "A quick google search would have told you about a little something called hanahaki disease, heard of it?"
He couldn't say that he had. It was embarrassing at times, things that seemed to be common knowledge escaping his grasp. But this was House, and it wasn't every day Robin was hearing of people coughing up flowers. He must have been quiet too long, trying to remember any mention of something like this, because House spoke up again pulling him out of his own mind.
"How many petals are you spitting out? One, two?" His voice was still gruff, but more clinical. That was the doctor Robin knew, at least he was to the point. Anyone else would have danced around it for the same amount of time House had kept him waiting. Robin felt his muscles slowly relax, his arms uncrossed as he slowly gave in, knowing this wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. Unfurling his still clenched fist he presented the man with the half a flower he had coughed up not ten minutes prior. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed how the man's jaw clenched, the slight hitch of his breath. But both of them knew Robin had.
It wasn't the complete truth that Robin had never felt this way before. The longer it went on, the more familiar the ache in his chest felt, the tickle in his throat. God, it had been years ago at this point. It was probably when they were living in Romania, if Robin had to guess. When he and Bucky were on the run, that's where they had been the longest. Two years spent running from the world's governments, and for six months they found themselves there in that shitty little apartment. It had just been the two of them, and Robin held onto that feeling for a long time after.
He had thought it was just a cold, Bucky told him it was because he hadn't stopped smoking. The cigarettes were bound to catch up to him. It wasn’t uncommon for the mutant to get sick, despite the extensive experimentation hydra had done on him in his youth. Just pushing himself a bit too hard was bound to give him a migraine. Sure smoking didn’t help, but Robin knew better. At least he thought he did. It felt different, like there was something stuck in his chest that he couldn't get out. It was easier back then to tamp down his emotions. He had been doing it for years, it just simply wasn't safe for him to feel his emotions. Not then, not there.
But Bucky would come home, Robin's favourite fruits in a market bag and he couldn't help it. The warmth in his chest was accompanied by an ache he couldn't describe, something carving itself deep into his ribs.
Why would it start happening again now? He made excuses, that it was the smog from the city, that it was just a cold. Hey, maybe Bucky was right that vaping wasn't much better than smoking after all.
"How bad is it?" Robin asked quietly, just wanting to know the verdict. He didn't care what needed to be done, he needed to get back to his own team, to-
"Hanahaki disease comes from the Japanese words meaning flower and to throw up," House's voice was strangely even, the effort made Robin tense. "It presents in, as you can tell, flowers blooming in one's lungs, forcing them to be coughed up."
"Jesus Christ House, just tell me how bad it is!" Robin's voice became lower, almost a hiss not wanting his team to overhear.
"The disease takes root when a person feels intense unrequited love over a long period of time." Hold on, what? "You're going to die in two months time, of a broken heart. Flowers are going to bloom in your lungs until you choke on them." House's words were blunt, to the point. Just like always. Just how Robin wanted him to be. But now? Now there was something close to pity in his eyes.
It felt like his whole world tipped on its side. A broken heart? Un...requited? None of this was logical, why hadn't he heard of this before?
"You're fucking kidding me." Robin tried to... tried to be something, but he couldn't process any of it. He was growing flowers in his lungs because... because he was in love with Bucky? He could see the man's concerned face, waiting outside his bathroom, hear him laugh at a dumb joke, feel his arms around him after a nightmare...
And he was coughing again, kerchief pressed tight against his mouth. The warm feeling in his chest stung, souring as it finally clicked. He nearly doubled over, the other half of the flower dislodging itself.
"I'm fine, Bucky," Robin groaned, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. It had been a bad coughing fit, nearly a whole flower had come out this time. He had barely had enough time to get rid of the petals before he passed out on the bathroom floor. Bucky had found him some time later, covered in his own blood. He was still lightheaded, the other man worrying about the room trying to find something to help.
