Steve XII: Black Lie

Bucky would be fine without him. Steve told himself this several times a day, whenever a hint of doubt about his decision crept into the back of his mind. He knew Bucky had gone to a soccer party the weekend after their argument, which was exactly what Steve had wanted to come out of this. He had plenty of other friends to love and support him. Steve, on the other hand, spent that weekend buried in SGA work which he couldn't even bring himself to focus on. Usually, he had Bucky over to do homework as well and they kept each other on task. Well, they actually distracted each other quite a lot, but in between tangents they got a lot done. Alone in his room with nothing but the rhythmic puffing of his oxygen concentrator, he lost all sense of productivity.

Steve thought Bucky must be doing better than he was, but then the texts started. First one, then another the same day, all requesting a conversation to make amends from last time. A part of Steve wanted to—really, really wanted to—but the other part knew that he'd be right back at square one if he did so. Right back to the nightmare-inducing fear for Bucky's future. Steve hadn't told anybody about the dreams, but they'd been happening on and off (mostly on in recent weeks) ever since that fateful clinic visit.

Most nights, he watched the broken sequences, awakening only when the anguish reached its apex and he snapped upright to cough, any mucus he brought up occasionally mixing with tears. The same events never played themselves in the same order, but several of the scenes repeated from night to night. A haunting scream echoing as Bucky plummeted into a snowy ravine, reaching desperately for a hand that wasn't there to catch him. Bucky dragging what looked like Steve's lifeless corpse from a river. His confused cry of, "Steve?" as he wandered dazedly through a jungle and dissolved into dust. A hushed, tense conversation between Bucky and Alex Pierce of all people, who hadn't appeared in Steve's thoughts or dreams since he switched schools. "You two were never friends," Alex said. "So why exactly are you upset about Steve Rogers?"

"I knew him," Bucky whispered, voice crippled with doubt and grief.

"No you didn't," Alex insisted. "As far as I remember, you never so much as sat next to him in class."

Bucky's response: "But I knew him."

And worst of all, Bucky standing alone on a bridge, eyes wild and furious and exhausted, croaking, "Who the hell is Bucky?" before raising a gun.

Those images pushed Steve closer and close to starting that argument, and Bucky saying he wasn't going to senior year homecoming just pushed him over the edge. The knowledge that he was preventing Bucky from completely losing himself fueled Steve's continued ignorance of him. Steve thought he'd succeeded when the texts dropped in frequency, but then he remembered Bucky had scans today and was probably away from his phone. This marked twenty seven months since he was first declared cancer free. Steve remembered how nervous Bucky always got around this time and hoped he was doing okay. He hadn't wished Bucky good luck like he had for every scan for the past two years.

His phone buzzed again with a text from Bucky. Steve sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist reading it while also having to resist strongly the urge to respond. He expected it to be just another request for reparations. It wasn't. It was the very thing Bucky feared every time scans came around.

"My cancer's back."

The floor tumbled out from under Steve's feet just like it had the first time he heard his best friend say "It's cancer." Without his conscious effort, his finger slammed on the call button. Steve brought the phone to his ear and tried desperately to keep himself from crying. It rang three times before Bucky picked up.

"Steve?" his voice was surprisingly calm considering what he'd sounded like the first time he called Steve to deliver this sort of news nearly three years ago.

"Bucky." It was more of an exhale than an actual attempt at speech. Steve's free hand trembled with the effort of holding himself together in the face of such devastation.

"I'm glad you called."

"Of course I called. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky sounded calm, which Steve supposed was a good thing. Maybe it wasn't as horrible a situation as he'd imagined. If he wasn't freaking out, then Steve shouldn't either.

"Is…is there a game plan?" Steve wondered just what the next months would hold for his friend. He knew relapsed Ewing's was difficult to handle.

"Yeah," Bucky said. "This is it."

Steve stifled a sob. This was it? That meant there was nothing they could do, and Bucky was going to die from this. No, no, no, nonono. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Everything Steve had done over the past weeks had been to protect Bucky from his own eventual death. He was woefully unprepared to protect himself from Bucky's. "How long?" he asked in a choked whisper.

"As long as it takes," Bucky replied. That certainly didn't sound reassuring. But then he continued, "Steve, I will not let you shut me out like this. You don't get to decide for the both of us whether or not we're friends."

"What?"

"You heard me. You don't just get to abandon me because you feel like it."

"Bucky, that's not what it was about."

"Then please explain to me what it was about."

"I just…I couldn't live with myself knowing we were so attached. I can't…I can't be responsible for a lifetime of grief for you."

"So you left and let me start grieving early?"

