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For all his life John had been terrible at comforting others. He didn’t even know what to do when a child was crying and he certainly didn’t know what to say when an adult for some reason thought it was right to come to him about their problems. Not that that used to be a frequent occurrence.
He was at peace with this fact, he was rough and unrefined and would never be someone's shoulder to cry on.
So now, when there was a knock on his door on an evening he knew only him and Bob to be at the tower, he immediately felt uneasy.
“Come in,” he called.
The door opened very slowly and Bob stayed in the doorframe, holding onto the door as if ready to shut it at any moment. He didn’t look as bad as he might have looked, his hair was a bit greasy and his hunched posture made it obvious how much courage it had taken to come here. But he wasn’t shaking or being consumed by darkness and he didn’t have that intense overconfident look on his face either. He was just Bob, standing in the door as if at the entrance to a lion’s cage.
“Hi,” John said because the outstretching silence was getting ridiculous.
“Hi,” Bob said quietly, still not moving from is spot at the door. “The others are out so…”
“I know.” John was still half staring at his phone, the one he’d been staring at for the past few hours. He’d just wanted a distraction but then he’d found a reddit post discussing some article about him and his role as a new Avenger and it had only gone downhill from there. The others were out on a club night, probably enjoying their lives. John had declined to go with them, a choice he now regretted.
“I can call Yelena,” Bob said suddenly, “you don’t have to, I mean…”
John finally managed to put down the phone and look up at Bob for more than a few seconds. On second thought, he might be shaking a little, he certainly didn’t look good.
“No, no, come in,” John said before he could regret it, “Yelena probably really needs that break.”
He certainly didn’t want to be the reason she came home early. He was here and Bob was as much his responsibility as anyone else’s. He needed to stop being useless and actually care about people for once.
Bob slowly made his way into the room, still looking ready to bolt at the first sight of danger. John tried not to let it get to him but it was obvious Bob would have an easier time talking to Yelena or literally anyone else on the team.
“Alright Bobby, what’s bothering you?”
Bob didn’t reply right away, he shrugged, staring at the floor. John waited, hating how much he wanted to get back on his phone. When Bob did start speaking it was slow and quiet, like he was second-guessing every word.
“I’ve been having a few bad days I guess, I thought I could deal with it but…” he shrugged again, looking helpless, “I don’t know. I got scared and then the fear of being alone and hurting people got bigger than the fear of coming here so…”
John didn’t know what to say next but he knew he had to say something. “Well.” He shifted in his seat. “Good that you came then.”
For some reason that made Bob laugh a little, which would be great except that Bob often laughed like this when he was depressed and it was definitely more the nothing matters kind of laugh than a truly joyful one. Also, John had no idea what had caused it.
“What?” He asked, feeling irritated.
“It’s just, you’re not very good at this.”
John couldn’t quite describe the feeling that took over him but he stood up and clenched his fists. “Well what do you want me to do? I’m not a therapist, I don’t do that shit and I’ve never really cared for it. I don’t even know—”
He stopped, Bob was deathly still, his eyes widened and staring directly at him. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it that loud. But that’s exactly what he meant, he was terrible at this. He couldn’t even comfort a toddler why should he be able to comfort someone with psychological problems as complex as Bob’s?
But whatever had come over Bob he shook himself out of it on his own. Bob was back with that disquieting depressed laugh, making a few small steps back and looking at the floor. Which was good, even if it made John feel more useless.
He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, his self loathing wasn’t useful right now, he needed to focus at the situation at hand and do what he could. “Alright Bob, do you want to tell me what’s been making you feel down?”
Bob looked at him again, the dim lighting in John’s room making his eyes look darker. “Oh you know, just the usual. The others went out and I can’t fucking get my shit together and join them because I’m too anxious and miserable.”
John nodded, he wasn’t sure what to say, the only thing that came to mind was that he felt similar about not joining the others but he doubted Bob wanted to hear about his stupid problems when he was already struggling with his own. Besides, it wasn’t the same at all, Bob was actually going through a depressive episode, John was just an asshole.
He tried to think about what else might help, there weren’t a lot of options.
“You want a beer?”
Bob just stared at him blankly. “You know I’m an addict, right?”
“Oh,” John reply stupidly, he hadn’t really thought of it that way. Alcohol didn’t register as a drug to him even if he knew people who disagreed. “Well, how about a coke? The soda kind,” he quickly clarified.
Bob laughed again, the sound made John’s heart feel a little lighter.