"You're obviously not, Robin!" His voice was tight, not quite angry but Robin knew if he pushed it, it wouldn't be pretty. Bucky's hands were on him, the dull ache in his chest twinged as he looked over him. There wasn't anything the older man could do, and they both knew it. If there was, Robin would have let him in a heartbeat. It wasn't hard to see how Bucky wanted to take care of him. Even after all these years, Robin couldn't help but feel like something of a burden. If Bucky couldn't help with this, he would do his damn best to at least not make it his problem. "I know you don't like doctors, but something's going on-"
Robin hadn't anticipated how Bucky's voice would break. How he wouldn't be able to finish his sentence, looking away and not meeting his eyes. He was worried. Bucky was never like this, never this... scared. Trying to ignore this, to hide it away had only made it worse. Robin’s breath went still as Bucky’s fingers gingerly wiped away at the dried blood on his lip.
"I'll... I'll set something up. I promise." Robins voice was strained, but softer. Trying his hardest not to lean into the small touch. A gentle hand atop Bucky's, using all his willpower to stop it from shaking.
"There... are options," A voice came from behind him. Robin didn't have to turn to know Wilson was standing in the doorway. Any other day, any other fucking day, and Robin would be reprimanding them about patient confidentiality, poking fun that they couldn't keep their noses out of his business. But he just didn't have it in him. Eyes closed tightly, he could feel Wilson walking in, standing next to House. He couldn't look at them. He didn't want to feel their concern, their pity of all things. Robin was a fighter, he had been on three different superhero teams. He fought world ending threats, and this is what was killing him? That his body couldn't handle that Bucky didn't love him back? House didn't even have it in him to crack some crude joke about him. It was pathetic.
"And those are?" Robin was tired, already resigning himself to whatever it was.
"Well, you could just tell him-" Houses dry voice started.
"Veto-d, next." How could Robin put him in that position?
"Distance can help-" Wilson's voice was softer, trying to lessen any blow.
"Literally impossible." The team was counting on him, the team was still new. He couldn't abandon them now of all times.
The look shared between the two doctors wasn't comforting, it made Robin's stomach turn. It wasn't often he saw House this, well, serious. Whatever it was, couldn't be that bad. Hell, Robin had spent his childhood locked up as hydra's experiment nothing could be worse than that, right?
There was no fanfare when he made it back to the tower, he was glad for that at least. Robin hadn't been getting the same mission updates since he was benched, Bucky knew he would worry too much if he was. Maybe they were out on a mission. Either way, it gave him enough time to get to his room and out of his now bloodstained clothes. If any of his teammates saw his shirt covered in blood, especially when he was supposed to be resting, there was no way he would be able to get out of it. At least now he could mitigate the damage, play it off as something easier to deal with than it was.
A shower helped, a nice long and hot one after the day he had. The ache wasn't completely gone, but he could breathe better. He would need that for the conversation he was already practicing in his head. Would it be easier to tell Bucky by himself and let him tell the team? Or would it be easier to tell everyone at once? On one hand, it was easier to be vulnerable with Bucky, but it was harder to lie to him one on one. He would ask questions he couldn't answer, questions he wouldn't answer. On the other hand, it would be easier to give a blanket statement to the team. Maybe they would ask the same questions, but it would so incredibly easier to not give the whole truth. Then again on a secret third hand, he could just... write them a letter.
He groaned letting himself fall back onto his bed. That was probably the worst option. He would have Bucky busting down his door in 0.2 seconds, demanding to know what was going on, and the team would be listening from the hallway anyways.
He had to figure out what to say, before Bucky inevitably did track him down. Even if the team was on a mission, it wouldn't be long until he found out he had gone to House and not the X-Men like he had told him. The lie was waiting patiently in the back of his head. It was an easy one, not a complete lie, but again not the whole truth. Robin just needed Bucky to believe it.
Robin stared blankly at the doctors. They couldn't be serious...? No, Wilson couldn't lie about something like this. And House just wouldn't. A procedure to remove his feelings? There had to be repercussions for that. Was it just his feelings for Bucky, or all of them? Did it affect his memories with him? There were too many questions-
"That's it? That's the cure?!" For the first time since calling House, Robin fully felt something other than anxiety. He was stopped in his tracks, confused and frankly surprised. None of this seemed real, almost like a cruel joke.
