Steve hadn't done the wash in weeks. I walked in and here he was sitting alone, in the kitchen of his family apartment, piles of clothes, trash and dirty dishes. There was a stale smell of rubbish, unwashed bodies and I could hear him wheezing lightly.
He looked at me like he didn't even recognize me. "Steve. What in Sam Hill are you doing?"
Rogers just stared at me, empty. His mom had been dead one week to the day. "You need some help?" I sat down next to him in his rumpled clothes that look like he had slept in several nights.
"No." was his hollow reply. He was skinnier than ever.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No."
I remember being suddenly mad at him. How could he just sit and stew after all his momma did to raise him right and take care of him after his father died? I knew he was mad about the Army not taking him too, but that was no excuse for him to be a sad lump on the floor.
"You lazy sonofabitch."
Steve looked at me then, a hint of fire.
"You heard me. Lazy good for nothing." I stood up, towering over him.
"Stop"
"Make me." I glared, "Your momma would be so ashamed of you right now. Look at yourself."
"Leave her outta this." Steve growled, eyes dark.
"I'm not gonna. Get up, you lazy dog." I stated, "Clean this place up."
Without a blink of an eye, he launched himself at me with a scream. I was easily still two heads taller and at least 50 pounds heavier, so I did not try to stop him because if I did, I knew I'd break a bone. I just let him pound on me, his bony fists barely making any damage on me. After a moment of blind rage, his asthma caught up with him and the arm swinging slowed to nothing. He fell forward into me, sobbing, barely able to catch his breath.
I stood there for him and put an arm around one side to hold him up as his knees shook violently, threatening to collapse. I don't think I'd ever heard a man make those sad sounds before, until I went to war in Germany. Then I heard those sounds too much. The screaming; the loss of all you hold dear in a single tortuous sound. That was how Steve sounded that day and I'll never forget it. I think I made that sound when I fell from the train or maybe I heard it from Steve again as he yelled my name. It's burned into my brain.
That was the day I told Steve, I was coming to live with him. He obviously needed me.
Shuri looked up from the notebook of Bucky's words to regard at him lying there in the cold. She knew that sound of loss and pain. She made it herself when the news of her father's death reached Wakanda.
