Steve XI: Civil War II

"I can't believe this is my last time planning homecoming," Steve sighed. He and the rest of SGA had been working long hours over the past few weeks to prepare everything.

"Yeah, it's crazy," Bucky sighed. The two of them were hunkered down in Steve's room, supposedly doing homework, but really just finding any excuse not to. Steve brought up homecoming to fill the silence that had descended a minute ago. Anything to avoid returning to his English essay.

"Hopefully all goes well on the big night. Are you excited?"

"I don't think I'm going to go to homecoming this year." Bucky said it with such nonchalance, but Steve's brow immediately furrowed in disapproval. After losing most of his freshman year to cancer, he should have ravenously jumped on every opportunity to do normal high school things, especially since this year was their last.

"It's senior year and you're not gonna go?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I just don't want to. Are you gonna go?" he asked in return.

"No. But I have a reason." Steve knew that any sort of respiratory infection could easily kick his life expectancy down to even more despairingly short than it already was. Any unnecessary risks, such as attending a crowded, indoor event on the cusp of flu season, weren't worth it. Bucky, on the other hand, didn't have to worry about things like that.

He looked Steve pointedly in the eye and said, "So do I."

"Bucky, this has got to stop," Steve growled. They'd had this same sort of conversation countless time over the past year, and it drove him crazy with guilt.

"What has to stop? I don't see how I'm doing anything wrong here."

"You're holding yourself back. And I know it's because of me."

"Because of you? I think maybe you're exaggerating your influence over my decision-making just a little bit."

"Then why do you repeatedly refuse invitations to go out with your friends?"

"Have you ever considered that maybe I just don't want to go sometimes?"

"It's not just sometimes. When was the last time you went to a soccer party?"

"What does it matter?"

"You haven't gone since the beginning of junior year!"

"Why are you keeping track of my social life?"

"There's not much to keep track of nowadays, is there?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You used to go out and have fun on the weekends."

"Yeah, and then I got cancer. That tends to throw a wrench in your plans."

"You've been in remission for two years. You're as healthy as you've ever been, yet you're not taking advantage of it."

"Maybe by your definition. But you don't get to decide how I spend my time."

"No, I don't! Yet you insist that I do!"

"I never said that!"

"You don't have to. You've made it very clear without saying a word about it."

"I don't understand why you're angry. My social life is none of your business."

"It is when you've decided to make your entire social life me."

"I have not decided that."

"Yes you have!"

"So what? I don't understand why this is such a big deal. Do you not want to spend time with me? Is that what this is about?"

"No. I just—" Steve broke off, his lungs beyond unhappy with the strain he was putting on them by shouting. The cough wracked his entire body. The tension in the room didn't diffuse even as the fit entered its second full minute. When Steve finally stopped, he paused for a breath before picking up right where he left off. "I don't want—" He lost it again, his lungs once again protesting. As often as this happened, Steve was used to it, though he still hated being interrupted by his own stupid lungs. At last, he managed to get a full sentence out. "I don't want you to spend the rest of my life waiting up for me."

"Maybe I want to."

"Why would you want that?"

"I dunno, maybe because you're my best friend?"

Bucky was right, but the veracity of that statement in itself contained the problem. Steve refused to be the reason Bucky spent the rest of his life mourning his best friend. He'd seen what happened to Clint after Scott, Natasha after Clint, and his own reaction after Carol. The idea of Bucky suffering similarly made him sick to his stomach, especially now as that eventuality loomed so close upon them. If Bucky didn't learn to live without Steve now, he'd be scrambling to figure it out after the fact. And Steve couldn't let that happen. Though it pained him like nothing else ever had, he knew what he had to do. He needed to give Bucky a reason to step back so he wasn't blasted to shreds when the grenade of Steve's demise inevitably went off.

"You're gonna need a new one someday soon, so you might as well start now."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You heard me."

"Yes I did, but I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Well believe it. It's true."

"Steve, where is all this coming from? We've always known our friendship wouldn't last forever, but that never stopped us before."

"Maybe it should have."

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but sealed it once again. Steve lapsed into coughing again, and Bucky watched silently for a few moments before he turned and left, offering Steve a parting glance, his expression unreadable. When Steve finally stopped coughing, he sighed and gazed at the spot Bucky had vacated. Despite the ache in his chest—not a physical one this time—he knew he'd done the right thing. Bucky needed to embrace a life outside of Steve before he found himself living one without him in it at all.

~0~

He told no one of their argument, but their friends at school quickly figured it out. Unless one of them was at Gravesen for one reason or another, they always walked into school together. That morning after the argument, Steve walked in alone. "I didn't know Bucky had scans this morning," Jim remarked when he saw Steve without his one-armed companion.

"He doesn't," Steve said curtly.

"Is he sick?"

"No."

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know."

"That's concerning. He would have told you if he wasn't coming to school. Do you think he's okay?"

"I'm sure he's fine."