"There are side effects," Wilson was quick with the information, before Robin could lose himself in the idea. "All emotions tied to B- to the person would be gone. No affection, nothing. As a result, the rest of your emotions would be less... intense. You would still feel, just not as much. And the statistical likelihood of falling in love again… you probably never would,"
Robin couldn't think. Each word felt like another petal clawing its way up his throat, begging to be seen, to be heard. All these years he spent trying to manage how he felt. Putting distance between them, putting his life on the line, coming when he called, and all the while claiming it was platonic... And this is where it got him? He had finally, finally, started being comfortable around people that weren't Bucky. He was maybe coming to terms with the fact that Bucky couldn't ever return his feelings... He could feel the heat in his palms, the want, the need for something to break. His whole damn life, he would have asked for something like this. How many times had Xavier told him his emotions were dangerous? He knew how dangerous they were, he had always kept them from everyone else. He had to.
Now they were killing him from the inside out.
Robin hadn't realized he had fallen asleep, not until the bed was dipping next to him and jolting him awake. Bucky was the only person with the security permissions to let himself into his room, of course. It wasn't uncommon for either of them to crawl into the other's bed after a long day or after a nightmare. Thinking about it, Robin didn't know how this hadn't happened sooner. After finding out what was going on... he hated how much it made sense.
"Got a call from Dr. Wilson today," Bucky's voice was quiet, softer than Robin was expecting. He didn't open his eyes, not yet. Of fucking course Wilson called him. The man had enough tact and professionalism to not tell him exactly what happened, Robin knew that. But that didn't make it any better. "Said you got some bad news."
Robin hated how calm he sounded. Bucky had been urging him to get checked out, and now he was sitting here trying to be strong for him. If only he knew that was making it worse, the ache in his chest twinging.
"I know you're awake, little bird," Bucky's voice stayed soft, a hand reaching and brushing the hair out of Robin's face. "You gonna tell me why, you threw a chair through House's glass wall?" Robin groaned, turning away to hide his face in a pillow, if only for a moment. Yeah, Wilson would have told him that. It wasn't his proudest moment, but after the news he got, it was a miracle he was able to even drive himself home.
The two hour drive took closer to three, having to pull over every so often as a coughing fit took over. He was just glad he knew how to get bloodstains out of clothes, because he had run out of napkins a long time ago. He tried not to think about Bucky, but that was hard enough before all of this. How was he supposed to explain to the team any of this? Sorry guys, I have the love-is-going-to-kill-me disease! Whoops! How was that conversation supposed to even go?
Sitting on the side of the highway, Robin laid his head against the steering wheel trying to catch his breath. There was no way Bucky could know, but he couldn't keep it from him forever. What other option was there, except just keeling over one day? This wasn't his fault, and Robin knew the other man would... he knew Bucky would do anything to try and stop it. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about his seemingly endless devotion, his self sacrificial bullshit. Not now.
Coughing into the collar of his shirt, again, Robin knew he would have to tell him something.
"I'm sick, Bucky," Robins voice was flat, muffled from the pillow. Of course he was sick, everyone knew he was sick. That much was fucking obvious by now. House had given him the impression that even though it was uncommon, most people knew about the disease. It just seemed to be one of those things Robin just... hadn't heard about.
Bucky sat there, patiently waiting for Robin to calm himself. He was always good about things like that, never pushing too hard when Robin needed space. And on the other hand, pushing just a bit when he knew Robin needed him to. The most he did was take Robin's hand in his as the younger man sat up. "Do you... wanna talk about it?"
The petals ripping up his lungs burned. How had he done this for so long? Knowing what he knew, Robin couldn't help but think back to every time he had treated him with such care. How many times had Bucky held him close, until he calmed down? It was... infuriating; he was so sweet and yet-
Slowly, but gently, Robin pulled his hand away and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a red tinged handkerchief. Dry now, but once soaked with blood. He felt how Bucky stiffened, seeing the favour. Robin just hoped he knew what it meant, that he didn't have to explain everything. Carefully he opened it to reveal the second half of the hyacinth he had coughed up on his drive home.