“I’ll have a beer,” Bob said, already making his way to the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”
John did worry about it. He knew Yelena would never forgive him if Bob had some kind of relapse because of him. But Bob was already at the fridge taking out two bottles and handing one to John who had no idea how to stop this. Just one beer, he thought to himself, maybe it will make things easier.
They sat on the couch together and John turned on the TV in the hopes of easing the awkward silence. He stared at his beer, since the super solider serum it took a lot more than that to get him to feel anything but he still liked the taste and the feeling of a cold bottle in his hands. It was a comfort, even if he couldn’t get drunk.
Bob tucked his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, the bottle open and full in his hand. John felt like such an asshole, he should figure out a better way to deal with this or at least say something thoughtful.
They sat with a small gap between them, silently staring at the screen. Bob’s hair was ruffled and fuzzy, his eyes glistening from what must be unshed tears. It struck him how soft Bob looked in his blue hoodie, like a stray cat who’d walked into a stranger’s home to hide from a storm. A kind of natural pretty that was only amplified by his messy hair, crumpled clothes and unwashed face.
He hadn’t realised that he’d been staring until Bob caught him in the act, tilting his head to the side with a questioning glance. John looked back at the pointless news segment playing on the TV, he should probably switch the channel, the news were never a good thing to watch when you were feeling like shit.
He took the remote and began looking for something more fitting. “So uh,” he began, needing to distract from the fact that he’d been staring at Bob like an idiot, “what else do you do when you’re not doing well?”
Bob shrugged, taking a small sip of his beer. “Drugs.”
“Alright, we’re not doing that.”
John had at least hoped for a small laugh, nod or agreement from Bob but Bob was silently staring at the screen as if he hadn’t heard. John found it difficult to determine how bad the others mental state really was, like what if it was worse than he assumed? Maybe he should call Yelena, then the two could hug it out and fix it and John could go back to staring at his phone and wallow in his own self-pity.
But he hated the thought of giving up, of admitting that he had no idea how to do this. Back in the military he’d been good at rescuing people, it was hard at times but there was always a plan, some dangerous place to get people out of and once they were out he could know they would be safe and stay safe. With Bob he was in unknown territory, facing a nameless enemy that could not be punched or shot at.
“You know,” Bob suddenly spoke up, ripping John out of his thoughts, “I haven’t been sober for this long in years. Even when I showed up to the medical study I was high.” He laughed, his eyes focused somewhere on the floor. “Then the Sentry got it all out of my system, just like that. Now I don’t know if I could ever get high again, I’m certainly not feeling the beer.”
John stared at the by now half empty bottle in Bob’s hands, knowing the alcohol wasn’t doing anything did make him feel a bit better. “Yeah, I can’t feel it either, not since the serum.”
They were quiet again and John caught Bob staring at the empty space between them, if he was thinking about closing it or widening the distance John didn’t know. Maybe he should just make the step and close the distance, hold Bob’s hand the way Yelena sometimes did when he wasn’t feeling well. But he didn’t want to make Bob uncomfortable.
“Worst part is that I’m not even glad about it,” Bob had begun talking again, he looked at John like he’d given up on receiving good advice or comfort, like he needed to get a weight off his chest and no longer cared what John did with it.
“It scares me,” he admitted, “I can’t choose what I do with my body anymore, it’s like it doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the Sentry. And you know, maybe that should be a good thing, if I could just be the Sentry, if there wasn’t something so intrinsically wrong with me…” he trailed off, his voice choked, he shook his head and moved a hand through his hair until it got tangled up in the knots. John didn’t know what to say, he took a long gulp of his beer and stared at the TV, a tight feeling in his chest.
Bob sank in on himself, the tremor in his body had returned. “I want that so badly,” his voice was thin, fighting back the emotions, “to be the Sentry. It’s like everything I’ve ever dreamed of, to go on missions with you guys and safe people but I can’t, my brain’s too fucked up, I’d only make it worse.”
He was crying now, rocking back and fourth, his head in his hands.
John knew he needed to act. He turned off the TV, put down the bottle and, before he could think better of it, he wrapped Bob into a hug. It was clumsy, he knew, but from the way Bob immediately clung to him he knew he’d made the right choice. Bob’s unwashed hair smelled of sweat and grease and his body was warm and John could feel his heartbeat hammering in a too fast rhythm.
