freewilling: (10)
Sgt Bucky Barnes ([personal profile] freewilling) wrote2018-10-17 09:58 am

OPEN RP



 ✓ anything you can make make sense ✓ strangers welcome!
1943: (→ then let it go)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-01-31 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ It was the thought of Bucky sleeping out in the cold, as stubborn as Steve’s ever been, that had him relent in the first place. But now it has Steve wondering if maybe he should've come up with something else, held himself together long enough to throw Bucky off the scent. The only problem would've been how, because Bucky knows him inside, out.

At Bucky’s offer, though, Steve stiffens. ]


I won’t accept your money, Buck.

[ And even through the exhaustion and the pain in his skull, there's a flash of lucidity in Steve’s eyes for the first time the whole night. It’s gone in the next moment, however; he sees Bucky frown hard and notice where he’s been glancing, and a protest is on the tip of his tongue when Bucky gets up to go check. No. The sick feeling returns, settling in the pit of his stomach when Bucky opens the door, and Steve’s on his feet in the next instant, blanket falling back to the cushions as he does so, eyes wide.

He lets out a shaky breath when Bucky returns, visibly confused, but the relief of having his friend back by his side overpowers the creeping idea that Bucky might ... think Steve’s losing his marbles. He tries to school his face into something resembling normal, tries to keep eye contact — both to convince, and also because there's something steadying in Bucky's familiar blue gaze. It's clear that Bucky can't hear them, and Steve needs him back asleep. Safe. ]


Thought I ... heard a voice. Or, I don’t know. Must’a been my ears ringin’ or something. [ It might even have been convincing, if Steve’s grip on the glass wasn’t white-knuckled. If he wasn’t tense all over as his ears strained to catch that sound — fuck. Again. A series of watery hisses, this time coming from the direction of the kitchen, and Steve flinches hard. ]

Sorry. Bucky, I’m sorry, can — can we just. Forget it. [ The back of his head throbs sharply, and his injured hand jumps there, involuntary. ]
1943: (→ give up)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-02-11 10:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ If Steve weren’t in the shape he's currently in, perhaps he’d try and explain what he means — how deep it runs. But there’s no way for him to fully put to words the simple, stark inadequacy he feels every waking day, least of all to Bucky. The constant awareness of his place in the world, and how Bucky’s hard-earned money is fundamentally different from his own, and what taking it would mean for Steve. God, if it was just pride. If it wasn’t Steve’s sense of self-worth as a man, altogether.

As it is, Bucky’s words register as a lash across his already flayed nerves and he’s unable to mask the pain in his voice as he repeats, lower still: ]


I won’t.

[ He doesn’t push further; he doesn’t have the strength, and anyway, there’s a more pressing worry when Bucky gets back, very clearly not interested in forgetting about it. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

At that, he freezes, a trickle of ice sliding down his spine. Lets Bucky gently maneuver him to sit on the bed, one hand still covering the back of his head where it hurts worst, the other setting the glass of water on his tiny, rickety nightstand. Part of him wants, so badly, to talk to Bucky about this. The other part of him insists as fiercely that it isn’t right. Bucky won’t get it, he can’t hear or see them, he'll think Steve’s finally lost it. But — ]


Bucky. Turn off the light? [ Softly, with a hint of pleading to it that normally never makes its way into Steve’s voice, and he’s not looking at Bucky anymore, head bowed and hair falling across his brow. ] And then, don’t — don’t stick around there. Come back.

[ Steve’s free hand blindly pats Bucky’s arm and then pats the space next to him on the mattress. ]
1943: (→ forever)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-02-13 10:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ He can tell that Bucky’s looking at him — feels the concerned weight of that gaze as if it were a touch — but Steve doesn’t look up until Bucky relents and gets up. The moment he does so, Steve’s head jerks up as well, keeping him in his line of sight as he crosses the floorboards, right up until the room plunges back into darkness. He stares into it, hard, hoping to spot Bucky's silhouette on the way back.

A grey mass slithers down the edge of his vision instead, just as a hand brushes against his face, and Steve rears back slightly, an anxious noise bubbling out of his throat before he can hold it back. ]


Buck—?

[ Of course. Who else would it be? He feels silly for it a moment later as Bucky’s weight dips the mattress by his side, followed by a protective arm around his shoulders. The affectionate touch is as reassuring as his friend's words, and the tension slowly drains out of Steve until he’s slumping into Bucky's side, turning his head to press his face against the soft, plain cotton of Bucky’s shirt.

He doesn’t mean to hide. But it makes it easier, just as the darkness does, and Steve takes one last, shaky breath. ]


It’s been happening for a few days, now. [ Quietly, haltingly. ] At first I thought I was just — imagining it. Ringin' in my ears. But I’m not. There’s ... I see ‘em, just outta the corner of my eye. You know? Just outta reach. And I can ... hear them.