"Doctor says it's called hanahaki," he spoke quietly, his eyes not leaving the blood stained flower. House had told him that a couple petals now and then were manageable, but whole flowers? It wasn't a good sign, especially when they developed so quickly. He tried to take a deep breath, remembering the lies he had been rehearsing. It was hard, his heart beating faster as Bucky's fingers gingerly grazed the flower in his hand, like he was holding his breath.
"What happened?" Bucky's voice was steady, but Robin could hear the waver. The hesitancy. Yeah, he knew what the disease entailed. Robin figured it was probably a popular children's fable, something mothers told their children before bed. His own breath hitched as Bucky's hand curled around his, closing the flower in it. Robin bowed his head, shaking it. That was the whole thing wasn't it? Nothing happened, not really. The ache had been there for years, but now they had something close to a stable life. Friends they could rely on, security in where they lived. Maybe the media wasn't too kind to them just yet, but the two of them had worked so hard to get to where they were now. And it seemingly still wasn't enough. Robin couldn't ask for more.
"Nothing happened," Robin mumbled, gently tucking the handkerchief away. He could lament for hours how this happened, how easy it had been to fall in love with him. But he couldn't put that on him, Bucky deserved better than that. The man had been at his side at every turn, and Robin had been too weak to stay. It was fine, he could do this. Just a couple of half truths and white lies, and this conversation would be over. "He just... he just doesn't love me back."
"Who doesn't love you back?" In a swift motion, Bucky stood, pulling them both to their feet. It wasn't lost on Robin how quickly Bucky had turned to anger. He didn't have control in the situation, it was easy to see how the older man was looking for any way to help. He moved to pull Robin towards the door, but Robin stayed still. "Who is it?, It's someone I know isn't it?" Bucky's voice had all but dropped to a growl, becoming more tense by the second. It tugged at the loose petals in his chest. "It's Matt isn't it? Don't tell me it's Kurt-"
Robin felt frozen. Why hadn't he expected this reaction from Bucky? He hadn't had any idea how the man was going to react. But still he stayed where he stood, one hand gripping the edge of Bucky's sleeve. "It doesn't matter, it's..." He could barely get the words out, his hands nearly shaking as he cut the older man off. He didn't want to think about them. Yeah, he had his regrets. He didn't treat either of them right... But he never felt like this about either of them. "You know the three ways to manage it right?" Robin's voice felt so small, barely able to even look at the other man. It was hard enough lying to Bucky, but intentionally keeping information from him... it was almost impossible. Bucky went still, even if Robin could still feel the anger radiating from him. He huffed, nodding for Robin to continue.
The memory of Matt still clung to edges of Robin's mind on the worst of days. The relationship hadn't been long, maybe just shy of a year. Back when he thought he could maybe have some idea of a normal life. They had met at a coffee shop, where else? A conversation turned into a crush, turned into a date, turned into... It was complicated. Robin couldn't bring himself to tell the man about his life as an Avenger, and Matt would come home just as covered in bruises. A ruthless back and forth of half truths and secrets, Robin knew he loved Matt but it wasn't enough. They both fell fast and hard, each argument with a rough undercurrent of please let me in, please trust me even though neither could do the same. He left the man with nothing but a note, saying he was moving to D.C. The decision still haunted him. The way someone would say something, a flash of brown hair out of the corner of his eye. It was enough to remind him that maybe he would never stop loving him.
Kurt was worse in some ways. He would laugh it off whenever someone would bring it up, his stupid fling with nightcrawler when they were kids. He had been the first person Robin had ever really befriended, and maybe that was the problem. He kept his emotions so close to his chest, and even still he damn near idolized the idiot. It had been so easy to be around him, so easy to fall in love. Is that really what it was? Robin still wasn't sure. He had been so vulnerable, so scared of everyone, anyone. But with him... Hushed whispers, quiet laughing, the dark of a closet somewhere in the X mansion. He knew he didn't call the X-Men as often as he should, he was lucky if he saw them maybe twice a year. Every visit was tinged with a bittersweet air. Things hadn't ever been the same since the incident with Ororo, and they sure as hell didn't get better when Robin decided to leave.