"No! I just needed you to have a chance to find your footing without me before I started an avalanche." Steve didn't understand why they were rehashing this when there was a far more pressing matter at hand, in that Bucky was going to die. They shouldn't be wasting time on this stupid fight. "Bucky, look, I'm sorry. If you want me to be there, especially…especially now, I will be. You're not alone." God, he couldn't imagine what it would be like for Bucky to spend the end of his life without his friend by his side. The thought was too horrible to contemplate.

Steve swore he heard Bucky huff victoriously. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious that there was something more at play. Bucky exclaimed, "Now you know how I feel!"

"What the fuck is going on here?" Steve growled.

"Now you understand what it's like to know your best friend is going to die. It sucks, doesn't it?"

The grief and terror boiling within Steve evaporated instantly, replaced by potent rage. "You lied to me?!" he shouted. "What the fuck, Bucky? That is not okay!"

"Neither is you ignoring me! I had to text you something that I knew would get your attention."

"So you lied about having terminal cancer? Do you have any idea how messed up that is?"

"I never said I was terminal, but you interpreted it that way and I just went with it."

"You still lied about relapsing."

"Yeah, I did. Because you left me no choice."

"Lying about that should never have been a choice in the first place. It's disgusting."

"It worked, didn't it? I got you to talk to me and to see my perspective of this situation."

"No. All you accomplished is giving me a whole other reason to wish we were never friends." Steve seethed, hanging up before Bucky had a chance to respond and coughing until his head spun. The friend he knew would never stoop so low as to fake something like that. He should have known better, having actually fought cancer, than to ever use it for manipulative purposes. It was blatantly disrespectful of everyone who had ever fought and lost. Steve felt physically sick to his stomach knowing that someone he trusted so completely would con him into a conversation using something so real and so devastating. At least he no longer had to exert willpower to ignore Bucky; now he didn't want to speak to him at all.

~0~

At lunch, he sat once again at a table by himself. He glanced over at his usual table only once, and the mere sight of Bucky filled his chest with angry fire. So he kept his gaze firmly focused in front of him. And once again, Jennifer joined him. "Hey," she said as she took the seat across from him.

"Hi," he mumbled back, still unsure how to react to this girl's sudden interest in him.

"Are you okay?" she asked sincerely.

"Yeah."

"You don't look okay."

"Well, CF can really wreck a guy's looks." That joke would have killed among his friends, who were used to that kind of humor from him. Jennifer just stared at him, mortified. "Sorry," he continued.

"It's okay. But I just meant, you look…sad."

"I'm fine," he said, more venomously than he meant.

"Okay, okay. Sorry I brought it up. Changing the subject, how's homecoming planning going?"

The dance that had prompted the whole argument with Bucky loomed just over a week away. Everything was mostly ready. Steve just had to double check with everyone who'd signed up to help decorate and finalize the assignments. As much as he'd enjoyed this job over the years, he was glad this was the last year. Being class president during homecoming prep was exhausting. "Pretty good," he said.

"Are you going?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Probably not." He'd gone last year, pressured into doing so by Jasper, and had brought home a rhinovirus that hospitalized him for three weeks.

"That's a shame."

"Are you?" he asked in return.

Jennifer shrugged. "Most of my friends are going with their significant others, and I don't want to be an odd wheel."

"Ah." Steve knew he was generally clueless when it came to these matters—his friends made fun of him for it endlessly—but even he could tell what she was suggesting. He fell silent, thinking on this for a moment. His days were numbered, God only knew how few, and while he didn't have an official bucket list, there were certainly things he didn't want to die never having done. Not sex, of course, his mother would murder him before CF even got a chance if that happened, but he'd never even been on a date, and this girl clearly wanted one. So, Steve cleared his throat and attempted to gracefully work his way through asking. "Well, I'm afraid I can't take you to homecoming. Crowded indoor spaces are kinda dangerous for me." He gestured vaguely to his chest and oxygen tank. "But I could take you somewhere else, if you haven't already bought a ticket to the dance?"

"Where do you have in mind?" she asked with half a smile.

"Do you have any requests?"

"How about I text you an address?"

"I…I don't have your number," Steve stammered.

"Let's fix that."

They exchanged numbers, just in time for the bell to ring signaling the end of lunch. "This is the night of homecoming, right?" he clarified.

"Yep."

"What time should I pick you up?"

"I'll meet you there at seven thirty. Sound good?"

"Sure."

She stood up and left, leaving Steve to gather his things and wander off to his next class completely stupefied. What the hell had he just done? He hadn't talked to this girl since the third grade, and now he was going on a date with her? His life really made no sense without Bucky in it. Steve shook his head to clear it of his friend's name. He barely knew Jennifer, but Steve could tell she would never stoop so low as to lie about having cancer. Maybe this was exactly what he needed.

