Two
Dipping his paintbrush back into his water cup, he glared at the painting. Bright orange and yellow flowers stared back. Steve was sick to death of them. He loved painting, but he loved painting what he wanted. Not things he had to paint. It just took the beauty out of it. His third flower stood unfinished but he couldn't find it in him to finish.
He rubbed his eyes, it probably didn't help that he was exhausted. He's stayed up half the night, worrying about Bucky. He'd ruined his pants and his book. He wouldn't be surprised if he never came back to the shop.
His teacher jolted him out of his miserable thoughts with three sharp claps to bring the class to attention. "We have a new student."
Steve peered around the side of his canvas and internally groaned. Bucky stood there, all in black as usual. "Find a seat, James."
James or Bucky wandered over to the empty stool and canvas, next to Steve. He gently placed his bag on the floor and stroked the paper with his thumb. "Okay, carry on with your coursework pieces. James, I'll come over and talk to you."
Steve grabbed the paintbrush back up. He just couldn't seem to get away from this kid. It was like a curse. His guilt gnawed at him. He glanced over at him, silently nodding to the teachers every word. He looked back to his ugly flowers. They laughed at him.
Once the teacher had left, Steve leaned over, "hey. I can help you if you need it."
Bucky stared at him, his eyes burning a hole into his head. Steve shifted uncomfortably and looked at his feet, 'maybe not' he muttered.
An agonizing two hours later, he rose from the stool. Three flowers complete and a fourth one beginning to take shape. Looking at the canvas next to him, he saw the sketch of dog or a wolf of some kind. Animals was one of the four choices they had to choose from for their portfolio and Steve wasn't particularly good at animals, so he had gone with still-life. He shrugged, grabbed his bag and left.
Barton was sitting at the usual table when he walked in to the canteen. Although, Steve had friends of his own, he'd sometime sit with him. He was weird and lonely to everybody, but once you got to know him, he was extremely sarcastic and favoured bad jokes. Other than that, they both had a chance at going to the finals in sport. Steve was an experienced gymnast and Barton could hit an apple 70 meters away with an arrow. He said his sight was better because of his deafness.
"Hey Rogers" he said, sunglasses on.
Steve lowered himself onto the bench opposite, "what's with the shades?"
"The light in here hurts my eyes, they're sensitive you know." Steve just nodded and opened his lunch bag. "Have you seen our Scandinavian friend today?"
He shook his head, "why? Should I?"
Thor was the other sporty friend that they had. He was only here on a sports scholarship, in fact. "His brother came back from his trip home. I think he's been keeping an eye on him."
Steve sighed, Loki was the most cunning little devil he'd ever met. Not scary, just annoying and he liked to torment Thor. "Keep a look out for him."
Barton laughed, "should I scale the building again?"
"That's not what I meant."
He laughed again, "I'm joking, you're so serious all the time you know."
Shrugging, he returned to his sandwich.
"Hey look, your friend from Coffee" Barton grinned.
Steve turned in his seat and observed, Bucky had indeed walked in. Contemplating, Steve thought about calling him over to sit with them. He was still watching him when he caught his eye. Bucky's intense stare bored into him again and Steve had to turn away.
"I don't think he likes you" Barton laughed.
Fastening his apron, Steve nervously scanned the seating area. No Bucky. He wasn't exactly surprised. Nat appeared in front of him, her fiery red hair flowered around her head. "Here." She said, thrusting a book into his hand. "He left it after you ruined it." Steve didn't need to ask who 'he' was. "You need to give it back. Even though, he might just throw it." She sighed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "No more accidents."
Without realising it, Steve worked through the whole shift, looking out for Bucky. He didn't even notice Tony being as annoying. When they finally pulled the shutter down, Steve bid everyone goodnight and began his walk through the park as a shortcut to get to his apartment.
The book felt warm in his hand, like he'd stolen it. Maybe it was just his hand or maybe he was just imagining it. He dared not to open it, in case the pages tore. They had already been sodden and left to dry out. He would be surprised if it was still readable. He stopped under the streetlight and examined the cover. It was black with a golden flower on it. The title was in Russian, which sadly Steve couldn't read. He neatly tucked it back under his arm. He would return it; he knew that for sure. He always had to right a wrong. Even if he looked like he wanted to murder him every time they made eye contact.