God, Robin really did have a track record of fucking things up didn't he?
"First option is to... tell him," Robin let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "And that’s pretty much impossible." He sure didn't mention it was because he refused to burden Bucky any more than he already had.
"The second option is to put some distance between me and him," He could feel Bucky's fingers pull at his own, lacing them together and holding tight. It was obvious he figured whoever it was, was close by. "And, well, I've got about as much distance from him I can get," Another half truth. He had already made a promise to Bucky he wouldn't up and disappear. Not again.
"The third option...." Robin bowed his head once more, his throat getting tight as he felt Bucky's eyes on him, hanging on every word. "There's a surgery to remove the flowers, but it takes all feelings about him away. In the process, the rest of my emotions would be... well they wouldn't be the same-"
There was always a reason Robin kept his emotions locked up. It wasn't just his issues trusting people, or that he had been emotionally stunted from childhood. Of course, those things didn't help, but he could deal with that. What he couldn't deal with was the fallout of his powers taking over. Overwhelming emotions, if he were allowed to feel them... Xavier had told him time and again that they were dangerous, that he didn't need to remember what had happened. At least that's what the professor had said to explain why he had placed memory blocks in his mind. But Robin knew exactly what could happen. The way that Ororo kept her left arm covered, how Logan didn't push him as hard in training... it wasn't hard to figure out. And when the memory blocks began to fail, he had to live with the guilt too. He couldn't forget the way flesh rot under his hands, how easy it had been.
Most of his energy went into managing it. Keeping a level head, not getting overwhelmed. Migraines weren't uncommon, if not daily occurrences. A stressful day, a mission gone wrong. If Robin pushed himself just a bit harder than normal, it was easy to put himself out of commission for days at a time. It was exhausting, but at least he could still feel. What would he be without that? After everything he had been through, the last thing anyone could take from him was how he felt.
"Isn't that perfect?" Bucky cut him off, squeezing his hand. Robin felt the ache in chest pulse. Bucky knew how he had trouble keeping his emotions under control, had experienced the fallout of expending his powers a bit too much, the few times he had lost control. Most times it resulted in blinding migraines, Robin unable to leave his bed for at least a week. "Wouldn't that just fix-"
"No." Robin's voice was firm, even if it wavered. Maybe it was selfish, hell he knew it was. He couldn't live his life without loving Bucky. Wasn't he the whole reason he was still here in the first place? Without Bucky, he wasn't even sure where he would be. He wasn't sure who he would be without him. "I- I can't, Bucky-" This time his voice did catch in his throat, quickly pulling out the handkerchief to spit out another petal or two after coughing. Once he recovered, his shaking hands gripped Bucky's tighter. He could do this, just like he practiced. There was no world in which he allowed himself to tell Bucky he was the reason for all of this, not matter how hard it was to lie to him. "I cant... I can't forget him."
"So you're just... giving up?" Bucky sounded so resigned, it made Robin's knees weak. He sat back on the bed, dejected, not sure what else was left to say. The way Bucky seemed to settle into the words, it felt as if he had gotten what Robin was trying to say. Or at least he hoped he did.
Robin’s relationship with Steve was… It was strained. They became friends quickly, gravitating towards each other back when they had both originally been avengers. Both of them had been lonely, but not exactly willing to go out of their way to make friends. Teaming up on missions had turned into spending days off together, until one day Steve was making tea for Robin and asking if he wanted to move to D.C. with him.
Robin went with him. Back then, Steve had been his closest friend. His only friend, really. It wasn’t like he allowed himself to have many of them. It only made sense when Robin started to have deeper feelings for the man. What wasn’t there to like? Steve was kind, awkwardly charismatic, and he was pretty easy on the eyes all things considered. He supported Robin like he had never experienced before. The X-Men were great, but even they seemed to hold him at arms length. Steve didn’t tiptoe around him, or his feelings. If he had something to say about a decision Robin made, he would say it. Be it his relationship with Matt, or something on a mission. More than anything, Steve made him feel seen. Something he had never had before.