~0~

By the time the night of homecoming rolled around, Steve still hadn't spoken to Bucky. He spent every lunch period either alone or with Jennifer when she decided to join him. Apparently, she alternated eating in the cafeteria and in the office of the history teacher that she assisted second period. Steve still texted his other friends occasionally, but for the same reason he'd initially distanced himself from Bucky he tried not to interact with them too much. The loneliness only ever bothered him when they talked in their friend group chat. He read every single message without replying to any.

For that reason, nobody knew about his date except for Jennifer herself and his parents. Mom lint rolled all his clothes and rambled about how 'grown-up her boy was' until Steve wanted to tear his hair out. When he finally left, he was more excited to be rid of her than he was to meet Jennifer. Maybe that was the first sign this wasn't what he wanted.

The second sign was the tangible awkwardness between them. Steve arrived at the address she's sent ten minutes early, a quaint little Italian place that looked like it was probably family-owned. He spent those ten minutes readjusting his cuffs and his oxygen. When she showed up, she snuck up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Steve jumped, but managed to laugh it off.

"Hello," she greeted.

"Hi." He paused. "You look nice."

She smiled. "Thanks. You too. Shall we?"

No more conversation was exchanged until they sat down. Without knowing what else to do, Steve drank a sip of water pretty much ever fifteen seconds on the dot. The only thing to break the silence for the first five or ten minutes was his coughing. Jennifer didn't attempt to strike up a conversation either, just stared at him across the table with stunningly dark eyes. When he couldn't take it anymore, he cited the only memory he had of her. "You know, the only thing I remember about you in Mr. Chapman's class was your huge books and how fast you read them."

"Oh yeah, I was a big reader when I was younger. But to be honest I always had my nose buried in a book because if I looked up at you my cheeks turned red." As she said it, she blushed just as she described.

Steve chuckled dryly. "What did you like to read?"

"It was mostly historical fiction. But now I read a lot of nonfiction, usually about old unsolved crimes and stuff."

"Sounds interesting. I wouldn't consider myself a big reader, but I do enjoy a good World War II novel."

"That's cool." Another awkward silence lasted until their waiter arrived. After he took their orders, Jennifer turned back to Steve and asked, "Where are you applying to college?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question for seniors in high school to ask each other. The only problem with it was Steve's unconventional answer. He, his parents, and his doctors had agreed that leaving home to live on a college campus just wasn't an option for him at this stage in his health. If he wanted to attend school at all, it would have to be online for the foreseeable future. Whenever Steve thought about college applications, it only saddened him because in all likelihood he wouldn't survive to finish a degree. Despite this, he still had an answer to the question, which he promptly gave to Jennifer. "University of Utah, UND, and SNHU are my top three."

"Nice. Looking to go pretty far from home with those first two, huh?"

"Not exactly. I'm, uh…planning to get my degree online. Health reasons," he said sheepishly.

"Oh, okay. That's sounds great."

"Yep. I'm very lucky it's even an option. Where do you want to go?"

"Well, my cousin's at Penn State right now. I want to do pre-law at ideally Harvard or Yale, but more realistically Florida State or UMD."

"I'll bet you could get in."

"I thank you for your confidence in me, but we'll see."

When their food arrived, Steve stealthily took his enzymes. Jennifer didn't notice. They ate in silence for a few moments before Jennifer got that dreamy look in her eyes again and set down her fork. "Listen. I know I've probably already made this pretty clear, but…I can't even express how excited I was to finally get to know you. I've liked you since we first met in third grade."

Steve did not expect such forwardness. Based on the stupid romantic comedies he'd occasionally watched with his friends over the years, girls were usually…shier about their interest in a guy. Clearly Jennifer had no such qualms. Steve was flattered by her interest, but before she could even take her next bite he knew what he had to do.

"That's incredibly nice of you to say, but I'm afraid I can't…I can't let this turn into a regular thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Jennifer, I'm dying. Pretty much have been my whole life, but it's getting close now. It's a double lung transplant or bust for me, and I don't want you to have to deal with that from up close."

"What if I don't mind?"

"I mind," he countered. "I don't want to start anything I can't finish." Before she could argue with him further, he placed a stack of cash on the table to cover dinner and left with a curt parting apology. Jennifer didn't try to chase him out, which was good because she easily could have caught him. Steve didn't walk so fast anymore. On his way home, he mentally kicked himself over and over again for even considering going through with this tonight. After pushing away his friends to protect them, why did he think it was a good idea to then immediately try and get a girlfriend? It made no goddamn sense, just like everything that had gone down in the past weeks. He doubled over to cough, grateful he'd thought to bring a handkerchief because he brought up a decent amount of mucus. It hurt unlike any cough he'd had in a long time. A chill ran down his spine, so he tightened his coat and hurried as best he could the rest of the way home.

"You're home early," Dad remarked when he stepped through the door.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He marched off to his room and collapsed onto his bed, wondering if things would ever get any less complicated or if he'd just have to wait until the end of the line.