He still didn’t know what to say, the problem was that Bob wasn’t entirely wrong, he couldn’t go on missions with them and it was partly due to his mental health. They didn’t know what would happen if he went full Sentry again or if the void came back. That didn’t make it easier to watch Bob beat himself up over it.
“It’s not your fault,” John finally said because it was the best thing he could think of that wasn’t a complete lie. Bob buried his head deeper into his chest, he’d stopped crying but he made no attempt to let go of John. “Well,” his voice was muffled and there was a forced cheerfulness to it, “nothing I can do about it, right?”
He looked up at John with tear streaked eyes and an unnatural smile on his lips. Their faces were very close and John felt a strange giddy sensation in his stomach. He didn’t move, if Bob needed the comfort he was fine staying like this for the rest of the night, it was the least he could do. Having Bob’s puffy face in front of his was far more pleasant than he’d assumed it would be. The two of them had their eyes locked onto each other and John was still trying to process why having Bob in his arms like this felt so good when Bob leaned forward and kissed him.
Oh shit. John couldn’t think, he was frozen and heating up at the same time. He leaned into the kiss for far too long, getting lost in his own need to feel something pleasant instead of thinking about anyone or anything else. He was an asshole, he knew, he’d been told that often enough. Knowing it didn’t make it easier to pull away and when he finally did, carefully holding Bob by his shoulders at arms length, he was faced with the consequences; Bob’s tear streaked face, his lips still half parted, his eyes searching for something in John’s face that he wouldn’t find.
“You don’t wanna do this to yourself, Bobby.”
Bob shrugged, his voice unnervingly calm when he spoke. “Maybe I do.”
John exhaled slowly, he really should have called Yelena. “I won’t let you.”
Bob actually laughed at that. “I’ve had worse.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
John wanted to ask Bob what he meant by worse, what kind of relationships he’d been in that he’d consider John to be a healthier option. But it would be wrong to ask, not that that stopped John’s mind from putting what he knew about Bob’s past together and coming up with his own ideas. John exhaled slowly, Bob was still half sitting on him, his hands clinging to him. John had truly thought the hug had been a good idea, congratulated himself for finally doing something that seemed to be helping, fucking stupid.
He needed to get Bob away from him before this could go any further but he had to do it without making Bob feel like he was abandoning him which seems impossible. Bob was still looking at him, clearly expecting him to give in. But John was better than that, he needed to be better than that. He’d made peace with being an asshole but he wasn’t disgusting enough to take advantage of Bob’s vulnerable state.
“I’m not gay,” John said because that seemed like the easiest way out.
Bob only laughed at that. “Yeah, that’s why you dragged out the kiss like that.”
“I’m serious Bob, this isn’t going to work.”
“I don’t mind.” Bob was still smiling, there was a twitchy energy to him, his hands tightening where they held on to John. “That’s the good thing about depression you know, nothing really matters. It’s just a run and grab for the next best thing that makes you feel something.”
It wasn’t that John didn’t know the feeling, he did, but he also knew where that feeling had gotten him. He didn’t want to be the reason Bob woke up tomorrow with regret or the internalised shame John had always felt after his few clumsy encounters with other men. He tried to be gentle when he forced Bob off his lap but the action was still more frantic than he’d intended. Bob stayed on the couch and angrily wiped at his face even though there were no new tears falling.
“You’re just going to leave now?”
Something about the sudden anger in Bob’s voice made the tightness in John’s chest pull into a knot, he clenched his fists, knowing his next words would be too loud before he spoke them. “Maybe I just don’t want to be your next best thing to get high on.”
Bob’s face fell, all the anger sucked out of him in an instant.
“I didn’t mean that,” John said immediately but it was too late, Bob was already standing up, his shoulders hunched and his eyes glossy with tears.
“No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
Then he stormed out of the room and John was left with nothing but his own guilt and self loathing.
All he wanted was to forget about what happened, go back to his room and scroll through his phone until his brain shut off. Then he walked past Bob’s room and heard muffled sobs coming out of it and a genuine panic overcame him. If Bob did something to himself now it was his fault and even if he didn’t Bob had come to him because he needed help and he still hadn’t gotten it. After spending far more time uselessly standing in front of Bob’s door than he would like to admit he finally forced himself to call Yelena.
“How bad is it?” She asked, because of course they both knew there was only one reason he would call her.
What he wanted to say was that he tried, that he had no idea how to do this but that he had still given it his best shot. But that would be admitting that he failed.
“I think you should just come over,” he said instead.