They lived together for two years before things went south. Robin didn’t like to think about it too much, especially since nothing ever really happened between them. Maybe a single new years kiss, but who hasn’t kissed a crush on new years and regretted it when you had to go to work and see them and go home and see them and-
It didn’t matter, because shortly after Bucky had shown up, and Robin went off grid.
But it didn’t take a genius to see how Robin felt about him. About Steve. They coped differently over the years, between all of the strife. And their friendship never really recovered. They both left a lot of things unsaid, Robin knew that. But when push came to shove and Steve chose to stay in the past… Well Robin had a lot of complicated feelings about it. As if his feelings about him weren’t already complicated enough. He rarely talked about him, he didn’t know how.
It was easier to pin all of that on unresolved feelings, wasn't it?
"What do you want me to say?" Robins voice shook, unable to look up at him. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he couldn't, wouldn't let himself say. Bucky was his best friend, this wasn't fair to either of them. He watched as Bucky's hands tightened around his own, silent. He could barely feel it, his hands still numb after the coughing fit. Was this what he was destined to? Being stripped away of his feelings, until there was nothing left? Until he didn't even know what Bucky's touch felt like anymore?
"I want you to tell me it's not Steve. That it’s not… me."
Bucky's voice was rough when he finally spoke, Robin didn't miss how it cracked, how it was strained as the man held his hands tightly. Robin didn't, couldn't, answer. He closed his eyes tightly, as if scared. What else could he do? Lying to Bucky was like pulling teeth, like trying to get out of bed in the middle of winter. He couldn't bring himself to even open his mouth, to even try and deflect. His heart sank further when abruptly Bucky was standing, pulling away from him. Bucky was pacing, like a goddamn caged animal. And Robin had put him in this position-
It was just a cough.
That's what he told himself.
It was just a tickle, something stuck in his throat. Something that clawed its way up when Bucky looked at him, grumbling that he shouldn't smoke. He agreed. It was a nasty habit to begin with, not to mention it was traceable. In all aspects, it was stupid. Robin had started smoking years ago though, some sort of way to feel in control when he had none.
But on the balcony of their shitty Romanian apartment, the cigarette didn't give him any sense of control, not when Bucky's lips were pressed into a frown, gently taking it from his hands before snuffing it out.
"Those things are gonna kill you one day," he grumbles, not quite looking at the younger man. "Gonna need you around a bit longer."
Robin stifles a cough.
He was coughing again, barely pulling the handkerchief out in time. More damn petals pushing their way past his lips, coated in sickly red.
In an instant, before Robin could even react, Bucky was kneeling in front of him, prying the cloth out of his hand, tossing it to the side. "I don't know how I could have missed it," his voice was soft, quiet. One of his hands reached up to his jaw, trying to get Robin to look at him. His touch was so soft, so gentle. Robin couldn't bear to hear it, his hands trembling, his chest feeling hollow. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, he never wanted Bucky to feel responsible, to feel guilty for any of this. How could he have known? Robin didn't exactly telegraph his feelings, not after all this time learning how to suppress them.
"Bucky, stop-" his voice rasped, desperately trying to push him, turn away, something. He couldn't handle it if Bucky forced himself to pretend. Years of trying to make the man feel comfortable, to realize he never needed to answer to anyone ever again. All Robin had ever wanted was for him to feel free. Despite his efforts, the older man's grip tightened, his thumb tracing Robin's jaw just barely. It was soft, familiar. The same way they had touched behind closed doors, in the dead of night, when words were too loud.
"You love me," Bucky breathed out, and Robin felt himself choke on a sob.
"You weren't supposed to know," his voice was all but gone, rough and scratching his throat. He couldn't help but lean into Bucky's touch, feeling the petals unfurl in his chest. What more could it hurt now? He was already so far gone. "I never wanted you to know, you can't-" But it was too late, the look in Bucky's eyes, Robin couldn't place it. Pity? Guilt? He knew now, he couldn't take that back. He was going to die knowing he left that burden on Bucky, that the man would hold that guilt for the rest of his days. After everything, everything, he still managed to fuck things up, to make things worse.
