It was the following Monday after Tony had taken Steve out to the bar—a horrible decision, really, he concluded after he brought Steve back home. Steve had puked his brains out upon returning to his apartment, and Tony didn't leave until Steve emptied his stomach and was in bed—and now Tony was on cafeteria duty. Steve was home "sick" today. Tony looked across the cafeteria and saw Bucky sitting at a table by himself.
He didn't know what made him do it, but Tony got up, strode across the cafeteria, and slid into the seat across from him. Bucky looked up from his gradebook, and his shoulders visibly tensed. Bucky's blue eyes darted back down to his book. After a moment of neither of them speaking, Bucky clenched his jaw.
"Did Steve put you up to this?" He asked vehemently. "If so, I don't want to hear it."
Tony's blood boiled. He was so angry; Bucky hadn't even given Steve a chance to explain and now he was refusing any and all explanation. "Look," Tony started, an edge to his voice. "I'm not trying to preach to the choir or anything, but Steve is really torn up about what happened between the two of you. I would just try to talk to him."
Bucky's fist clenched around his pen. He stared down at his gradebook and the names and numbers started to blur. Steve's name was enough to make his chest go tight and his head to ache; the image of the silver wedding band was branded into the back of his eyes. How could he do this to me, he was all I ever wanted, never in a million years would I have thought—
Bucky shook his head to clear it and realized that Tony was still sitting across from him. The auto mechanics teacher slammed his gradebook shut. He pushed back from the table and got up without another word to Tony. The bell rang signaling that the period was over. Bucky absentmindedly weaved his way through the crowds of kids in the hallway, back to his classroom.
The day flew by. His classes were finishing up their last projects for the year, as final exams started next week. Bucky zoned out for the rest of the day with his gradebook out in front of him, but he didn't do much grading. The drive home went by in a blur. It was like he was watching through someone else's eyes as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Bucky checked his phone. He had several messages. A few of them were from Natasha checking up on him. She heard through the grapevine that something wasn't right and wanted to make sure he was okay. Bucky ignored it. Natasha was the last person he wanted to talk about his love life with.
Bucky had other miscellaneous messages, but the thread his eyes hovered over was the one labeled emStevie/em. He hadn't bothered to change the nickname. There were more than a few messages from him that Bucky had received throughout the past week, but consciously chose to ignore. Now that he was alone, the thread seemed to be screaming at him to open it and read the messages.
The first couple of unread messages were similar:
[Received from Stevie, Mon June 4, 2:57 pm] Bucky, please let me explain
[Received from Stevie, Mon June 4, 3:15 pm] I know you're mad, but I promise it's not what you think
[Received from Stevie, Mon June 4, 3:24 pm] Please
Those were all from the day that Bucky saw the ring on his finger. Steve hadn't sent him anymore messages until that Friday, late at night.
[Received from Stevie, Fri June 8, 11:51 pm] Buckyyyy i miss u
[Received from Stevie, Fri June 8, 11:53 pm] i missu an ur lopsided smile an your laugh an ur pretty face
[Received from Stevie, Fri June 8, 11:53 pm] do u hate
That last message was repeated several times, followed by incoherent key smashes that Bucky couldn't decipher. Bucky figured they were drunk texts, and his chest grew tight as he read the last coherent message over and over again.
Bucky didn't want to hate Steve; in fact, he was almost certain that there was a good reason behind the silver band. Bucky just did what he always did—he jumped too far ahead in conclusion and put up the walls that he was working so hard on to take down.
He wanted nothing more than to go to Steve's apartment and tell him what a mistake he made. Bucky wanted to lay with him, head on Steve's chest with the blond's hand running through his hair.
But what if Bucky had been right? What if Steve emwas /emmarried or engaged? What if Steve was just making shit up just to get back with Bucky and ruin him?
These thoughts circled Bucky's mind for the rest of the night, preventing him from falling asleep. It was past one in the morning when he flung the sheets off of him and jammed his feet into his boots. He stormed out of the bedroom—still in his pajamas—and snatched his keys on the way out the door, not even bothering to lock it behind him.
Bucky stomped down the stairs. He swung the door open leading to the street. There was a slight breeze that stirred the still early summer air that sent a chill down Bucky's spine. He unlocked the driver's side door to his car and lowered himself into the seat in one quick motion. After slamming the door shut and turning the key in the ignition, Bucky sped off.
Taking late night drives was one of Bucky's methods to help clear his head. He had been doing it since college, and it really helped to just drive. He found that his mind was so focused on driving that everything else just seemed to melt away. Bucky rolled the windows down. The wind rushed through the car. That and the hum of the engine was all he heard.