Just as Steve said this, they saw Bucky and Gabe walk by with a few other guys from the soccer team. Steve could tell Bucky was actively trying not to look at him. Jim, at that point still unaware of the tension between the two friends, called, "Hey Bucky. We were just wondering where you were. I was starting to get worried."

"I'm fine," Bucky said. Steve refused to engage him, knowing that if he opened his mouth he would quickly lose control of the words that came out of it. The urge to apologize was overwhelming, but Steve knew he couldn't just take back everything he said. He'd made sure of that yesterday, going far enough that a simple apology couldn't make up for it. The group of them walked away before Jim could get another word in, leaving him thoroughly confused. He whipped around to face Steve.

"What the hell happened? He wouldn't even look at you."

"We had an argument," Steve explained.

"About?"

"It's not important."

"It's clearly pretty important if you two aren't even speaking to each other anymore."

"It's none of your business," Steve tried instead.

"If it's going to divide our friend group like this, then it's certainly my business."

"There's no divide. You're more than welcome to hang out with Bucky if you want to. I'm not asking any of you guys to take sides on this. It's between me and Bucky."

"Okay," Jim relented. "But whatever this is, you'd better figure it out soon. I don't like seeing you two at odds with each other."

"We're not at odds. We're just…taking a break."

"You're not dating. Wait—are you?"

Steve snorted. "No. It was a poor choice of words. We've just decided not to spend so much time together."

"Okay." The look on Jim's face clearly displayed his confusion, but he dropped the subject. Well, actually he was forced to by the ringing of the bell signaling the beginning of first period. Steve had the exact same conversation with Timmy during third period, him having heard Jim's recount earlier. Lunch proved to be one of the most awkward experiences of Steve's life. He got there last, as usual, because he'd detoured to take his enzymes first, and found all five of them sitting at their usual table. Trying not to let any of them notice, he slipped away to an unoccupied corner of another table and started to eat alone. He should have predicted his presence at any other table would be noticed; Steve wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

A figure slid into the seat across from him. "Did you get banished?" she asked.

Steve looked up at the vaguely familiar face gazing back at him shyly. "No," he answered. "It's…complicated."

"Gotcha." She picked up a baby carrot and crunched it loudly without taking her eyes off Steve.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"We've gone to school together since elementary school. Remember, we sat at the same table in Mr. Chapman's class in third grade?"

Steve did recall that year. That's when he met Jim and Timmy and the three of them became friends. Now that he thought about it, there was a fourth member of their table. A girl who spent all her free time reading a book instead of talking to them. "Jennifer?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. That was so long ago."

"It was."

An awkward pause. "Is there…is there a reason you sat down here?"

"You sitting here by yourself was rather suspicious. I'm used to seeing you with Bucky."

Why did this girl pay such close attention to him? Steve barely even realized they still attended the same school—as far as he could remember they hadn't had any classes together in years. He tried not to let on how unsettled he was to learn she'd observed him like that. "You know Bucky?" he asked.

"Everyone knows Bucky."

Steve never paused to consider how the rest of the school perceived him and his friends. Bucky had been the star of the soccer team as the goalie freshman year, and his fame had only increased now that he was back on the field as a defender. He supposed it made sense for everyone to know the all-star athlete who missed a year for cancer treatment and returned short an arm.

"Everyone knows you too," she added.

"I'm guessing that's not just because I'm class president?" he said somewhat scathingly. He'd known since he started using oxygen that he attracted a lot of attention. But he wasn't used to that attention being as direct as Jennifer's.

"That's part of it. But you probably don't need me to tell you the other part."

"No." Right on cue, he started coughing. He caught the look of pure sympathy in Jennifer's eyes and wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. When it became clear he wouldn't be reciprocating conversation anytime soon, she pulled a book out of her backpack. She got through three pages before Steve finally stopped.

They lapsed into awkward silence again, Steve trying to will his ears not to turn red as Jennifer continued to stare at him. No one, especially not a girl, had ever looked at him like that, and he didn't know what to do. For a brief moment, he wished Bucky were here to back him up, then instantly shoved the thought away. Subconsciously, he looked back to his usual table to find Bucky sitting with his back to Steve. Brock, however, could see him perfectly from where he sat and was currently staring at Steve as if he was seated across from a grizzly bear. Then he winked and offered Steve a thumbs-up.

Oh dear. He probably thought Steve sat separately from them on purpose to try and pick up this girl or something. Did he even know about Steve and Bucky? Unless one of the guys at the table told him, he probably didn't know. Well this would be super awkward to explain. Steve was quickly learning that life without Bucky was nothing if not awkward. He wondered if this was the same sort of off-kilter-ness that Bucky experienced when he first lost his arm. That comparison only reinforced Steve's decision. Spending one day without talking to someone should not feel comparable to losing a limb; they were too dependent on each other. Steve was just relieved that he, in all likelihood, wouldn't be the one to eventually have to stumble around without the other.