"Little bird," the nickname was spoken so softly, his breath hitched. It had been years and the way Bucky's lips curled around the letters still had him in a chokehold. A name born from a time where Bucky's memory was still spotty, but he remembered Robin, his little bird. He barely even noticed when Bucky's thumb grazed against his cheekbone, wiping away tears that had begun to fall. Of course it would come to this, what other way was there? Robin couldn't even imagine a timeline where he didn't fall in love with him, not when he held him, touched him like this. Robin was too weak to resist any more when Bucky leaned in closer, burying his head in the crook of his neck. God, he would do anything for him, and if needed him close like this to mourn... He would let him have it.
"You idiot," Bucky's voice was rough, but not malicious, not in the slightest. His metal hand came up to press against Robin's chest, where those damned flowers were growing. "You think I don't... that I wouldn't...?" The way his voice wavered, Robin let out a sigh. None of this was fair, or right, or-
"Let me fix this," Bucky's voice was wrecked, worried, as he pushed against him. And without further warning Bucky's lips were on his. Both soft and urgent, Robin gasped into the kiss, unsure of the reality of it all. But Bucky was here, his fingers all but digging into his skin, refusing to let him pull away. The taste of blood and hyacinths traded between them, short desperate breaths and whispered pleas. "I'm not letting you die over this," whispered against Robin's lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Not when I-" He cut himself off with another sharp exhale before pressing another kiss, shorter this time but no less desperate.
“No, stop, Bucky-” Robin was breathless, weakly trying to push him away. He wanted him close, closer. His heart was racing, nearly beating out of his chest, the ache only growing. The feel of Bucky’s hands, his lips, it was too much, not enough. Instead, his hand came up to clutch at his shirt, as if Bucky might vanish at any second. “You can’t, you don't have to… just because I…” The words tasted bitter even as they left his mouth. After all these years of loving quietly, living quietly with this secret tucked behind his fragile ribs. He was still trying to protect Bucky from himself, like he’d been trying to do for years.
“I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do anymore,” his voice was hoarse, his eyes glancing down at Robin’s lips again. “You made sure I knew that. You made sure I felt that freedom.” His touch was gentle, but firm as he held Robin close, his own breathing tight and shallow as he looked over him. “This isn’t about the damn flowers,” his voice was nearly breaking, their foreheads touching, lips barely ghosting over each other. “Fucking hell, birdie… I’ve been in love with you the whole time, you didn’t know?”
Robin felt dizzy, and not just from lack of air. The whole time? Every lingering touch, every look from across the room. Quiet nights in each other's arms, every time he put himself between him and harm's way, his head was spinning. It felt like he was able to breathe freely for the first time in years, at the same time he felt like he was suffocating.
He didn’t think. The way Bucky was looking at him, desperation and hunger thinly veiled by concern. Breath mingling between them, fingers curled into Bucky’s shirt. Suddenly it all just felt right. Robin pulled him close again, lips colliding.
And for the first time in years, flowers weren’t the reason Robin couldn’t breathe.
The next time Robin needed to see a doctor, it was months later. He hadn't wanted to go back to House, not after the scene he had thrown the last time he had been there. This wasn't even anything important, just some bloodwork that came back a bit off. Of course though, House loved being able to call and get him to drive two goddamn hours just to berate him for missing a shot or eating out too much. Fingers drumming on his thigh, he breathed a bit easier waiting this time around.
"I see you're not spitting up flower shops anymore," Robin's eyes closed hearing the mans voice as he hobbled into the room. "Can I tell you what's wrong with your blood or are you gonna throw your leg at me this time?"
He couldn't help but huff a quiet laugh at the jab, always right to the point. At least he wasn't wasting time and poking at-
"Not sure how Barnes would like it if I had to bar his little bird from the hospital-"
Robin groaned, knowing that of course he wasn't going to have it easy after all.