It was late so there really weren't many cars on the road. Bucky was driving faster than he probably should have been; he wasn't sure if that was attributed to his anger and anxiety or the fact that there was no one on the road in front of him.
That's where Bucky Barnes fucked up.
He didn't see the light change from green to red—honest, he didn't. The gas pedal was nearly pressed to the floor of the car, the wind whipping his hair all around his face. Bucky sped across the intersection, but not before two giant headlights shone into his car. Bucky faintly recalled a horn, but at that point it was too late. The cab of the truck already smashed into the driver's side of Bucky's car.
The tail end of the car spun in the direction the truck had been going. Bucky tried to brace himself against something—emanything/em—when the car hit something else that he couldn't see. His head smashed into the back of his seat, arched forward, hitting his head again on what he thought was the wheel. It seemed like the car wasn't going to stop spinning anytime soon until it did. The car spun and came to an abrupt stop against a pole.
Immense pain shot up his back and his arms. What must've been blood dripped down his face, his arms, his neck. He felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and he promptly threw up the contents of his stomach.
His mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Bucky couldn't see anything; all the lights on his car were out. His vision swam before him so that there were three steering wheels in front of him instead of one.
When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, Bucky realized he was screaming his throat raw. He was dead, he was dead, he was dead.He had to be. There was no possible way he was alive after what he thought just happened. Or maybe this was a dream. Maybe he was actually back in Steve's bed, and everything since last Monday had been one terribly long nightmare.
Bucky found himself crying. When had that started? Somewhere he heard shouts and sirens, but they sounded far off and tinny. Everything was numb. Bucky's eyes started to close.
He fought to keep them open. This was not how he wanted to die. Not like this—not leaving things the way they were with Steve.
Steve, Bucky thought amongst everything that was sending shock waves to his brain. That was his last thought before everything went dark.
It was promptly 2:37 in the morning when Steve got a call from Nick Fury.
At first, Steve thought his ringing phone was a part of his dream. Then he realized that it was in fact emnot/empart of his dream, and he rolled over to snatch his phone off his nightstand. Steve accepted the call without looking at the caller ID.
"Hello, Steve," came Fury's voice through the speaker. Steve looked at the clock and saw what time it was. He groaned.
"Can't this wait til morning?" Steve asked, voice rough with sleep.
"No, Rogers, it can't."
Even though Fury was serious all of the time, something about the edge to his voice raised a red flag for Steve. After a moment of silence, Fury sighed.
"I know you and Barnes aren't together at the moment," he started. "But I got a call a few minutes ago saying that he was in an accident. He doesn't have any immediate family, so they called me—"
"Steve shot up in bed. Fury was still talking but he wasn't listening. Every muscle in Steve's body tensed as he stared at the wall opposite him, wide-eyed.
"He what? What happened? Is he alright?" Steve was frantic. What had Bucky been doing out so late? Where the hell had he been going?
""All I know is that he's at the hospital over on 8supth/sup, and that they're performing surgery—"
"Surgery?" Steve's voice cracked as he jumped to his feet. He sandwiched his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he raced to get his shoes on.
"Yes, surgery. They're not going to let you see him until tomorrow, you know," Fury replied sternly, as if he knew Steve was already halfway out the door. A moment passed where neither of them said anything. Steve hung up just as Fury started to talk again.
The blond slammed the door shut. Hands shaking, he fumbled with his keyring and managed to lock the door. Steve's mind reeled as he raced down the stairs to his car. Nothing was making sense to him anymore, so Steve thought it best not to think and to just do.
Which is exactly what he did. The drive over to the hospital was a blur to him. It was like one second, he was on the sidewalk unlocking his car, and the next he was rushing into the lobby of the emergency wing of the hospital. The blonde woman at the desk seemed startled when she saw the state in which Steve was in; his hair was disheveled from sleeping on it, and his pajama pants pooled around his sneakers. The dark circles under his eyes must've offset the nurse too. His eyes flitted to the ID tag on the lanyard around her neck; her name was Sharon.
"Hi," Steve breathed. "I'm here for Bucky Barnes."
Without a word, she typed the name into the computer. When it came up, Sharon visibly winced. "He's in the operating room at the moment. Only family members are allowed back there to speak to the doctors—"
Steve cut her off, panic rising in his chest. "I need to seem him, I need to make sure he's okay."
"I can't let you. You're going to have to wait, sir," Sharon replied levelly.
Steve's brow furrowed and clenched his jaw. He looked between Sharon and the doors leading to the rest of the emergency wing. Without hesitation, Steve bolted towards the doors.