[ Something murmurs nearby and Steve shuts his eyes, a tremor running down his back. He wishes he could tell Bucky he isn’t crazy, but by now the words are coming out on their own, like someone's pulling them out on a string. ] Whispers — in the dark. And I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept since, since — [ Funeral. It sticks in his throat like a needle. ] 'Cause it ain’t safe. Nowhere’s safe, and —

[ His breath hitches, voice dropping to a whisper, and in the dark his hand finds Bucky’s knee, gripping it urgently. ] Bucky, there's something in the house.
1943: (→ hearing you'd gone away)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-02-14 08:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ In the silence that follows, Steve can almost hear his own heart thudding as he waits for Bucky to tell him he’s wrong — that he’s just imagining things, or worse yet, that he’s losing it. But no censure comes; Bucky just holds him a bit tighter, and for a moment Steve finds himself almost dozing off, lulled by the comfort and warmth of his friend’s presence.

Then Bucky speaks, and Steve jolts back to lucidity. ]


No. [ He blurts out, without thinking, spurred on by the stern tone Bucky’s got, by the implication of him going to the Barnes’s with this thing hanging over him. Like hell; he already feels bad enough having Bucky in a tainted place. ]

Bucky, it followed me home. From — [ A frustrated shake of his head, once again tripping over a word his tongue refuses to say. ] If I go to your place, it’ll … no. I ain’t leading ‘em to your folks.
1943: (→ everything goes away)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-02-23 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not goin' there.

[ Steve tries to sound as firm as he can, but there's a shake in his voice, cold fingers tightening reflexively on Bucky's knee as if to steady himself. It's no use, either of it; he can hear the selfsame resolve in his friend's words, in the way he said family, knows that it's his back against the wall while Bucky's got the —

His mind, straining for any sort of compromise, sluggishly grabs onto that. Down on the floor, Bucky'd be left open to the darkness under the bed and on the other side of the room, and Steve wouldn't let himself sleep a wink. But the bed itself was against — ]


The wall. [ It comes out a croak, Steve lifting his head up to look blindly behind him and then back to where he senses Bucky is, struggling to explain himself. ] Bucky, if I said I'd try an' sleep, would — I mean, if you had your back to the wall, you'd ... it'd be safer.
1943: (→ but bones in the ground)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-02-23 07:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ Bucky’s acquiescence brings no small measure of relief, and for a moment Steve just leans into him, his heartbeat slowly easing as his shoulders sag. ]

I meant … [ The mumble dies off as he wracks his bewildered, exhausted brain on how to word himself. Christ, it’s a good thing Steve’s like this. In his right mind he’d be mortified to be asking this, like some dumb kid wanting to clamber into his big brother’s bed after a nightmare, afraid to be alone. After a moment he stirs, nudging Bucky to lay lengthwise and wordlessly adjusting himself along with him until they’re face to face — or more accurately, Steve’s face to Bucky’s sternum.

There. This way, Bucky’s no longer vulnerable, and Steve’s between him and the rest of the yawning dark. ]


Didn’t wanna rope you into this. [ Hushed, the words a jumble in his head and worse out loud. ] It just ... emptiness, Bucky, even in daylight. You know? And that’s where it — eats. [ A nameless, aching despair creeps into Steve’s voice, and he cuts himself short, knowing he isn't just talking about the voices anymore. ]
1943: (→ but all this time)

[personal profile] 1943 2019-02-24 07:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ It’s gonna eat at him until the rest of him goes where part of him already is, six feet under — but that thought ain’t one that Steve’s going to follow to its conclusion, and certainly not out loud in front of Bucky. Bucky, pitting himself like a bulwark between Steve and his demons, though they’re under his skin. This isn't a bully so much as it is another illness, but whatever the hell this grief is ...

It’s not Bucky’s burden — no matter how hard he tries to help bear it — and Steve’ll let it devour him whole before he makes it so. ]


Yeah, Bucky.

[ A liquid whisper trickles into his good ear, but Steve wills himself to ignore it, shutting his eyes. Here, with his friend's arms around him, his voice strong and steady and alive, the dark seems diminished somehow. No flickering lights in his vision, no grey shadows darting just out of reach. Even the pounding of his head’s lessened like this, and Steve finds himself yawning hard, covering it with the back of his bandaged hand. ]

You don’t gotta keep an eye out. [ Quietly, inching a little closer to Bucky’s warmth as a shiver hits him, his body suddenly aware of the night chill now that the adrenalin’s wearing off. ] If you can’t hear the … you probably can’t see ‘em, either.

[ And Bucky needs sleep, too — must be drained from all this. ]