Before the doors swung shut, Steve heard the sound of Sharon's chair rolling backwards as she got up to yell, "Security!"
Steve didn't know where exactly he was trying to get to; he started to follow the signs that pointed him in the direction of the operating rooms. He rounded the corner and nearly missed running head on into a group of nurses. Steve apologized quickly over his shoulder to them and carried on running.
This was crazy. Things like running through a hospital to get to your injured ex-boyfriend only happened on those garbage soap operas that they played during the day when everyone was at work. But this was real. The adrenaline coursing through Steve's veins was real. His need to see Bucky was real.
This train of thought was broken when Steve was pushed into the wall which caused him to hit his head. Steve grunted in pain and opened his eyes to find two stocky security guards in front of him. Steve stared at the two of them and tried to shake them off, but the one guard had a vice grip on his shoulder. Steve wasn't going anywhere.
"Sir, we really can't have you back here," the one with the hand on his shoulder sighed, exasperated. "We understand that you want to see whoever it is that's here, but you're going to have to wait."
He pulled Steve off of the wall. The other guard grabbed his upper arm, and the two of them guided him back the way he had come. They had made it back to the lobby, and the guards cornered Steve into a chair. They stood there for a few prolonged moments, making sure Steve wasn't going to run again. When they were sure he was going to stay put, they walked off, mumbling to each other about impatient people.
Sharon raised an eyebrow at him from behind the counter. "Don't try that again." Steve nodded and quickly looked away.
Steve thought it would be a good idea to go back home and come back later in the day when he was allowed to see Bucky. But if he went home Steve knew he wasn't going to sleep. If he went to work he knew that nothing he wouldn't be able to focus; Steve felt guilty about that, because finals emwere /emcoming up, but he couldn't help it. Steve knew his anxiety would not lessen until he saw with his own two eyes that Bucky Barnes was alive and well.
Steve resorted to staying in that waiting room until he was allowed to see him. Patients came and went, and Sharon helped get them in to see a doctor. Once someone was rolled in on a gurney. Steve didn't realize he had been dozing, because the next thing he knew, a nurse had tapped his shoulder to wake him up.
"You wanted to see Mr. Barnes, right?" she asked politely. It wasn't Sharon, but another nurse. Suddenly, Steve was wide awake. He nodded to answer her question.
"Follow me, please."
Steve clumsily stood up from his chair and followed the nurse through the doors he had run through earlier. Neither of them spoke as the two of them wound through the halls. The nurse turned down a hall that pointed in the direction of the ICU wing. Steve's nerves flared.
The nurse stopped outside of the room. There were four slots next to the door, one of them filled with a card that read emBarnes /emin neat handwriting. Steve's heartbeat pounded in his ears.
"He's not going to be awake for a while, but you can go in and see him, Mr…" she trailed off.
"Rogers. Steve," he added quickly. "My name's Steve."
"Steve, okay," she replied. She looked up at him, her brow upturned and a sad look in her eyes. "I think they told you that he was in a car accident, right? Well, he's not all…there."
Steve stared at her in confusion. Without asking her to elaborate, he opened the door and quietly made his way into the room. It was set up with four beds total, the ones closest to the door devoid of patients, as well as the one in the far right-hand corner. The bed in the far left-hand corner was occupied. A thin gray curtain separated the bed from the rest of the room. The lights were off, and the blinds over the windows were open. Sunlight poured through the large windows. Steve tip-toed his way towards the occupied bed. When Steve peeked around the curtain, he had to press his hand against his mouth to stifle his gasp of shock.
Bucky was asleep, and the bed was inclined so that he was sitting somewhat upright. His brown hair was knotted and tangled around his face. A line of stitches swooped from the end of his left eyebrow to the top of the curve of his cheek. His other cheek was shadowed with bruises, and his lip was split. IVs ran in his right arm. Steve's eyes zeroed in on Bucky's left arm—or rather, what was left of his left arm.
A bloodied bandage wrapped around what would have been his bicep. Steve could see bits of scarring skin peeking out from above the bandage. The blond nearly fell over but caught himself on the frame of the bed before he lost his balance.
"Steve bit his lip to keep him from crying out. Quietly, he slipped over to the left side of the bed and knelt down. He reached for Bucky's hand and held it lightly while leaning his head in his other hand. Silent tears streamed down his face. It took all his might not to scream.
He felt the nurse's eyes watch him from the doorway. A moment later, her footsteps faded down the hall. Steve grasped Bucky's hand tighter and looked up at his face.
"I'm sorry," Steve said, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
